If I may (and I do not hereby suggest that one shoud eat meat on Friday), having the privilege of living is a state with near one day access to salmon and other ocean fish, and being within reasonable distance to catching trout, kokanee and other piscatorial wonders, I have to admit that the penance of eating fish on Friday is one I grew up with.
Let me explain: my mother, who in reflection may have had some form of ADHD and 4 children and a husband, was not what one might consider a culinary master.
She could do things to fish that most likely had Saints Peter and Andrew spinning in their graves. Fish sticks were so damaged that not even ketchup could hide the insult. She must have felt that other fish were not properly cleaned as she would fry the p&^s out of them. They would come out of the frying pan with the bottom side vulcanized.
It wasn’t until I entered the Army that I realized that fish could actually resemble something desirable for table fare. And if you have not been in the Army… enough said.
So, once I was on my own, fish became a delicacy. Fresh salmon, especially Springers, should cause one to tremble with ecstacy. A pan fried trout is to die for. A piece of halibut is fit for a king, and cabazon or ling cod should create lifetime memories. I had a fantastic tiny shrimp soup in Vietnam I will never forget.
I would suggest that the Church, being Eurocentric, should change the rule. I propose beans and rice, with no condiments.
And I have prayed that my mother have no problem with St Peter as she approaches the gate. Requiescat in pace.