Corinne Trang

“When the fish are in the area you can smell the pungent sweetness of their oil on the water surface.”

Every once in a while I catch myself daydreaming about fishing, and it goes something like this: I’m on a big sports fishing boat, seated in one of those “fighting” chairs that swivel, belt-buckled in tight while reeling in the big tuna. So when the chance to go fishing came up recently, I jumped on the occasion, thinking that some experience would be helpful if Tuna and I were to fight it out someday.

It’s a beautiful clear day, the sky a vibrant afternoon blue. Excited and relaxed, I feel the calm of the water, the Autumn chill, the exhilarating boat ride, and visualize catching my first fish while contemplating the perfect recipe for it the whole time. My senses fully engaged, I am on a boat in Connecticut fishing on the Long Island Sound with my friend Frank, an avid fisherman by hobby, who tells me “when the fish are in the area you can smell the pungent sweetness of their oil on the water surface” as we go from spot to spot casting our lines to catch bass or bluefish.

“There are some fish out there now. Mostly deep and holding near the bottom, in the reefs of mid sound, grouping and preparing for the massive feeding to carry them for their migration south and east,” he continues, explaining that this is something he learned long ago from an old fisherman.

As he speeds through the water, I watch the beautiful, thick white bubbly wake behind the boat. I feel the chill go right through my bones. Medium-built, fit, with salt-and-pepper hair, Frank is dressed in layers for the occasion with turtleneck, flannel shirt, and jacket, jeans loosely tucked into short warm waterproof boots. My cheeks and nose are red as he hands me his coat. “I warned you it was going to be cold out here,” he reminds me while giving me a tour of the Norwalk Islands where we’ll be spending the next few hours. This is my first trip here and I’ve much to learn including how to dress, apparently.

I want to do it all, hook the bait, cast the line, and reel them in.

The lesson begins with a conversation so engaging I’m ready to turn words into practice. I want to do it all, hook the bait, cast the line, and reel them in. I can cook anything put in front of me with ease, but the idea of catching my own meal has me paying attention to every tip Frank shares with me.

Born and raised in Norwalk, CT, he knows the area well and tells me where the fish are abundant. Coming to a familiar spot, he stops the boat. We talk about bait. He has pork rind, eel, and baitfish, though often uses lures of which he has many in a box along with extra spools of wire and hooks. For me, he chooses a lure that is white and frilly explaining, “it mimics a squid and fish love squid.” He hooks it on a fishing rod, the shortest of the eight he has on the boat. Holding on to the wire with my forefinger and releasing the spool, I cast my line and slowly start to reel it back in hoping a fish, any size, will catch on. While casting and reeling, again and again, I imagine that perfect recipe. The fish cooked en papillotte with fresh sage, parsley, thyme, and lemon, a dusting of sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper, served with steamed red bliss potatoes and a side of sautéed spinach with pine nuts—divine! Coming back to reality and not having caught anything yet, Frank explains that the water is too hot. I look at the temperature on the boat’s electronic device, which reads 65°F. Too cold for me to swim in, but not cold enough for the fish as they swim into the deep. Continuing our boat ride Frank instructs, “look for birds swarming directly over the water,” another way to tell if fish are near the surface.

There’s very little action this time, which may be due to over fishing. I’ve used guides to help me make decisions about which fish are fine to eat versus those best avoided. Still, I’m glad to see that bluefish and bass are listed under “better choices,” because that’s what we’re fishing for today and I love the taste of both. “Clams are also fine to eat,” mentions Frank, “and these waters are abundant with them as well.”  Upon hearing that I start imagining getting together with friends for a lemongrass-infused clambake spiced with Thai curry paste.

It’s getting dark and Frank and I have not caught anything today, but I’ve walked away with a most valuable lesson in casting. I’m patient and confident that one lesson at a time, I will catch something soon. For now, I’ll close my eyes and replay this wonderful moment over again.