By Ira van der Merwe
Forget about turkey; here in Poland, one has fish for Christmas. Carp, to be precise. Yes, that fish that your uncle with the moustache, very proud, bare-chested and in his dreaded polly shorts, fishes from the Bronkhorstspruit dam, is the main dish of the twelve-course feast here in Poland.
Unfortunately for your uncle, the carp here mostly come from fish farms where they are bred for the festive season. They slosh about in some supermarkets for a while after the decorations went up. You can choose one there, or you can pick out a nice, fat one at the market – just remember to take your own bucket.
Traditionally, you let the fish swim in your bath for a week until it no longer tastes like mud. Can you imagine that? So, you absent-mindedly visit the bathroom to tinkle, only to realise you’re not alone.
Fortunately, it hasn’t happened to me yet. To tell you the truth, I haven’t seen or experienced any part of the affair yet, because every December, we sit around a braai fire in Stilbaai. Wearing our diving goggles because we always sit in the smoke. (Works like a bomb!) Wow, I can already smell the fire and hear the kids playing cricket …
I would like to experience and taste the whole fish story, but I would trade the grey, wet and nasty cold any day for sunshine, sea and sand between my toes – and a lamb chop on the braai grid. Not that there’s anything wrong with fish for Christmas. You can set a trap for me with snoek and roosterkoek.
Yes, yes, I know; in December one should not hook a snoek for fear of a pap snoek. Don’t worry; my uncle’s fishing genes luckily skipped me. I buy snoek.
I know you’re going to criticise me for eating frozen snoek. I don’t want to upset anyone – heaven knows, I’ve seen how terribly one woman can upset 44 other people. But every frozen snoek I took from the Stellenbosch cooperative’s freezer was perfect. In fact, it was finger-licking good.
And don’t underestimate a fish. I know we South Africans are meat lovers, but a love of fish runs in our blood. Just listen to the Saffas abroad longing for Ocean Basket. Gosh, they get lyrical, post pictures and write poems about it. And don’t forget about the nationwide panic when our beloved fish spread became unavailable. This caused a rush like no other than that for toilet paper during the pandemic, and a flood of recipes for homemade fish spread when the last bottle was empty.
One day, maybe one day, we will get this excited about a piece of Polish fish. But not today. Because it’s time to pack our bags.
Merry Christmas to you all, wherever you are, with or without fish.
ALSO READ: A winter wonderland Christmas in Switzerland
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