My brother and I, circa 1969, at our Dock on the Sacandaga by our boat with a stringer full of walleyes we caught with our dad.
“While many a pickled pepper peck Peter Piper may have indeed picked, I ponder: How many pickled pecks would have Piper picked if perhaps Peter were picking dill pickle pike.”
My first youthful pike encounter was actually with walleyed pike, as opposed to great northerns. I’m not even sure Walleyes are technically really a true “pike”. Pickled or otherwise, I believe they are more a cross between a pickerel and a perch.
My Dad, younger brother and I used to fish the walleye run on the Great Sacandaga. We’d troll up and down, back and forth on the river, near where we kept Dad’s boat tied to our floating dock, out behind our rented grey stucco house, just above the bridge. We trolled with yellow bucktails in Dad’s little Starcraft, at first putt-putting along with my Grandad’s old 5 HP Scott-At-Water. Somewhere along the line, Dad upgraded to a new 20 HP Johnson that started a lot easier and worked a lot better.
For our family, like most firmly rooted within The Blue Line, the equation is simple:
Summer + Camping x Kids = FISHING!
When my son RJ was 4, he was out fishing one morning at Bull Rush Bay with his “Gramps”.
Gramps overheard RJ humming to himself, singing a little tune while they fished. When they returned to camp, Gramps wrote RJ’s lyrics down. They went like this:
A recipe for baking an herbed foccacia bread, an Italian yeast bread backed in a sheet pan and flavored with olive oil and herbs. It is simple, easy, and smells absolutely incredible when it is cooking.
My grandmother loved parsnips, and would use them in her cooking like most people would use carrots. You could find them in her red flannel hash, in soups and stews, and even mashed, in heaping bowls, alongside the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. Although I did not appreciate parsnips when I was a child, I have grown to love them almost as much as my grandmother did. This simple recipe, which beautifully blends the earthy flavor of parsnips with the sweet acidity of tomatoes and the sharp bite of peppercorns, reminds me of her.
This has to be one of my favorite comfort food recipes of all times. When I was growing up, my mom would make apple crisp in a giant pan. As soon as the crisp came out of the oven, my sisters and I would descend on the hot pan like ravenous vultures, happily devouring every last crumb. Although this version won’t make the giant pan-sized apple crisp that my mom made, it will allow you to enjoy the exact same delicious apple crisp that my sisters and I did, and still do to this day. Enjoy!
Dill Pickle Pike: A fast camp favorite
My brother and I, circa 1969, at our Dock on the Sacandaga by our boat with a stringer full of walleyes we caught with our dad.
“While many a pickled pepper peck Peter Piper may have indeed picked, I ponder: How many pickled pecks would have Piper picked if perhaps Peter were picking dill pickle pike.”
My first youthful pike encounter was actually with walleyed pike, as opposed to great northerns. I’m not even sure Walleyes are technically really a true “pike”. Pickled or otherwise, I believe they are more a cross between a pickerel and a perch.
My Dad, younger brother and I used to fish the walleye run on the Great Sacandaga. We’d troll up and down, back and forth on the river, near where we kept Dad’s boat tied to our floating dock, out behind our rented grey stucco house, just above the bridge. We trolled with yellow bucktails in Dad’s little Starcraft, at first putt-putting along with my Grandad’s old 5 HP Scott-At-Water. Somewhere along the line, Dad upgraded to a new 20 HP Johnson that started a lot easier and worked a lot better.
» Continue Reading.