The day brings an epiphany and salmon

"Grandma, what's heaven like?"
"I don't know. When I go there, I will come back and tell you, all right?"
"Okay, Grandma."


Maria Theresa - known in the USA as "Tessie" died when I was 11. There was so much I didn't know. So much I am finding out - about all my grandparents and great grandparents.
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Yesterday, I came home from a challenging and poignant day. I put my pots on the stove and improvised. I thought a lot about why I cook. And why it has grown in importance the older I get. Yes, I love to eat. Yes, I want to pass down my heritage to my children; "yes" to all answers regarding cooking and family and organics and local ...

I have been researching the foods and recipes of Basilicata. Grandma did not hand down any recipes. It was all what was fresh, what was handy and all was cooked according to what was "right" by the seeing and "delicious" by the tasting.
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I added some oil to my pot. Sliced cabbages and onions and thyme. Threw in a pad of Earth Balance butter for creaminess. Sauteed. Added some wine. Simmered. Added some orange juice. Stood over the stove. Stirred. Added the salmon.


How could I have not realized that I cook to find my grandparents... that I cook to talk to them because I was too little when they were here or they were gone before I was here. I cook to find them and ask them questions.

Grandma did not come back to tell me what heaven was like. Or, I missed the call. But she's inside me, guiding me... telling to to look, taste and feel. Throw away the recipe and pay attention to what you are doing.
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When I cook, I am doing something that has been done through the ages. I am connected. And I have many guides, many loves and a wealth of inspiration.

Magical Galway

The August Cover Girl dinner was a wee bit late. We were in Ireland! Although back stateside, little pieces of my spirit stayed in Ireland to ensure I would return. Below is a peek at Galway - in the west of Ireland.

"And walk among long dappled grass, and pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun" - Yeats

Ireland: Land of faeries, romance, leprechauns, Yeats, Joyce, Guinness and Italian food! I had been told prior to going to Ireland that if I was looking for Shepherd's Pie and Irish stew, I had best stick to the little towns. We started off in Galway and indeed found as many Italian restaurants as could be found in Little Italy in New York City.

McCambridges on Quay Street provided us with some grand wake-me-up caffeine complete with a small doughnut housing some wickedly, dense dark, velvety chocolate.

McCambidges also housed the largest vats of pesto I had ever seen. I wondered if there were fields of basil about.

We did have some fresh and filling fish and chips at Rodeo on Quay Street.

And remained amused that we had been travelling for over over twenty-four hours only to wind up in an American-western themed bar! With French servers!

After a wee bit of rest, we found our bearings and embraced the true Irish pubs of Galway. Each one has a story - many dating back to medieval times. The King's Head on High Street is so named because (much to the misery of the locals) it was taken over by a group of Englishman after the Siege of Galway ended in 1652. One of the officers, Colonel Peter Stubbers boasted there that "he knew the strength of Charles Stuart's neck" implying the he was the executioner of King Charles. He should have remained quiet! When the monarchy was restored he was blackmailed by his listener - a Mr. Deane who used the capital to buy an estate in Balroebuck, Tuam. Is the story true? The Deane's did have an estate in Balroebuck and the Stubbers continued to own the pub until 1912. You decide.

And who cannot be charmed by the Druid Lane Restaurant? Housed in a medieval building (1663), the restaurant offers a diverse menu and wine bar. It was the perfect stop after walking the Claddagh and Galway Beach.

"Although I can see him still, The freckled man who goes to a grey place on the hill. In grey Connemara clothes, At dawn to catch his flies." Yeats,

"Although I can see him still, The freckled man who goes to a grey place on the hill. In grey Connemara clothes, At dawn to catch his flies." Yeats.

After a day of touring the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher (absolutely do go there, it is quintessential Ireland - magical, enchanting, breathtaking and mysterious), we finally found our traditional Irish meal - at The Western Hotel.

Smoked Salmon mounded around crab salad. James Joyce's favorite Irish meal. Fresh from the Atlantic, delicately prepared with some capers and roasted vegetables, the Irish have elevated salmon into an art.

It was with great sadness that we packed our bags for Dublin. We said good-bye to Eyre Square, where devoured sandwiches, ice creams and waters,

And made our way to east where we would be Dubliners for a few days.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something fishy this way comes"

SALMONE ALLA GRIGLIA CON SALASA AL TIMO
SALMON WITH THYME AND PARSLEY SAUCE

I misquote Shakespeare when I can. It's an occupational hazard. It does underline the love/hate relationship I have had with fish. I know it contains all sorts of elements that fight disease. It's low-fat (although I have wearied of that phrase), one can eat it sensibly and easily find sustainable fish. I live in the Land of 10,000 lakes where even in winter, you can dig a hole in the ice and find some tasty protein. (But then we tend to deep fry it, negating the reason you're eating this stuff with a zillion (I don't exaggerate) tiny, crunchy bones.)

I adore lobster - growing up in New York City and vacationing in Maine, I was introduced to this luxurious treat in my childhood. Shrimp (never frozen) makes me sing. Halibut can be a delectable. And then there's salmon. Widely available, sustainable and sometimes I like it and sometimes I don't. My favorite is the Copper River Salmon - available four weeks out of 52. Minnesota does seem to get a good crop of salmon in from Canada all winter. Fresh. Sustainable. I like the idea of that meal usually more than I like the meal itself.

As our weather soared into the fifties, I took some salmon home. Grilling season has begun. My entire block was lighting up their grills. And I tried a variation of Giuliano Hazan's recipe. I can usually count on him to give it a light, Italian taste. And he came through.

Salmon with Thyme and Parsley Sauce adapted from Giuliano Hazan: (Serves 4)

2T fresh lemon juice

salt

8 sprigs flat leaf parsley

8 sprigs thyme (I use more herbs that Mr. Hazan)

5 T extra-virgin olive oil

2 lbs salmon fillets

freshly ground pepper

4 T bread crumbs

Preheat gas or charcoal grill (I am hooked on charcoal). Put the lemon juice and the salt in a small bowl and stir till dissolved. Chop the herbs finely to have 2 T of each. Add herbs to the bowl and whisk in 4 T of the olive oil until emulsified.

Season fish with salt and pepper and coat it with the bread crumbs. Drizzle remaining 1 T of olive oil over it. Place salmon on grill. Cook the fish for about 5 minutes per inch of thickness, turning the fillets once. Salmon should be pink in center and flaky when done. Transfer to a serving platter, pour the herb sauce over it and serve.

I served it with some brown rice and a Greek Salad (my salad of choice in the winter: greens, thinly sliced cucumber, feta cheese, Kalamata olives, scallions and a lemon-oil vinaigrette.)

It wasn't fishy - tasting like the first buds of spring - all lemony and herby and fresh. I liked it. Don't think I will even do the breadcrumbs next time. There. I said it: next time! So, maybe it isn't that I don't like most fish, maybe I'm just fussy over its preparation.

Oh! And for dessert? I had my eye on the French Yogurt Cake that was the recipe of the week over at Tuesdays with Dorie. It was perfect and will be the dessert for the monthly family Cover Girls Cooking dinner. The recipe is here.