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The Lenten season requires you to suspend your disbelief. Not sure about a skinny 33-something dude turning down a loaf of bread after fasting in the wilderness for 40 days? It’s Lent, baby! Get over it! Planning to give up sugar for six weeks? Sure, okay Lent! A little shaky on hand-washing practices at your parish’s weekly fish fry? Shove it, man it’s Lent, and anything’s possible!
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But to a lapsed Protestant like myself, nothing feels quite so
Lenten as the annual parade of the fast fish sandwiches. I’m referring to the two-month-ish period during which nearly every major fast food chain rolls out its limited-time fried fish sandwich, complete with a dollop of Catholic-friendly tartar sauce. It’s a glorious occasion, but also one that demands a certain faith in the impossible. First of all, fish products shouldn’t have right angles, and there’s no way any of that “Alaskan pollock” is actually wild-caught. And yet for as long as I can re