Steve Moseley

I have been surprised how few people here in eastern Nebraska have a clue what “shore lunch” is, so perhaps that’s best addressed right up front. Shore lunch happens when your fishing guide, or just you and your buddies, pull your boats in and light a campfire on a remote lakeshore along about noon, extract a cast iron skillet fetched along for the purpose, fillet some of your fresh-caught fish (traditionally walleyes on Canadian lakes) and fry them in butter on the spot. Be sure to serve them up with baked beans and biscuits.

Despite shore lunch being on my personal bucket list for 60 of these 74 years as a dedicated if not particularly skilled fisherman, I have never been presented with the opportunity to try it out. Until, that is, this very month of June.

Grandson Dominic, decompressing this summer between his first and second years at the University of Nebraska, was in the boat with me. We were fishing Yankee Hill, a small, no-wake speed limit lake that lies west of Lincoln within sight of the Nebraska state Capitol building.

Yankee Hill is also conveniently located perhaps a mile from Dominic’s house, so it has that going for it, too. The crappie fishing ranges from decent to outstanding depending on the day, plus there are largemouth bass, bluegill, walleye, catfish, white bass and, unfortunately, carp.

But on this morning we were in pursuit of crappies. We started early, the better to be done and gone by noon on what promised to be a 90-plus degree day under blazing sun.

Earlier the same week we had boated nine dandies of 10-12 inches. Perfect eating size. Dominic and I were angling (tee-hee) to duplicate that result by once again trolling small-to-medium crankbaits in search of scattered, suspended fish in open water at precisely 1.3-1.5 miles per hour. For reasons only the fish knew, a single mph faster or slower did not beget a single strike.

Fishing wasn’t as productive as it had been earlier that week. We caught a few small white bass, one walleye an inch short of legal and perhaps five crappies, only three of which were worthy of keeping.

This drew us up short of enough for a family meal. What to do?

Then it occurred to me these three keepers would yield six decent size fillets, easily enough for the two of us. That’s when I conjured my “shore lunch in the wild” idea. Trouble was, as any who have ventured to — or likely scooted right on through — Nebraska probably noticed, our state is short on wild. We don’t have any, or precious little anyway.

I wanted to give this young man a deep-wilderness memory, but how? Remember, we were within sight of the seat of Nebraska government on the fringes of the state’s second largest city.

And then it dawned; sheer inspiration bordering on genius, if I say so myself.

Remember the part of this story in which we learned Dominic’s family home (and that of my daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter Annie) was only a mile or so from the lake? That proved the catalyst for how Shore Lunch Cornhusker Style came to be.

What I did, see, was bleed our trio of crappies in the live well on the short drive to his house (always bleed your catch if you want pristine, pure fillets), took the electric knife to them on the tailgate of my truck in the driveway and immediately cooked them up on his dad’s fancy grill. Heat set to medium. A square of aluminum foil poked with a fork for drainage, a sizeable spritz of lemon juice and finally the master stroke; a semi-liberal sprinkling of Grandpa Lynn’s seasoning on both sides.

You know all about Grandpa Lynn’s, don’t you? If not, you should. It is handmade in only one place on the planet and that place is Powell, Wyoming. I bet you can still find it in the spice section at Blair’s. That’s where we buy a batch on every trip to your wonderful neck of the woods.

Flip once while cooking (gently please) until no translucence remains and the meat easily flakes apart. Do not wander off. This will not take long.

Three crappies would have been a great plenty for Dom and me, but his dad and mom loved it, too. Little sister? Not so much.

Together we all enjoyed a few nibbles of shore lunch as fresh as it gets. Even beat my son-in-law out of a couple beers to wash it down.

Have I blundered into something with my Shore Lunch Cornhusker Style? Sure looks that way, but I better try it a few more times just to be sure.