The old guys in Washington ain't no pilgrims at the smelt harvest, they'd net them, gib them, brine them and smoke the hell out of them and pack them and process in mason jars, to be given out sparingly when beer was being served. A Pacific Northwest delicacy. The fish take on a beautiful gold color from the smoke and look as good as they taste.


Well this is a fine pickle we're in, should'a listened to Joe McCarthy and George Orwell I guess.