This has the makings of a typical November supper I remember when I was a young boy growing up in the village of Mayport. Mama in the kitchen stirring a pot of grits with the big iron skillet heating its oil waiting to bathe the fresh mullet and roe a golden brown. After supper we would head to the front porch waving at our neighbors as we made ourselves comfortable on the family swing. With bellys full we would watch evening settle into darkness as the mighty river behind us filled with millions of mullet and shrimp on their Fall migration racing in silence towards the fertile sea to replenish their species for generations to come. I cherish these memories of the village and hope my grandchildren and great grandchildren get to enjoy a plate of mullet and grits and get to hear the cherished battle cry of the village with their own ear Mullet On The Beach!
Posted on: Tue, 04 Nov 2014 22:22:14 +0000