Four times a year a sportsman’s club near us does a smelt fry. Smelt is a tiny little fish that is generally fried and eaten whole. They are found in the Great Lakes and “run” every year during the spring migration. In the town where I grew up, the smelt run was a big deal. Fishermen would wait for the ice to go out then would camp out on the beach with bonfires and use nets and pails to scoop up buckets full of smelt. Walking on the beach after the run, you could see the remains of the fires. You’d hear stories in the halls of the schools of how successful people were during the run. My family did not really embrace that part of the Northern Wisconsin culture. My deepest, darkest confession is that I didn’t actually eat a smelt until I was an adult.  
My first smelt fry was an eye-opening experience. Friends of ours had been going for years. I only became a member of that group when I started dating my husband. The first time I went, I was completely intimidated despite having a good support system around me. We were in the middle of nowhere, at a gun club, packed in deep. It’s always like this.
Let me take you through our experience. We have never lived closer than 45 minutes to this place, so it’s always a road trip. Road trips mean that we need music. We frequently default to Neil Diamond or Greg Brown. The way home is all about the party music and everyone screaming along to “All I Do Is Win”, but the way there requires something sort of mellow for the country roads. A yarn shop that I like is near the smelt fry, but somehow we’ve not combined the two into a single trip yet.
The club starts serving at 5 PM. We usually arrive at about 4, singing “I Am, I Said” and pull into a parking lot already packed with cars (and pick ups). We make our way across the parking lot to a building that doesn’t look very big. While someone goes up to give them our name and number in our party, someone else goes to the bar and orders our first round. Brandy Old Fashioned Sweets all the way around (except the kids, they usually get a pitcher of Kiddie Cocktails to share). If we are lucky, we manage to grab one of about 5 tables. Our favorite one is in the back corner.
As we sit, the place continues to fill. Soon the place is packed from bar to window. In March and April, sometimes there are people outside.
As we catch up and greet new arrivals, they start to call the numbers of the tables of people that must’ve arrived at 3. We sip and wait. Anticipation brews as the tables get called. After about a 2 old fashioned wait, we finally hear our names. We go up to the register and pay for the dinners. We get a divided white plastic plate each and a blue ticket. Our stuff gets dropped at our table and we get in line.
The line is rarely short. The first item on the buffet is a Nesco roaster filled with potato casserole, hashbrowns smothered in ooey, gooey, cheesy goodness and topped with cornflakes. When we were there on Saturday, both times I went through the line, all the crispy bits were already gone. It only mildly ruined my enjoyment of the sloppy goodness.
When one of the small divisions is filled with casserole, the next stop is the warming table. There are 3 items on that table. A large pan of salty, crispy, headless fish no more than two inches long. The bellies have been slit and the fish curl up onto themselves. I always have to pop one in my mouth before I move on to the chicken.
The chicken. It’s a smooth fried layer, burnt orange in color. The crackly layer peels off to reveal moist meat underneath. Some non-smelt eaters will go to the smelt fry just for the chicken. It’s not to be missed.
The next offering is potato pancakes. These aren’t light and airy latkes. They are dense and somewhat grey in color. The texture is pure mush and they are fabulous drenched in maple syrup.
Fish fry isn’t fish fry without cole slaw and we at least need to pretend we are going to eat a vegetable. Potato pancakes need applesauce. Bread and melted butter round everything off and help absorb the third old fashioned.
The blue ticket (remember when I mentioned that all the way at the top?) is so you can get another plate. Smelt used to be all you can eat. In a lot of ways, even with limiting the number of refills you get, it still is.  
The plastic covered tables have squeeze bottles of cocktail and tartar sauces, but I never use them. While I was pregnant with my daughter, I accidentally got some maple syrup from my potato pancakes on some of my smelt. It’s much better than you’d think, but I mostly just eat them plain.
I found this recipe during one of those long months between April and January while I was waiting for the smelt to run. Despite reading through the instructions and seeing that the sauce was just poured on top of the potatoes, I was hoping for a recipe that would cause me to reflect on the whole smelt experience. This one, sadly, didn’t. I don’t know if it was due to the ingredients not being mixed together or just the fact that I didn’t have old fashioned first, but the experience eating this dish was a bit melancholy. There was nothing wrong with it except it wasn’t exactly what I wanted. It lacked atmosphere and probably smelt.
For other creamy side dish recipes you might want to check out Skillet Au Gratin Potatoes, Sour Cream Lima Beans, and Broccoli Casserole. Â
Potato Casserole
Ingredients
- 2 lb bag Frozen Hash Brown Potatoes
- 1/4 cup Melted Butter
- 1 can Cream of Chicken Soup
- 1/2 cup Chopped Onion
- 1 cup Cheddar Cheese
- 1/2 cup Crushed Potato Chips
Instructions
- Preheat Oven to 350 degrees.
- Break up frozen potatoes into a buttered baking dish.
- Mix butter, soup, onion and cheese together and pour over potatoes.
- Sprinkle potato chips on top and bake for 45 minutes.
My husband is quick with the jokes, too! This looks so delicious. I can’t wait to try it!
I hope you like it! It’s so easy to make and very adaptable.