The Taste Of Home
We’ve been eating very well since we’ve been back. The first week we had insatiable cravings for Mexican food, and that’s almost all we ate. But now it’s American food that floats our boat, like this lush Copper River salmon, abundant this year and delightfully less expensive than in years past.
I’m rediscovering the joys of smoking, standing out on the back deck with my hair full of the sweet smoke of cherry wood, waiting for the chicken and corn to take on that aroma of the wild, the scent that women have been bathed in since they first learned how to carry fire with them on their travels.
Eggs are another ancient food, belonging to no one culture, but made like this, according to our friend Kathy’s secret recipe for family happiness and by her own hand, they call us back to childhood picnics, summer evenings, and lightning bugs in jars.
I didn’t have shishito peppers as a child, but since I’ve only ever had them in America I count them as American food. They’re beautifully miniature, just a bite or two apiece, and one in a hundred or so is spicy enough to surprise you, while the other 99 are reassuringly sweet.
Even sweeter is this raspberry mousse pie. Actually, I could make this in France and French people would definitely enjoy it, but it’s here that raspberries are plentiful and affordable. After several days of raspberries by the handful, in cereal, in smoothies, and even on toast, a raspberry mousse pie seemed like just the thing.
It’s funny, but now that I think of it, there’s one glaring omission in our all-Americana scheme. We haven’t yet had one single hamburger. Time to remedy that!
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