There's nothing more enjoyable than visiting local fish markets in Michigan beach towns. They're nothing like their city cousins in big towns, where the fish is sandwiched between the chicken and pork, all encased in plastic. The fish takes center stage in the small markets where the person behind the counter helps select the pieces you want and wraps them in paper, the way it should be. White fish is a favorite, but I usually can't resist picking up smoked fish for lunch or a snack. Since I buy wine based on it's name, I usually pick up some Fishtown white, a Michigan wine. A chef from Maine who worked on yachts once advised me during a bar conversation in the U.P. to bake white fish until it flakes. Use a fork to test it. Then in that distinctive Maine accent he said: "Then you can pour any sauce on it you want." I follow his advice to this day.
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