Tag Archive | smoked trout croquettes

Dinner with Amy: Smoked Trout Croquettes

“I have trout in the freezer I want to use up,” I told Amy last time. She sent a nice fillet recipe, but that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.

I’ve been so blessed over the past few years to have a friend who brings me fish he caught now and then, trout and kokonee, sometimes whole, sometimes filleted, always frozen when he delivers a catch. I’m grateful that when he can’t release them, he brings some to me, since he doesn’t care to eat them himself. Grateful for collaboration: I give him cookies sometimes, and other occasional treats.

Grateful not only for the fisherman but for the fish itself, its life ended for human sport, but its flesh well spent in support of my sustenance. Not that I contribute much more than a brown trout to the planet’s overall well-being, but I do try to.

Brined for a couple of hours in water with brown sugar and salt, out in the mudroom, almost as cold as the fridge.

So I had this package of fillets in the freezer, and it was time to use them up, refill the space with winter lamb, (or ice cream). Grateful for the rancher who raised the lamb, the lamb who lived well for a short while, Dawn for sharing her freezer til I can make room in mine. I saw this recipe for smoked trout croquettes, and sent it to Amy. This is more what I was thinking…

“Fried mashed potatoes,” Amy said laughing, tonight as we ate them, silly with how delicious they were, and the simple joy of another zoom dinner adventure together, giddy with gratitude that we’d both survived the pandemic so far, that our government survived… or at least those were some reasons I was laughing.

If I bought smoked trout that would have defeated the purpose of freeing freezer space. I let the fish thaw overnight in the sink, then drained and brined it, and figured out how to smoke it on the hand-me-down Weber grill (for which I’m also grateful).

Last spring’s pruned apricot twigs for flavor on top of mixed wood and charcoals
An hour later, after struggling to get the coals hot enough, then casting my trout to the fates so I could keep a zoom appointment, the fish flaked apart, a little dry but done: flaky, sweet, smoky, delicious.
Last night, I weighed out what I needed for croquettes, and mashed the rest with some mayo, sour cream, and cream cheese for a hearty, delectable dinner dip.
Potatoes mashed with butter, garlic chives, horseradish, egg, and cheese, then smoked trout folded in…
… rolled into little balls and deep fried. Grateful I bought that Fry-Baby years ago when David brought alligator: though I rarely use it, sometimes it’s just the right tool for the job!
“Fried mashed potatoes!” Amy cries in glee.

It goes without saying (although it shouldn’t) that my gratitude for any kind of food is broad and deep. I know where my food comes from; and I know that in a moment, access to that food can vanish, whether by ailment, accident, or catastrophe. A young man I know of with Covid can’t eat, it hurts to swallow; my mother, and thousands with her type of disease, lost the ability to swallow altogether. People across the planet, our own neighbors, go to bed and wake up hungry; victims of climate chaos flee war and drought and starvation.

We who have ample food on our tables daily are so fortunate. We who know how to make the most of what there is in our larders, freezers, markets, neighbors’ gardens and fields, are even more fortunate. Those of us who also grow our own food are the most fortunate of all, to eat the fruits of our own labors, wholesome nutritious food grown with devotion. I am grateful for food!