How to make gravlax

First, drive to the Char Burger underneath Bridge of the Gods in Cascade Locks and purchase a whole salmon from the native Americans who show up there in old cars with huge ice chests in the trunks. Andrew and I did this last year at the end of a hike in the Columbia Gorge; we bought half an 18 pound salmon then, ate salmon all week until we were sick of it, and then I made gravlax with the rest. This we served at parties for the rest of the year, to great acclaim. I have recently learned that fatty fish are particularly good for people vulnerable to kidney diseases and cancer, so I'm game to eat salmon. And this salmon is primo.

Today Anne and I returned from Bend via the Gorge, so we stopped for gravlax makings. We were thinking of two parties coming up, and Caro and Alec's visit. We spoke with a man who was just closing up shop -- urr, car -- folding up the Fresh Fish! Salmon - Trout sign and pushing it into the back seat next to one of the two round, sad-faced women accompanying him. He explained he only had "small" ones left, and showed us six two-foot-long fish, three salmon, three steelhead. I selected one that was shiny silver and red pink -- a six pound salmon.

"These fish only bite at night," he volunteered as he was wrapping it in a plastic bag. "I caught them, this morning, at the platform." He nodded towards the river behind us beyond the the parking lot, but I didn't see any platforms. "So I've been awake since..." he rubbed his eyes, "since 1 a.m. The fish only bite at night, see," he repeated. We made sympathetic sounds, and he asked, rather warily, "Do you know how much they cost?"

I did -- generally the going price for a wild salmon, whole (but gutted) caught before dawn that day, is $5.00 a pound. My Intel boss, who told me of the fish trucks last summer, said that you can usually dicker them down to $2.00 a pound or so. I feel that even in my jobless state I do not have to get up at 1:00 a.m. to catch fish and then sit in the parking lot of a tourist-stop hamburger joint for six hours in order to feed my family, and so I can afford the full $5.00/pound asking price, which is about $8.00/pound less than what we pay at the grocery store.

As it happened, I only had twenties, and he had no tens (he pulled wads and wads of twenties out of his pocket -- I estimate he had easily $500 dollars stuffed into his jeans). He offered me all the rest of his fish for $10 more, but there's no way we could eat 30 or more pounds of salmon and trout, so I declined. I told him to keep the difference -- so I paid $6.66/pound -- and he very cordially shook my hand, smiling with relief. It didn't occur to me until writing this that we do have a freezer with space, and I've been wanting to try Steelhead.

Second, try to remember which recipe you used when you made gravlax last year. Then, I read Martha Stewart's (way too fussy), Joy of Cooking (too sweet), Julia Child's and Jacques Pepin. But I have some idea that I made some combination of all of them -- and sad to say, I didn't write it down. This year I went with Julia Child's recipe, with one amendment.

Third, fillet the salmon. This is less easy than you might expect, if you thought it was easy. For one thing, we have only one sharp knife in the house, and it's a paring knife (recently purchased from Ikea). And salmon aren't shaped like walleye -- the spine vertabrae isn't up along the upper edge of the fish, but about an inch inside it (look at your next salmon steak with filleting in mind and it will be obvious). And I still don't understand the architecture of the fish -- there seem to be more rib cages at the front of the fish than at the back.

The salmon is amazing, however -- it's tender and completely scent-less, with a texture like soft cheese. Andrew and I kind of hacked out the bones, so it's a far from professional-looking pair of fillets. We cut off the tail section for our dinner tomorrow night, and I started curing the rest.

Fourth, (following Julia Child) make a mixture of just about equal parts of salt and sugar. Sprinkle this over the fillets. Then drizzle about 2 tablespoons of cognac over each fillet (I used French Brandy; I'm pretty sure last year I used vodka). Lay one fillet in a pan. Cover with a cup (packed) of fresh dill sprigs. Lay the second fillet on top of it, and cover with plastic wrap.

(I do not foresee a career for myself as a food photographer.)

The amendment to Julia Child's recipe is that I scattered on some Juniper Berries in addition to the dill. Only on a small section of the fish, since none of the recipes I found today call for them -- but I distinctly remember buying the berries for last year's batch.

Fifth, press the fillets with weights of at least 4 pounds. This involves running all over the house looking for a board that is just smaller than the pan the fish is in, and capable of being smeared with curing fish and cognac and salt and sugar. In the end, I used two bread loaf pans, stuffed with bags of uncooked rice and cans of soup.

Sixth, fiddle and flavor. Tomorrow night I will take the presses off, unwrap the fillets, turn them over, baste them with their own juices, and then rewrap and repress. In two days, I do the same, but I am supposed to taste a small slice of salmon and season accordingly. In four days, the salmon will have turned opaque and mostly solid (more like ripe melon than soft cheese) and then it will be ready to eat. It will keep in the fridge for a week (we've actually served it two to three weeks later -- and no one got sick!). We have also quite successfully frozen it -- just wrap as is (after curing) in foil. Let it thaw in the fridge and serve as usual.

To serve, cut paper thin slices and serve on rye bread, accompanied by thin slices of lemon, cream cheese, horseradish sauce and sour cream. We had it as part of a smorgasbord last December, and it went fast.