The Joys of Cleaning Fish

My boyfriend showed up with a packet of barracuda this morning and left me with the bloody task of gutting them. I think he had heard that Seychellois men bring fish to their womenfolk and, ever keen to impress, took note of my last night's waxing lyrical about the tastiness of bekin. Very sweet of him. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to know of the time-honoured Seychellois tradition that it's guys who clean fish here.

There is a reason for this. Gutting fish is a blood and gore thing. Slicing open a fish belly with a sharp knife and pulling out the bloody blackened guts with your bare hands is best left to the hunters, not the gatherers. Whilst I am a liberated and free woman who can do anything I set my mind to, I don't really want to clean fish. Let the men indulge in their atavistic urges to wallow in the bloody insides of fresh kill. I am perfectly willing to look on in admiration and make the appropriate murmurs of appreciation.

No chance of that today. I'm off to fill my sink with guts and scales ...


  1. lol that is quite funny. so how did u go with the cleaning of the fish????

  2. I made one big mess in the kitchen. AND I also forgot to tie my long hair back, so I ended up with fish scales stuck in my hair even after washing it. I tried pretending I was a charming seductive mermaid, but nobody was fooled...



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