May
23
2008
As you are reading this I am in Pennsylvania breaking the first leg of our journey. My mother in-law is taking every opportunity to take me shopping and to stuff us full of wonderful Lithuanian foods. It’s a nice rest between packing up and before the other 2,735 miles of our 2,934 mile Westhampton Beach, NY to Seattle, WA, my new old home. Not to worry, I will be back and posting all about life in Seattle by Friday the 13th of June and I can’t wait to share with you all of the reasons I love the Pacific Northwest. For now I would like to focus on the place I have lived for the last four years, Westhampton Beach and so I leave you with this letter.
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May
16
2008
Sorry for the random photo of my dishes! The movers come on Monday and my house has been turned upside down, inside out and may possibly have been hit by a small centralized hurricane. I have made this recipe a thousand times before, but I just couldn’t find time this week. When I am all settled in Seattle I promise to post a picture.
On to what we are really here for, my Smoked Salmon Potato Salad.
As Memorial Day grows ever closer many of you will be dusting off your barbecue or possibly attending the first parties of the season. This could present a bit of a problem as I imagine that several of you will be in need of a really fabulous side dish. This year forget the sketchy glop that passes for potato salad at the grocery store and give my Smoked Salmon Potato Salad a try.
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May
09
2008
Sitting down to an over-sized bowl filled with crunchy vegetables, paper thin beef, rice noodles and creamy tofu all swimming in hot fragrant broth is one of those simple things that just puts a smile on my face. I was first introduced to pho (pronounced fuh) nine years ago by my co-worker Eliz. Each day Eliz would bring in a small vat of pho from the Vietnamese restaurant down the street and each day I would watch him as he gleefully and rather comically ate his pho, all the while wondering what was the big deal. At that time I didn’t really get how amazing simplicity in cuisine truly was and figured that unless it came in the form of a napoleon, vol au vent or needed to be set on fire it probably wasn’t worth my time. Thankfully curiosity trumped my youthful snobbery (some may say ignorance), and one day I asked Eliz for a taste of his pho bo. I still remember how spicy, tangy and full bodied that first taste was and how I knew that he would be splitting the rest of the container with me.
While Phil and I were apartment hunting in April we had dinner with my sister at an amazing Vietnamese restaurant in Federal Way*. I love walking into an ethnic restaurant and not hearing a stitch of English, it seems to signify that something really delicious is in store. The restaurant was full of Vietnamese families gathering for dinner, doing homework and sharing their day; it felt as if we were entering someone’s private dining room. We were served a lovely pot of jasmine tea, ordered fresh spring rolls with an amazing sesame coconut sauce, potstickers, bun cha and my beloved pho. I blissfully munched, sipped and slurped my meal, only coming up for air long enough to help my sister hone her chopstick skills**. This lesson did not go unnoticed by an elderly woman at the next table who took great delight in mimicking my movements and openly laughing at us. Slightly mean old lady aside, this was one of the best meals I have had in a long time. Hot, simple and delicious.
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