Native to the East Coast of North America, bass spend every spring in the many eastern rivers that flow into the Atlantic, swimming upstream to spawn. Then they are drawn back to the ocean as summer approaches. As they search for meals in the shallow coastal waters, they themselves become the object of similar searches by another (two-legged) lover of warm-weather ocean waters and their contents.
New England has long esteemed this marine resouce. William Wood, writing in 1634 at the very beginning of English settlement of the region, asserted that "though men are soon wearied with other fish, yet they are never with Basse." That sentiment persisted. Catharine Beecher, whose mid-nineteenth-century writings about domestic matters made her a household name in her day, told her audience that "Bass are good every way." And today, bass are still highly prized by East Coast anglers and cooks alike. Since the collapse of the bass population in the early 1980s, strict management of the species has been one of conservation’s great success stories. Bass are back, with happy bass fishers catching millions each year. So bass fishing—and eating—may now be enjoyed without guilt. That’s good, because as everyone agrees, bass is one succulent fish, its rich meaty flavor complemented by its flaky texture.
To most of us, Thanksgiving dinner brings to mind pumpkin pie almost as much as it does turkey. But the pumpkin pie that we know and love today—a pumpkin custard, gently spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, and a bit of ginger and allspice, and baked in a crust—didn’t come into existence until the late eighteenth century. That was long after abundant harvests began to be celebrated in New England in the mid-seventeenth century. What types of pies would these earliest New Englanders have enjoyed at their "thanksgiving" dinners? Edward Johnson, author of the first history of New England, writes that by the 1650s the English settlers of the region were having “apple, pear, and quince tarts instead of their former Pumpkin Pies.” Clearly, he has a pecking order in mind—and pumpkin isn't at the top. He's referring to the unhappy association in his contemporaries' minds between pumpkins, those ungainly New World vegetables that grew like weeds, and the lean early years of settlement. What he claimed most people preferred were the superior cultivated fruits of the Old World--apples and pears. 
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Something this time for those of you to whom “summer” means nonstop backyard grilling. “Scrod” was a new word in 1850 when the Practical Cook Book by Mrs. Bliss “of Boston” was published (in Philadelphia). At the time, the term was still being spelled in a variety of ways—such as “scrode,” “schrod,” and “schrode.” While people eventually settled on “scrod” for the spelling, they never did agree once and for all on what scrod actually was. Some said it was a small (that is, young), whole codfish, others that it was a piece cut from the tail of a large cod, still others that it could be cut from the tail of either a haddock or a cod. Mrs. Bliss seems to belong to the first school of thought by specifying a young cod. We don’t know anything about Mrs. Bliss, by the way—not even if she really was a Bostonian—except that she wrote one terrific cookbook. We’ve included a generous selection of her recipes in our historic collection Northern Hospitality, and every one of them—from broiled chicken to blueberry pie to raspberry pudding—is simply scrumptious. But in our opinion the best of them all is this one for roasted scrod: 
Fiddleheads are a seasonal vegetable available in New England April through May. They have a taste often compared to asparagus and are loaded with vitamins A and C. This is a tasty and colorful presentation of reds and greens. Although a pasta primavera recipe, you can easily add chicken for more substance. Serve as a main course or as a side dish. It's quick, easy, and an affordable recipe to make. Enjoy! 
