• Whole Trout Stuffed with Fresh Herbs

It was Sunday evening, and I was spending it pondside with my husband and two of our dearest friends. We were trying our hands at largemouth bass fishing, complete with chartreuse-colored spinner baits, a couple of cold ones and a sunset to die for.

Bites might have been few and far between, but as the mosquitoes hovered and the frogs chirped among the lily pads, I couldn't help but recall my mother's stories of my grandfather's love of fishing.

Nearly every weekend, Grandpa would pack his tackle box with his homemade flies (he used to tie each one by hand) along with a few sandwiches and head out near the dam to fish the swirling waters of the New River in West Virginia. On lucky days, he'd bring home a few fresh trout for cooking, and on unlucky days, he'd simply have the time of his life.

There's something so calming about fishing. Perhaps it's the silence or just the repetitive action of casting and reeling. Maybe it's the way that -- no matter who you are, or where you're from, or what your level of fishing expertise is (or in my case, isn't) -- you suddenly feel like Henry David Thoreau standing by Walden Pond appreciating the simple things for the first time in your life.

While I was fishing next to my husband and friends, I had my Thoreau moment when I finally caught my first and only fish. First, I felt the small tug on the end of my line, and then a dead weight set in as the fish moved from side to side. I reeled it in toward shore, and it put up a pretty good fight. As we removed the hook, I saw it was a pretty big one -- aren't they all (wink!)? However, back into the water it went because, as a largemouth bass in this particular pond, it was catch and release only.

While my bass had to be returned, few can argue that there's nothing better than enjoying a meal of fish caught only hours before. There's no trip to the store, no debit card transaction and no plastic to unwrap before cooking. It's just you, your catch, and a well-seasoned frying pan, grill or oven.

I have so many amazing memories of cooking and eating freshly caught fish, like the time we caught more than 20 croakers and spot near Deltaville. We had more than we knew what to do with, yet after a short boat ride home, they were filleted, dredged in cornmeal and fried in hot oil. A few homemade rolls and a fresh batch of coleslaw completed this meal to die for. I can still taste those first few bites -- just the right saltiness and crunch revealing juicy white meat inside.

On another occasion, while fishing the shoreline in the Outer Banks, we caught a couple of nice-sized gray trout. Instead of filleting and frying them, we simply cleaned the fish and stuffed them whole with a few fresh herbs, a little butter and lemons. Then we popped them in the oven until they were nice and flaky tender. It was such a simple preparation, but what an amazing reward at the end.

My grandpa would often prepare his freshly caught trout in the same manner. Like many purists, he believed that fish this fresh doesn't need much. No fancy, complicated sauces. No heavy breading. When you're lucky enough to cook up your own fresh catch, all you need are a few basic seasonings and a good fire. So, the next time you have a lucky day at the river, remember to keep it simple once you're back home in the kitchen. It's what Grandpa would've done.
Kendra Bailey Morris is a Richmond-based food writer, culinary instructor and author of "White Trash Gatherings: From-Scratch Cooking for Down-Home Entertaining" (Ten Speed Press). Send ideas, tips or culinary questions to info@theaccidentalchef.net or visit www.theaccidentalchef.net.