Wednesday night's dinner ... bottom of the barrel

I was hell bent on baked beans for supper on Wednesday night, but no. Tony took the kids and Oliver and Raman out and they obviously didn't spend enough time fishing, as in catching fish with a hook and line.  They returned with a greasy cod, a stripey young Dola caught, four shovel-nosed sharks and bait, a great bowl of sardines.  Ugh!

Dola and his stripey.  He was quick to point out that Dato Tony did NOT catch a fish that trip.

"What's for dinner, Mum?"
"Bait, darling."

The bait looked more appetising once it was floured and frying.

Shovel-nosed sharks are actually a species of stingray which I reckon makes them less appealing. I prefer the way Tony first cooked them for me, as chicken fillets in a sweet soy marinade.  I wolfed down the soft white flesh and ate a second helping. Ignorance is bliss.

Kibby grinding the garden herbs and chilli, lots of chilli, to add to the soy sauce ... to mask the taste of the shovel-nosed shark. 

I knocked up a couple of orange self-saucing puddings to make sure everyone was beliful.  Raman then announced pudding needed cream.  I couldn't bear to let down anyone who'd travelled 14,000 km on a motorbike from Victoria.  I scratched my head.  It was 7 pm and the nearest 7/11 was 700km away in Cairns.  Custard.  I scrounged in the pantry and found some cornflour and by a stroke of luck, had bought eggs earlier in the day.

The next day: shovel-nosed shark leftovers with pasta and white sauce.  It got the thumbs up from Oliver.