My Aunt Has Good Knife Skills

Chapters 17-19 of Snowbirds, a novella-in-flash by Margo Rife

You are reading Snowbirds, a serialized novella-in-flash by Margo Rife. Go here to start at the beginning. You’ll find the linked table of contents here.

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My Aunt Doretta lines us up in a row on the cement seawall close to the causeway bridge. She hands my sister the neatly wrapped pearly pink shrimp she bought at her favorite seafood seller in West Palm Beach. “No worms or filthy little sea things for my nieces to touch.”

My aunt focuses on fishing, as it offers an escape from running the front desk at her husband’s shutter company six days a week. She is a beacon to all who enter the shop—dimpled smile and chirpy greetings. Her daily routine is to banish her husband and his crabby customer service to his chem lab where he develops special paint and coatings for the shutters.

“Girls, keep the hooks sharp. Dullness is an enemy. To catch the puffers, set the hook lightly but reel with vigor,” she instructs.

We mimic my aunt’s arcing motion as she casts into the causeway. Plunk! The pink bait sinks into the brackish water. Then we wait and watch as boats cruise by, tanned tourists wave and pelicans eye our shrimp.

Success! I feel a tug, set the hook lightly, and reel in. My catch reveals a medieval looking, spiked, mud-colored fish. It immediately puffs to the size of a party balloon, making a ridiculous croaking sound. My aunt puts on her green-and-coral Lilly Pulitzer gloves to take the puffer off the hook.

A man on the bridge above us yells, “Hey, Senora. Throw that puffer fish back. Don’t clean him right, you poison your familia.” My aunt waves her designer-gloved hand at him. She waits for the puffer to deflate, hides him in a lidded wicker basket with wet towels, and casts to the waterway. When the basket fills, we head home.

In my aunt’s newly renovated kitchen, I sit on a stool as she prepares to clean the puffer fish. She shows me how to sharpen the knife she bought in Japan. The blade makes a deadly reverb sound. Ziiing. I peek through the kitchen door and see my uncle sitting in his leather chair. He hides behind The Palm Beach Post, avoiding the fish blood and flinching at the steely sound.

Working as a chemist daily at Baldwin Shutters, my uncle knows the importance of following instructions with toxins. He lowers his paper as my aunt instructs me in the proper filleting of puffer fish.