What Exactly Do You Want Me To Do Here?

A few years back, whenever we would come down here, one of the first things on our agenda was to get our hands on some fresh fish. We used to have a "fish hook up," and with the little man, in the Bjorn, I would trek the 2 miles on what was dubbed, "the pescado death march." Well, it seems as though our connection has moved on to greener pastures, and we have been a total loss for some of the white stuff; white fish that is. We've been asking around, and today we were given a 15 minute warning to make our way to a small hut in a nearby village, and just "ask for Enrique." My husband was able to get his hands on three kilos of the good stuff and a transfer was made. He came home plastic bag in hand and gave me this.

"Um, what exactly do you want me to do here?" I asked my hubby.

"Hell if I know," was his reply.

See, our old fish dealer used to fillet the fish for us, it's seems as though the new guy is lacking a bit in the customer service department. I'm not exactly a girly girl, but I can guarantee you that there is no way I am going to cut into that fish. I mean, they are actually looking at me!

I called in for reinforcements... turns out the Little Man is as unsure of what to do as his momma is. (and equally as freaked out too!)

Looks like I'm going to have to you tube how to cut these bad boys. Someone in this house is going to have to take care of business (and by someone, rest assured I don't mean me.)

Is it possible the LM has a secret hidden talent for de-boning a fish???