It was once the staple of an Irish Catholic childhood.
Come Friday
lunchtime, the waft of fish throughout the house was a reminder that the
fifth day of the week was one of dietary restraint, when butchers were
shunned and eating meat was taboo.
Back then, when fish was either
incinerated in a frying pan or boiled to oblivion in a pot of milk or
water, there was a good deal of hardship attached to this culinary
ritual.
Even the day itself had a punishing ring to it.
The Irish for Friday, De hAoine, translates as 'the fast.'
But
today the thought of digging into a sizzling slice of lemon sole, or a
fillet of fresh cod, sounds like anything but penance, which is why it
comes as a surprise that the Catholic Church is on a mission to bring
back the practice of 'fish Friday'.
In the autumn, Catholics in Britain will be urged to abstain from eating meat on Fridays and to resume the habit of having fish instead.
The law will come into force on September 16, the first anniversary of the state visit by Pope Benedict XVI to the UK in 2010.
As
well as being a 'weekly spiritual reality check', the decision to
reintroduce this traditional observance in the lives of the faithful is
being seen as a way of giving the growing number of Catholics in Britain
their own clear identity and customs.
Bishops believe the best
religious habits are those carried out as part of a common resolve, but
they also want to make Catholics take pride in their faith and show
their devotion in more practical ways, apart from just Mass.
Eating
fish on Fridays was common practice until the late 1960s, not just
among Catholics, but members of other Christian denominations too.
A
symbol of the early church, fish had a strong religious significance:
some of the disciples were fishermen, and fish featured in miracles.
Friday
was chosen because it was the day of Christ's death, but the rule of
abstinence itself did not refer to fish, and forbade only eating meat.
In
the days before firdges, fish was not always as fresh as it should be
when served, and eating it was regarded by some as a form of penance.
Novelist Maeve Binchy once recalled how it even interfered with her pursuit of a childhood crush.
"Growing up in Dublin in the 1950s, I was in love with Marlon Brando. I sent fan letters. I wanted him to come to Ireland,
to fall in love with our country and with me. We would, of course,
marry and live happily ever after. But I prayed he wouldn't arrive on a
Friday, as that was the day our house smelled of fish.
"You see,
in those days, you couldn't possibly eat meat on a Friday or you would
burn in hell. We crouched in fear of being somewhere away from home and
eating meat on Friday inadvertently.
"And however badly we cooked
meat, I can't tell you what a disaster we made of fish. The fish we ate
at home tasted like a big white hedgehog in a sauce. The fish we ate at
school tasted like cod-liver oil poured over a bed of spikes."
After
the second Vatican Council in the late 1960s, as the rule of abstinence
became harder to apply, Pope Paul VI drew up a document allowing local
bishops to produce other forms of penance such as works of charity which
did not involve fasting.
This week, the Catholic Church in
Ireland confirmed that Friday acts of penance such as eating fish, doing
acts of charity and praying are still very much encouraged.
A
survey last year showed that meatless Fridays had survived these more
secular times, with supermarkets selling most fish on that day.
But some
fishmongers have seen cultural shift in recent years.
"Friday was always traditionally our busiest day, but it's been overtaken by Saturday," says Mark Caviston of Cavistons Food Emporium in Sandycove, Dublin.
"The
whole perception of fish in Ireland has changed. It's no longer
regarded as a penance, but seen as more of a luxury today. After 10.30
Mass on Friday, there's a bit of a run on cod and haddock, but Saturday
is our best day with people buying it as a weekend treat.
"It's
funny, because in the 1960s it was unheard of to sell fish on a Saturday
because everyone had it on Friday. My grandad never used to sell it but
one Saturday someone dropped down a box of it to him. He took the fish
in, and it flew out so that was the start of it for us."
And while
we're more inclined to cook fish in white wine these days than soak it
in milk, for fanatical fish-lovers like Mark, the old ways are still the
best.
"It might be old-fashioned but there's nothing better than boiled
haddock served with mashed potatoes and crunchy greens. It's the
ultimate comfort food."