Bait On A Bun

I tasted my first flying fish cutter at the popular Waterfront Cafe in Barbados, and it was love at first bite!  My friend Nancy and I had been shopping in Bridgetown, and loaded with packages had wended our way to the busy restaurant by the waterfront.  The cafe was a welcoming oasis, with wrought iron tables and chairs shaded by a large awning. It was a relief to sit down after a hectic morning in Bridgetown, and I drank an ice-cold Banks beer as I studied the impressive menu. Nancy urged me to try the flying fish cutter, she was familiar with the cafe and told me it was pretty much a rite of passage for my first visit. The flying fish cutter WAS delicious and I wanted to make them at my own restaurant, they would be a nice addition to the menu. However,  I had little hope of offering them at Mac’s, flying fish were not harvested in St. Vincent and the cutter had to be made with the right fish. 

Years later a local business on the mainland named Villamar started selling vacuum-sealed bags of balahoo.  I had been doing business with Villamar for quite a few years, buying their tasty smoked fish, samosas and conch & callaloo soup.  The owner (Miguele) sent me a sample of the new balahoo they were offering, and I immediately thought of the flying fish cutters. Mac and I had spent a night at a friend’s house in Barbados a few weeks before, and watched carefully as they prepared the tasty Bajan fish sandwiches.  The balahoo looked quite a bit like flying fish, would they taste similar?

I knew balahoo but had never eaten it.  On Bequia it was used primarily as bait to catch bigger fish such as Barracuda, and I had certainly never seen it on a menu.  Mac’s father Bluesy always used Balahoo when he went fishing, swearing they were the best bait.  I knew they were thin and bony, not the type of fish I would ordinarily want to bother with.  However, Villamar’s packaged Balahoo were already boned, and each bag held between eight and ten small fillets. On the front of the package was the key cooking tip;

 “Prepare as Flying Fish”.

Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, I was willing to give the balahoo sandwiches a shot at the Pizzeria.

I seasoned the small fish with salt, garlic and ticky thyme, then dredged them in flour.  They were then dipped in a beaten egg mixture and dragged through a bowl of homemade breadcrumbs. I fried them lightly on each side (they took very little time to cook because they were so thin), then blotted them with a paper towel.  Served on a fresh bread roll with crispy lettuce the fish sandwich was divine!  I whipped together some tartar sauce using mayonnaise, chopped dill pickle and a bit of lime, and it was the perfect finishing touch. 

My father was the first to try the fish sandwich, I often used him as a guinea pig for any new food inventions – he was always happy to help!  After two bites Dad proclaimed the sandwich a winner, and I decided to make it that day’s lunch special.  My only dilemma was what to CALL it; although it looked and tasted just like a Bajan flying fish cutter it was made with balahoo, to call it flying fish would be false advertising.  Fish Sandwich? Fish on a bun?  Balahoo cutter?  Balahoo on a bun? 

The young Manager from Barclay’s Bank arrived for lunch, something he did pretty well every day.  Mark MacIntyre wasn’t just my bank manager, he was also my good friend and tennis partner. Born and raised in Barbados, Mark had been sent to Bequia to manage our bank, and I discovered he could be a lot of fun. He was also a bachelor, which is why he ate out each and every day!  Like my father, Mark invariably ordered the lunch special, and the day we made the first balahoo sandwiches was one of those days.  When he asked about the daily special I told him it was fish on a bun, I would worry about what to call it when I was less rushed!

When I carried Mark’s sandwich to the table his face lit up.

 “Flying fish cutter!  Gurl, you made me a flying fish cutter!”

His face filled with happiness as he took his first few bites, all Bajans love a good flying fish cutter!  However, I had to tell him the truth, and admitted that the fish inside the bun was actually balahoo, not flying fish.

“Balahoo?  What’s that?”

I explained that balahoo is a fish used mainly for bait on Bequia, and his eyes grew wide.  In a loud voice he said;

“Bait on a bun?  You served me bait on a bun?”

Perfect! Thanks to Mark MacIntyre, the tasty fish sandwich was called “Bait on a Bun” from that day onwards.