hello old friend

When I worked at Harvest on Hudson; I ate well. Everyday I sat down to lunch and marveled that I was being paid to work at a place where I ate whatever I wanted.

One of my favorite dishes was Salmon served with cucumber, dates and walnuts with a simple beurre blanc. Nothing fancy, just great flavor and texture. The kind of food combination that looks sort of silly on paper and then wows your pallet.

You might think it was nice that Billy made my favorite meal, but the real sacrifice was the salmon. The boy would rather die than cook salmon and would consider giving up Soduko to avoid ever taking a bite again. I have been banned from even cooking it in the house for fear that the oily smell would forever haunt him in his own home. I once smuggled in a piece of salmon already cooked and warmed it in the microwave. There was hell to pay when Billy came home that night and got a whiff of it. I think he smelled it before he came inside, from the car, with the door closed.

I have done my best to honor his aversion and take a heavy amount of Omega Three supplements. I even snuck one of my "fish pills" in his vitamins once, hoping he might reap the benefits without enduring the fish itself. The post supplement salmon breath was more than he could bear.

Post-traumatic prep cook disorder is under studied. Billy is the poster child.
I felt terrible enjoying my feast in front of him, but grateful that he was not only willing to watch me devour it, but happy to make the sacrifice. Who knew one meal could mean so much?