Even in fly fishing, there are traditions. Some are a bit odd—certainly not mainstream—and continue year in and year out, whether they are odd or not. 

So it was with pepper sandwiches.

Every year, about a week before opening day of trout season in the Catskills, I would receive a call from my old friend Frank Mele. Frank would call and ask if I was ready to go “out” on opening day—come cold, rain, snow or high water—to Mecca (that is, the Beaverkill River) to begin another trout season, fishing aside. 

In the eyes of many dedicated fly fishers, the opening day of trout season is a ritual that rises to a religious experience, and cannot be missed. Looking back, all these years later, I’ve come to understand that an opening day excursion had more to do with putting all the drudgery of a long Catskill winter behind, rather than actually doing any fishing.

Anyway, Frank would remind me that, regardless of the weather, I was due at his house in Woodstock at 9 a.m. on opening morning, which at the time was April 1. As part of the opening day plan, it was customary to talk about lunch for the next day’s trip. Despite so many opening days, the menu never changed, and included just two time-honored items: strong black coffee and pepper sandwiches. 

I guess one could say that Frank was a gourmet of sorts, in that everything he prepared and ate, was made from the highest quality ingredients that he could find. For opening day, there was strong black coffee and pepper sandwiches. That’s it, although I often brought a candy bar or two. 

When it came to the coffee, Frank had a purveyor in Manhattan who roasted a special blend, which came to Woodstock in brown paper bags, six to the order. Upon arrival, the coffee was immediately frozen until needed. No Folgers or Maxwell House for Frank. The coffee was brewed in a stainless-steel drip coffee maker that did not require a paper filter, and was very strong. 

Instead of sugar, we sweetened Frank’s coffee with honey purchased from an apiary, located near Climax, NY. That honey came in quart containers, a case at a time. Frank kept the honey for daily use in a glass jar, set in a bowl that was partially filled with water, in order to to keep out the ants. He called this method of storage “my moat.”

Opening day pepper sandwiches were not ordinary sandwiches. And  like all foods that Frank prepared, followed a strict recipe. First, there was seedless rye bread, sourced from Cohen’s Bakery in Ellenville, NY. No other bread would do. One would think that green bell peppers would be the pepper of choice for opening day pepper sandwiches. Nope. Only, long, thin-skinned cubanelle peppers were acceptable. Those peppers were sliced , seeded and then added to a large stainless steel frying pan which had been liberally anointed with Madre Sicilia, an imported extra-virgin olive oil. Several cloves of peeled garlic were dropped in the pan toward the end of the frying process to add flavor, along with a pinch of salt. 

Once the peppers were sufficiently cooked, the garlic was removed, and half-a-dozen thoroughly beaten eggs were scrambled with the fried peppers. 

While the eggs cooked, Frank cut eight slices of the rye bread. Then, as odd as it sounds, he spread a liberal amount of Hellman’s mayonnaise on four pieces of the rye, along with some of the pepper/egg mixture. Then he closed the sandwiches. The sandwiches were then cut in half on a diagonal and wrapped in old-fashioned waxed paper and packed in a brown paper bag, ready for our trip.

Next rods, waders, fishing vests and finally the vacuum flask of coffee and the bag of pepper sandwiches were loaded in the car and off we went.

We followed Route 212 through Woodstock, on to Mount Tremper where it joined Route 28. Then it was on to Route 30, where along Pepacton Reservoir, near Cat Hollow, we took Route 206 into Roscoe, where the road follows the Beaverkill River, just upstream of Junction Pool. 

Of all the pools found in Catskill rivers, none are more famous than where the Willowemoc Creek and the Beaverkill River meet to form  that pool, our first stop. And despite the weather, a few brave souls stood waist-deep in the current, rods at the ready, waiting for a first trout of the season. 

From Junction Pool, we took Old Route 17 downstream to Hendrickson’s Pool. That’s where the pepper sandwiches and coffee were served for a tasty lunch.

After lunch, we headed back to Roscoe for a stop at the locally famous Antrim Lodge. There we caught up with other opening day anglers and had a drink before heading upriver to visit with Harry and Elsie Darbee, very old friends. After the Darbees, it was on to the Beaverkill Road, over Barkaboom Mountain, around the back side of Pepacton Reservoir and home.

The last time Frank and I went to the Beaverkill on opening day was in 1994. Frank died in 1996, so after that there were no more opening days, no more pepper sandwiches: the sad end of a very long tradition.