While I was born a Yankee country girl, somewhere between my barefoot-in-the-mud, bait-my-own-hook days of youth and now, I got soft. I moved to Florida, and now the multi-legged fauna that dwells around my home makes me prone to screaming fits. The last fish I caught – when I was about 8 – was a 5-pound walleye, and I cried when my uncle offered to have it mounted.
Recently, I realized how much better fresh fish tastes. Then I learned how much cheaper it is to go out and catch your own, and how rewarding it is to eat a meal you’ve caught, cleaned and prepared. I was immediately – pardon the pun – hooked.
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