The Post about Lent and Fish Fry's March 4th

Today, shortly after midnight, a co-worker offered to buy me dinner -albeit from McDonald's. As his offer is as rare as extra cash the day before payday, I was tempted - but declined.

It is Lent, it's Friday, and I'm Catholic.

And no, I don't like Fillet O'Fish.

I'm under no illusions that my afterlife will be determined by what I eat, but to those who snicker and see no point to it all, I respectfully disagree.

It's not about avoiding some dire consequence; it's about committing to something.

The Church asks that I not eat meat on Fridays for a few weeks. Since I'm Catholic, I choose to abide by that rule as a sign of respect. With a few tweaks, it's the same rationale behind turning down a bribe to look the other way at work, because for better or worse I agreed to the job and I'm damn well going to do it.

Likewise, as a married man, it's why I say no to the supermodel's that are always asking me out.

Commitment's important, you know?

And it's not so bad skipping red meat now and again. In fact, it's only gotten easier since I met my wife.

Back in the day I didn't like fish, had no interest in Italian food that didn't come out of a can, and wouldn't touch tuna or egg salad if my life depended on it. I was a bit of a poor man's version of a snooty food critic.

A few years of raging poverty cured me of my tuna-phobia real quick, while my wife's fetish for the Olive Garden introduced me to several vegetarian dishes. Somewhere along the line my tastes changed and I even acquired a liking for seafood.

Which works out great, because Fish Fry's are to Milwaukee what Mardi Gras is to New Orleans.

Forget the stereotypes that say tourists should hit a German restaurant and a custard stand. Bratwursts are about as much German culture as you'll see on a daily basis.

You want to taste what Milwaukee really eats? Visit on a Friday.

There's not a restaurant in town that doesn't feature a Friday fish fry year-round. Family restaurants do it. So do local fast food places, greasy spoons, and four star restaurants.

Boy Scout troops hold fish fry fundraisers, as do churches. Serb Hall crams hundreds of folks into their fish fry at once, and their drive-thru line stretches out to the street.

I've even gone to an authentic Mexican restaurant and been served a fish fry complete with fries, rye bread, and coleslaw.

Ole.

Trust me, Milwaukeean's consume enough mercury in a given year to take their own temperature when they're sick.

I don't mean to pass this off as a religious mandate. While Milwaukee has its share of Catholics, it's morphed into more of a cultural phenomenon than a religious requirement.

After all, it was my wife's family - Lutherans by and large, with the oddball Catholic thrown in (damn Democrats and their quotas) - that introduced me to the gluttony of the all-you-can eat fish fry.

The fact that this feast falls on Friday seems to be just a bit of good luck for me.

Sadly, the best fish fry in Milwaukee, a title held by a small bar here on the south side, is no more. Once I could complement heavenly baked cod with the best shaved onion rings on earth; now I simply mourn the memory. The bar closed its doors for good a few years back.

Which leaves only 10,000 other places to vie for the title.