While Lent is strongly connected to the Catholic faith, the tradition goes back to the early church. But like every American holiday from Easter to Halloween, the modern version is slightly more “‘Murica” than it was before, say, the 1950’s. A nod to the 40 days Jesus spent roaming the desert, abstaining and fasting are the norm. Not eating meat is a major part of this, and with fish being cold-blooded, they are the easiest go-to substitute during Lent.
Eventually, public houses began serving fish on Fridays (the day associated with the crucifixion) during Lent, bringing a more social atmosphere to a tradition previously observed in the home. Today, churches all over the US use the Friday fish fry as a fundraiser, a chance for congregation, and a form of outreach to the wider community. So on the five Fridays of Lent, your local Catholic church has almost certainly warmed up the fryer in their basement or meeting hall. Here in Bisbee, Arizona things are no different, and I stopped by St Patrick’s Catholic church on the last Friday of Lent to partake.
You can probably guess that fried foods are on offer, with breaded white fish, shrimp, French fries, and hushpuppies making up the main fare. It’s a full plate and they have homemade deserts and drinks on offer for $2/ea on top of the $15/plate for the main course. St Partick’s is on a hill (because everything is on a hill in Bisbee, it’s build in a slot canyon) so their meeting hall is at ground level but under the church, giving the basement level feel you’ll find at many fish fryies in the US.
I mention it because Lent as we know it has a lot to do with the German and Swedish immigrants who settled in the Midwest, spreading their own customs around; somehow things feel more authentic when the room you’re in has the acoustics of being underground. That’s probably just me, but I’m telling the story, so there ya go.
Not being a member of the church (or a Catholic for that matter) I was happy that everyone was friendly but not nosy, making me feel extremely welcome without someone trying to talk my ear off and get the local gossip on me. It was all smiles when I was handed a foam container with a half-and-half order of fish and shrimp. I chose pineapple upside down cake for my desert simply because I haven’t had it in forever, then grabbed a seat.
It’s been a long time since I was in a church and I enjoyed the multi-generational vibe. Toddlers were toddling, with grandma in tow to make sure they didn’t wander away or stick a fork in a light socket. Adults chatted casually with each other about the weather or car repairs or youth sports, and old couples sat together closely as they ate, leaning into each other as they enjoyed one another’s company over a simple meal.
That feeling is not one I encounter often. It’s a specific form of peace and contentment. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary is happening, but everything is as it should be. Combined with the dead sound from the walls around us and the building above, I ate peacefully and let the quietness swirl around me.
The hushpuppies were certainly not up to par with the ones found in the South — drier and without the touch of sweetness fresh corn bits add — but they were still a fun surprise to go with the meal. The shrimp was surprisingly good too: cooked to perfection and not over-breaded despite surely being a store-bought brand, and the cocktail sauce provided went well with them.
This is the American Southwest, so sliced jalapenos can on the side along with the lemon slices, and went pretty good with the coleslaw. Every region has their own take on things after all, and these little differences are part of what makes food such a cultural identifier. Too bad we’re so for south here, as being closer to the rez might mean Indian fry bread instead of hushpuppies.
The fish was also good when taken in context. These aren’t wild-caught cod of pollock fillets, but they’re a step above frozen fish sticks too. Coming in a triangle shape is a strong sign you’re eating cafeteria grade food.
There’s a tendency to choose white fish for frying since they have a less fishy taste, which appeals to a broader audience, and they were a sufficient delivery vehicle for tartar sauce. The upside down cake was excellent, but that’s to be expected; even the chow hall in the Marine Corps made an excellent pineapple upside down cake.
The recipe is like a cheat code for moisture, which increases shelf life without adding artificial preserves. It’s a high fat, low effort desert, and tolerates mistakes. The brown sugar and butter acts like a moisture barrier, and works its way through the cake: it’s not just a coating. You get the sweet, caramel flavor along with the pineapple, which is usually canned in syrup and therefore adds more sweetness than citrus-like punch.
Upstairs
After eating and trading a few hellos with smiling faces, I was ready to move. I can be a social person, but the on/off switch for it is hidden to me. I can’t flip it myself and today it was in the “off” position. But the St. Patrick’s church itself deserved a quick walk through. While nearly everything in Bisbee is historic (literally the whole of Old Bisbee has been on the National Registry since 1980), the church is special amongst many special buildings.
Designed by Albert C. Martin Sr. in 1914, his designs helped style Los Angeles as it established itself (it was still a spread out farming community in 1900, and he designed several landmarks in the area). The church went up quickly and is a Gothic Revival style, with groundbreaking on Labor Day 1915 and completion in 1917. Like any old church, it cuts an amazing silhouette, sitting on Quality Hill, almost 200-ft up from the base of Tombstone Canyon. It sits next door to the county courthouse, itself a towering structure, but of the 1930’s art deco style.
You don’t have to be religious to feel the power of the building either; if you understand energy and intention you feel it wrap around you as you enter through the front doors. Yes there is majesty and intricacy in the many figures and in the molding and of course in the altar, but the intensity I felt was from the overall feel. High ceilings compared to the close-by walls bring your senses upward. Stain glass windows filter light through in dazzling colors as they depict images of Christ, the Virgin Mary, or Saints.
The floor creaks as you walk, beckoning you to tread with more intention as you walk the perimeter, looking at small depictions of Christ’s life and his many miracles. Strangely I don’t remember a single smell, as these churches almost always smell of either incense or the musk of 100 years of foot traffic. This was later afternoon, so the desert sun breaking through the stain glass was definitely the most vivid memory I left with. Well that, and pineapple upside down cake.
My heavy touring bike was heavier than usual as I picked it up off the kickstand, more because of the sloped lot than a full stomach, but it made me pause a moment and reflect. Such a simple act…sharing I mean.
It’s a fundraiser yes, but is more than a financial exchange. Sharing a meal with someone is an act of giving, and only the most over-engineered fast-food chains can sterilize it to a point that this isn’t recognizable. Even some chain restaurants can’t mask it. Putting the kitchen open to where you can chat with the cook if things are slow makes it possible to remember the experience of eating is a human one (Waffle House is a perfect example).
Having filled up more than my stomach, I could point the bike down hill and follow Tombstone Canyon Rd. through Old Bisbee before getting dropped on the highway by the Copper Queen mine. The wide open view across the famous Lavender Pit is always next, and that panorama is a great spot to stop and reflect as well. I chose to keep puttering by the overlook though, and let the road carry me where it may.
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