jesse F.
Google
Fish Sticks Worthy of Public Consumption
The home team hit a grand slam in the first inning and went on to win. But let’s focus on the true highlight of the night: the $3 fish sticks.
Normally, fish sticks are a private food. The kind of thing you eat at home in your pajamas, a nostalgic compromise between hunger and convenience. They’re humble. They’re dependable. But they’re not exactly public food. You don’t order fish sticks on a date. You don’t take pride in them. They’re for when no one is watching.
But these? These fish sticks are different.
Served hot and crisp, made with Trident fish sticks at what I can only assume is the highest level of care and execution, they crossed a line I didn’t know existed—into respectability. These were not the soggy microwaved relics of childhood lunches. These had crunch. These had pride. These were fish sticks that asked to be eaten outdoors, among strangers, with zero shame.
At $3, they were a special promotion, but I’d pay more for them again. And not just because of the deal or the setting, but because someone in that stadium kitchen decided to treat fish sticks not as a fallback, but as the main event. And for once, they were.
A baseball game happened, and the Fish Sticks won. Fitting. But for me, the real victory was realizing fish sticks could be a public food after all.
