Can You Eat Fish Good Friday

Last Friday, I was standing in the grocery store checkout line, clutching a sad-looking loaf of bread and a jar of pickles. The woman in front of me had a cart overflowing with salmon fillets, shrimp, and a whole bag of lemons. She caught my eye and laughed, nodding at her haul. “Just making sure I’m not breaking any rules,” she said with a wink. I nodded back, completely clueless, but suddenly desperate to know what rules she was talking about.

Turns out, she was talking about Good Friday—the day when many Christians abstain from eating meat. But here’s the kicker: fish is totally allowed. Yes, you read that right. You can absolutely eat fish on Good Friday. In fact, it’s practically celebrated with fish fries from coast to coast.

Wait, why is fish okay but chicken isn’t?

The logic here is a bit… squishy, isn’t it? (Pun intended.) For Catholics and some other Christian denominations, Good Friday is a day of fasting and abstinence. That means no meat from warm-blooded animals. But fish, being cold-blooded and slimy, gets a free pass. It’s one of those ancient church rules that makes you wonder if a very hungry bishop was involved in the decision.

So yes, you can eat fish—and it doesn’t have to be a sad, dry piece of cod. Go wild. (But maybe not too wild—it’s still a solemn day for many.)

The “meat” loophole (and why it’s weirdly specific)

The official rule comes from the Code of Canon Law, which says you can’t eat “flesh meat” or its products. So, no beef, pork, chicken, or even bacon (cue dramatic sigh). But fish, shellfish, and even amphibians are considered fair game. Yes, amphibians. If you’ve ever wanted to justify eating frog legs on a holy day, this is your moment.

Personally, I think the church might have just really liked a good Friday fish fry. And honestly? I’m not mad about it. Give me a crispy fish taco with a squeeze of lime, and I’ll call it spiritual.

So, what about other seafood?

Go ahead, load up on shrimp, lobster, crab, and clams. All of it is allowed. The only catch (pun again) is that you can’t treat it like a feast. The idea is to simplify your meal, not throw a lobster party. But let’s be real—if you’re in New Orleans, a Good Friday crawfish boil is practically a tradition.

Just remember: the point is sacrifice. So maybe skip the truffle butter on that salmon. Or don’t—I’m not the pope, and I’m certainly not your conscience.

But what if you’re not religious?

Honestly, who cares if you eat fish? If you’re just looking for a reason to swap out your chicken breast for a tuna melt, Good Friday is as good a day as any. You don’t need a theological reason to enjoy a good piece of fish. But if you do want to play along, you can always say, “I’m practicing solidarity with my Catholic friends.” That usually gets you a pass.

Plus, you’ll have a built-in excuse to avoid the dreaded “why did you order steak?” conversation. Win-win.

The real hero of Good Friday: The fish sandwich

Think about it—fast-food chains literally advertise their fish sandwiches on Good Friday. McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish sales spike so hard it’s practically a holiday in itself. (Side note: does anyone actually know what’s in that square of fried fish? No. But we eat it anyway. Tradition.)

Whether you’re eating fancy grilled halibut or a drive-thru mystery patty, you’re part of a very old, very messy food tradition. And that’s kind of beautiful, isn’t it?

One last note: Don’t be that person

If you’re hosting a Good Friday meal and someone shows up with a roast chicken, don’t panic. Just gently remind them that this is the one day a year we worship the sea. And if they argue, hand them a can of tuna and say, “Here, try this. It’s liturgically correct.”

So can you eat fish on Good Friday? Yes. Can you eat it guilt-free? Absolutely. Just make sure you chew slowly and think deep, spiritual thoughts between bites. Or don’t. I’ll be over here with my lemon wedges and tartar sauce, not judging a single soul.