Coping with winter cabin fever in Mayo

COUNTRYFILE

WELL here I am, sitting inside and waiting for a break in this abysmal weather, one which might allow me outside, even as far as the beach.

I have fishing in mind, of course.

But this is by far the worst time of year for such endeavours.

It isn’t the shortness of daylight that puts us off – that is by no means a problem, for fish in the sea feed more hard under cover of dark than they do during the day. In that regard, winter is a perfect time.

It is this cold and wet that makes the Great Outdoors just a little less great.

The mere prospect of standing up to ones knees in a surf encrusted with ice is enough to keep most of us confined in expectation of kinder days to come.

But for those who cannot help themselves, those who are compelled to reach for the rod before they do the bottle, those who suffer most from cabin fever or that strange ailment they call Seasonally Adjusted Disorder, we must take the plunge into rain or hail, storm wind and gale, or whatever else might be on the wind.

For the winter angler, encouragement comes mostly in the shape of tasty flatfish.

We have a month before our flounder move offshore in search of the deeper water in which they spawn. And for that month they will be hunting through the shallows close to shore.

Flounder are also called fluke (every fish I catch is something of a fluke). Not too long ago they were hunted with spears – either sharpened sticks or specially made metal tridents.

They were present in such numbers that anybody could wade through the shallows and watch them flee from too-near footsteps.

They wouldn’t go more than a few yards before they’d settle down and very cleverly bury themselves in the sand, leaving only their eyes exposed.

It would take a sharp eye to follow their zigzag course, but if the owner of that sharp eye happens also to be the owner of that sharpened stick, it could be that flounder has reached the end of his days.

We must here confess the humble flounder might not find a place on the finest of menus.

That, however, is to the great loss of those who malign this once ubiquitous fish. The truth is that these flatfish have delicate flesh that must be treated properly.

First they must be skinned – a fiddly job unless you know this simplest of tricks: plunge your fish into near boiling water, just for three or four seconds, drop it into a basin of cold water and then that rubbery skin will lift away.

Try and do the job any other way and you’ll be giving your flounder to the cat, just as your grandparents likely did, and theirs before them.

There are other ways of getting the job done, most of which involve multiple incisions (at least one of which will go into your thumb), a pair of pliers with which to pull away fragments of skin, and that undoubtedly grateful cat.

Supposing you find success in skinning your flattie, now you must grill it. All is suddenly well!

You have before you one of the finest fishes found in our inshore waters – and more, the food before you is a direct product of your own labours. You have earned every last morsel.

Fish are best shared with friends. So if you have been fortunate to catch your flounder, don’t hurry home. Rather, stay an hour and you will catch another!