Keisha Shakespeare-Blackmore, Staff Reporter
Celia Shakespeare preparing fried fish over a coal stove. - PHOTOS BY NATHANIEL STEWART/FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER
AS A child I could not wait to come home from school to get the sweet and tasty results of grandma Celia Shakespeare's cooking. Whether it was curried goat with roti or corned beef and fried dumplings, it was finger-licking good. Sundays used to be worship day but church seemed like it took forever to end. I just hoped pastor would finish his message early because I could not wait to go home to dinner of of rice and peas, French-fried chicken vegetables and a glass of either carrot or soursop juice. Back then, Sunday dinner was a big thing in my family. Even cousins and other church members stopped by for some.
But, though I loved everything grandma cooked, I loved her fried fish best. In my pre-teen years, my father and other relatives migrated to the United States of America. They also loved her fried fish and often requested some whenever someone was going to the States. Grandma would get coal or wood fire ready and set down to a frying chore. Afterwards, I was warned not to touch any of the fish because it is to send to 'foreign.'
EXPERT TOUCH
Grandma, who has been frying fish since she was 19 years old, has become an expert at it over the years. Her fried fish is so tempting, even the holiest Christian could be tempted to 'borrow' one or two from the pile. I recall that when she told me not to touch her 'foreign fish' the sweet aroma would tempt me even more. The aroma could be inhaled up to chains away from home. I once took a few and hid them in a piece of foil and gobbled them down later but I had to make sure to leave them just as she had so she would not realise that a few had gone missing.
I do not know whether it was the good old coal stove or wood fire that gave the fish such sweet, tantalising flavour. It could also be the magic touch of grandma's hand; all I know is that I cannot resist her fried fish.
