Oh woe, my pan is no more
I wonder who is going to catch the last fish.
Tonight, my television took me down onto (and into) the Red Sea, a marvelous place. Full of eye candy, full of life. Some interesting ideas; the group that are reseeding coral reefs, using a technique that remind me of potato planting. The retraining of fishermen to care for a marine park. The sad tale of the group from Yemen, who make their daily bread by setting nets, in hope of capturing sharks for the finning market of the far East.
Their experience mirrors that of fishing populations around the world. Each season, the catch is less, and the grounds to be covered are further and further from port. In simple terms, there aren’t as many fish as before. The old man told us that the fish were getting smarter, more aware of man. I somehow doubt the scientific foundations of that belief. Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Give that man a boat, and a crew, and gear and a market; someday he’ll have to find a new occupation.
I lost a treasured tool from my kitchen today. When I got in from work, son #3 was preparing to pick up the pieces of my favourite lasagna pan. The dog, again. She had decided to share in our larder, and while opening the bag of bread she pulled a large Corningware baking pan down from the countertop. We missed her private show. All that remained was the field of shards, each one sharper than the next. No cut paws on this one, happily.
I went out to buy another one, but we’re a quarter century too late. I settled, against my wishes, for a pair of smaller Pyrex baking trays. Guess my next superpasta will be downsized.
