Hushpuppies, Fried Fish, Crispy Bacon
After a morning spent fishing, Capt. William Toney switches his focus to eating.
We pull away from the dock and idle by a set of ornamental palm trees made entirely of propellers collected from the Homosassa River’s notoriously rocky channel on Florida’s west coast. The effigy is a reminder of local navigational hazards, but I am riding in complete confidence alongside Capt. William Toney, who traverses this limestone minefield with the certainty of an Olympic slalom skier.
As we pass a waterfront tiki bar packed with sunburned tourists, I don’t give a thought to that menu’s offerings. I’m bound for an authentic “Old Florida” seafood lunch with no fancy dining room or valet parking — just a tranquil waterside clearing with cedars shading a memorable meal prepared by the same hands that deftly dodged those limestone motor munchers.
Shore lunch includes fried fish, usually seatrout, which Toney dredges in seasoned flour.
Running his 23-foot custom Tremblay tunnel hull out of MacRae’s Marina, Toney spends his days pointing out dolphin and manatees, and teaching clients how to catch the speckled trout, redfish, pompano and sheepshead roaming the grass flats and rocky points. The amicable guide can do it all, but some of the best memories he creates involve paper plates stacked with freshly fried fish, baked beans and coleslaw.
Toney employs a time-tested formula that blends laidback lunch fare with reflections of the morning’s angling exploits — all within a quiet, unspoiled river habitat that exudes Bali Hai (which loosely translates to “your own special island”) charm. “I’ve been cooking shore lunches for about 20 years,” says Toney, a fourth-generation Homosassan.
Enjoying some shade along the shores of the Homosassa River as oil bubbles and delicious aromas rise from the camp stove is enough to make the stomach growl.
Locations vary but are always rich on tree cover and charm. While Toney has access to a private island and knows all the publicly accessible spots, his main criteria includes a soft sandy section for beaching and sufficient approach depth to prevent a low-tide stranding.
Every shore lunch features fresh fillets caught just a couple of hours prior to cooking. For those who favor catching fish over eating it, chicken breasts provide a nice option. The beans and slaw are standard, but folks are welcome to bring additional sides.
“When I first started cooking shore lunches, I had a Coleman stove my parents gave me when I graduated high school, along with a sleeping bag and tent,” Toney says. “Their idea was that I would never be homeless. That stove still works, but it’s kind of like the horse in the south pasture — retired. Today, I use a folding stainless-steel burner because it takes up less space in the boat.”
Toney fries up some bacon to season the oil and top his appetizer.
Within Toney’s fish-frying process lies a bit of magic. To a skillet half-filled with vegetable oil, Toney adds bacon strips and fries them to a crispy brown. The salty pork seasons the oil and provides a key element of an appetizer that for me became the shore lunch centerpiece.
Toney hands me a freshly fried hushpuppy and tells me to break it in half and slather it with some homemade guava jelly jarred by his mother and aunts. A chunk of crispy bacon is placed on top of the jelly, and I pop it in my mouth. The bite is a perfect mix of sweet and savory, soft and crunchy. The combination causes me to close my eyes, tilt my head and mm-mm with pure culinary indulgence. My endorphins yield only by the sudden urge to lather and top the other half of that hushpuppy.
Toney dredges the filets in salt-and-peppered flour and delicately fries them in the bacon-seasoned oil. The whole process takes 10 to 15 minutes. The only challenge is managing the hushpuppy intake to save room for the main course.
If time permits, Toney adds a second entree by collecting fresh oysters from the river’s many shell bars and shoreline accumulations. He roasts the oysters over a small campfire until the shells pop open and are ready to eat. The soul-soothing vibes of the campfire induce conversation while the aromatic smoke keeps winged insects at bay and the glowing driftwood embers add rustic mood lighting. A dash of hot sauce on the oyster is optional, but I recommend you skip the crackers and slurp the tasty treat right out of the shell. I was never a fan oysters until I tried one cooked this way. Once I tossed back that first roasted bivalve, my fellow lunch-goers nearly had to restrain me from grabbing their share.
Downing a hushpuppy with crispy bacon and homemade guava jam turned out to be one of the most memorable morsels of the Homosassa shore lunch.
As the oil bubbles and the fire smolders, Toney talks about how he learned Florida’s Nature Coast waterways fishing with his father and uncle as an adolescent. If you’re a live-off-the-land type, he’s happy to point out the region’s edible plants. As for fishing tales, Toney has plenty.
After lunch, he shows me a hidden Indian mound on the Homosassa’s north bank. We run past his favorite area to spot bald eagles, and he shares his thoughts on how this naturally splendid region has maintained its Old Florida appeal, rich with native greenery and light on development. I listen intently as I contemplate poking around for leftover hushpuppies.
“What makes me feel I’ve done a good job is teaching someone to cast, handle a rod and catch a fish,” Toney says. “If I can do that for my clients and they eat the fish they caught, I can sleep at night.”
