My dad, plastic surgeon Dr. Ralph Blocksma, was an avid fisherman. We used to visit our Uncle Joe and Aunt Maud DeBoer at their Lake Michigan cottage during summer perch runs—we kids got to fish off the dock—but Mom complained that frying perch stunk up the house. Trout smelled—and tasted—sweeter. At first, Dad fly fished, going after browns and rainbows in local rivers and streams. Later he acquired a boat and trolled for the bigger lake trout. (Dad loved that birthday fish tie I gave him.)
After I left home, I forgot about trout. Salmon became the fish of choice, easily available in restaurants and markets, in handy steaks and filets. Even Mom would cook salmon. I liked salmon okay, until, in 1990, I was served a huge lake trout at the only restaurant on Lake Superior’s Isle Royale. I was celebrating the completion of a 3-month trip around the Great Lakes, and that trout was so good, I dreamed about it for years.
It was more than a decade, after I’d moved to Bay City, before I ate trout again—this time at Nino’s, Marty Sielinski’s favorite restaurant. I’d met Marty on Beaver Island in the 1990s, when he came every summer to do art at Central Michigan University’s campus there. When I moved to Bay City, I discovered he lived across the street. Our Nino’s trout dinner was so delicious, I thought I’d try making it at home. Trout turned out to be surprisingly affordable and simple to prepare. Marty and I cooked trout for each other on special occasions for more than twenty years.
There’s more! A Bay City fisherman friend named Bob, on discovering I was a mushroom hunter, suggested we begin trading fish for fungi. Most people were queasy about eating my finds, but not Bob. If I was expected to drop by when he wasn’t home, I’d find a few rainbows in a pail by the door. I’d replace them with a bag of shrooms, often odd-looking species he’d never seen. One time I left him a big batch of honey mushrooms from a part of the Tobico woods I’d hadn’t hunted before and he threw up all night. I knew this not because he called me, but having gotten sick myself, the next day I called him. We both survived and Bob continued our happy bargain as if nothing had happened. (It was the only time I’ve been sickened by wild mushrooms.) One day, a heavy smoker, he returned home from the hospital with an unacceptable diagnosis and shot himself. Bob was not one to wait around. It’s a sad ending, and hard to hear, but I don’t want Bob forgotten.
How I Cook Whole Trout
No longer blessed with fishing family and friends, I now buy rainbow trout fresh and whole (but cleaned) from Cosco four or five to a pack. Compared to other protein options, the price has been pretty reasonable, about $4.00 per fish—more than chicken but cheaper than steak. There are hundreds of fancy ways to cook fish, but I go simple. I just try to not overcook it. I always put out a big plate for the fish skeletons my family carefully removes from these challenging dinners. Leftovers, should I ever have any, are delicious hot or cold.
Prepare the trout: Set the oven to 400 degrees. Rinse, then dry each cleaned trout inside and out with paper towels. (If trout is whole—still has the guts—consult a YouTube video for how to clean it.)
Cook the trout: Set the trout, cut underside up, on a foil-covered sheet or broiler pan. Sprinkle each cavity with salt, pepper, and a favorite herb (I use dill), and, depending on size, top each with 1-3 teaspoons of butter or nondairy substitute and thin lemon slices. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-30 minutes, depending on the size of the fish. The flesh should be white but not dry. Serve with a wedge of fresh lemon, and, my preference, spinach and jasmine rice.
Remove the bones: I like to serve a whole fish to each guest, allowing them to debone it themselves. If any guests find this challenging or are uncomfortable with being eyed by their dinner, you can do this yourself before serving. However, if you find yourself presented with the whole fish, cut through the skin along the backbone and pull off one side of the flesh, exposing the skeleton. Picking up the tail, gently pull up. The bones should come out whole, head and tail attached.
