We brought the fish in the house and polar parkas, scarfs, hats, mitts and gloves, for at least a few hours, were hung, and not by the chimney with care, we left them all downstairs. Going upstairs the mood changed in a hurry. We dined on fish last evening, simply caressed by nothing more than wood smoke, wood smoke, was all that was required to prepare them for our supper. The fillets were then sable'd with lemon zest, plated warm, and we ate them. Around this sumptuous fish, were wood bowls, each to his or her liking of greens, the freshest fronds we could find, in the more often than not, meat and potatoes time of the year? Cole slaw, cherry tomatoes and a pitcher of lemonade rounded out the table top with a centerpiece of plastic yellow daisies. Libations enjoyed, had to be, and consist of, fruits and fruity names. The table was set, arranged and managed to look and perform as close to a summer evening as possible. We had all the lights on, candles did flicker and summer shirts and shorts were donned for attire, this exposing some of the most anemic looking skin imaginable, but not enough to ruin my appetite. We had strawberries and whipped cream for dessert, no ice cream allowed. Outside it was raw, cold, windy and dark. Much as it should be, its winter after all. Inside my log pile, I call home, the fire burned hot, the food was second to none, and the company at my hearth and home was a level best. It wasn't New Year's Eve, but nobody was allowed to leave or go to bed until midnight. With no concern over a potential sun burn we were as a team going to spend a cold dark night, showing the northern lights, the moon or the stars, we could from one point on the earth, send our light, streaming back. We planned the meal back in July, we didn't want to get cabin fever, and this winter there has been much less cabin fever, well at least the folks I'm hanging around with, and we hoped that the mid-summer nights frigid food bash, was going to be partook of on the coldest night of the year, well we think we got pretty close. The trout whisperer
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