Thursday, February 16, 2012

Fish Fry in Governour's Harbor

We arranged our day around my desire to go to the weekly Governor's Harbor fish fry, which is held on Fridays and features the option of a couple of different dishes (fried whole fish, bbq chicken, pork chop) that are then served with two sides (mac n cheese, cole slaw, I forget what else). It is described as an event that draws year-round residents as well as part-time residents and tourists, and that there is often live music and dancing. We arrived at the right spot entirely by chance and only a little early. The food wasn't yet being served, and we were a little confused about how the whole thing worked. With help from a couple from Pittsburg, we figured out that you first order and the man will write your name and preferences on the bottom of a styrofoam meal container, then one must diligently listen for their name to be called in order to pick up said containers chock full of food. They also had drinks called Rum Bubbas. The husband of the Pittsburgh couple said drinking one was enough because they were "rocket fuel." They were the kind of drink that doesn't completely taste of alcohol, but must be almost 90% just that. I thought the man was being hyperbolic and ended up enjoying three rum bubbas...and no, I do not remember the drive home.
I chose to go with the barbeque chicken, which was succulent and tasty. Not sure if they really made their own sauce, but I'm not worried one way or the other.
What it looked like from a little ways away.
We made friends with middle aged Canadian and German couples.
The place began to clear out.
L. making friends with a particularly enthusiastic/not really trained dog.

1 comment:

nc catherine said...

Oh wow what fun. I wouldda had the whole fried fish just cuz but to each her own! I didn't post on the shells one but I think a conch not totally perfect would love life in Philadelphia since its imperfections would make it so perfect here US but no so perfect there Bahamas that one would keep it. But then, I have a houseful of odd shells and bits of driftwood and the odd Pacific coast rock.

I lied I am not over my envy!