Salmon Red Flannel Hash

Posted on January 16, 2007
Filed Under Politics, River Notes, Uncategorized |

I’m reduced to writing about what I cook for dinner because if I think about the profound & ongoing crisis in American society & politics, I just want to cry. For the moment, at least, I still like to eat. Red flannel hash is hash with beats in it. Last night I made salmon cakes: You take a 15 ounce can of pink salmon, dump it in a bowl, add a cup or so of Panko breadcrumbs, a teaspoon of papirika, several grinds of black pepper, a half cup of finely chopped onions, & two eggs. Form into cakes about three inches across by 3/4 of an inch thick (I use a big spoon to shape them), then fry in butter. Serve on a bed of chopped lettuce drizzled with vinaigrette. But back to the hash. The recipe for salmon cakes makes about eight cakes; we ate four last night. Carole has been agitating for red flannel hash of late, which is traditionally made with beef (I think). When I’ve made hash in the past it has usually been with left over turkey since we don’t eat a lot of beef except for steaks in the summer. (I’ve never made has out of an entire country like George W. Bush, either.) Right, back to the hash. I had four left over salmon cakes & Carole has mentiuoned red flannel hash, oh, I don’t know, probably twenty times in our twenty years together. I’m certain that is above the national average, or the statistical norm or whatever. She really likes beets, which I’m not so hot on. Bring on the beets, I said. I make hash browns — or home fries — all the time, so I just treated the beets like potatoes: diced them & put them in the microwave for about five minutes, then into a hot frying pan with a bit of olive oil, add the onions, some diced potato, also nuked for about five or six minutes, several grinds of black pepper, then cooked on medium heat until everything is browned & the beets & potatoes are completely cooked. Then I broke the salmon cakes into the mixture, stirred & cooked until heated through. We at the hash with a fried egg each (over medium) & some toast from bread I made last weekend. Big, thick slices. I wish I could write about politics as well as Juan Cole or about food as well as M.F.K. Fisher, but I can’t. I don’t have the depth of knowledge or the skill with language. But in these times I can hold up the pleasures of the kitchen against the encroaching insanity of my country. But even writing that last sentence forces me to imagine the bloody hell that our insanity has visited upon Iraqis. I’m afraid that the pleasures of the kitchen won’t do them much fucking good at the moment. While I was teaching at my university today, blood ran on the street outside Mustansiriya University in Baghdad. I have no idea what that would be like. When you peel beets & wash them off, it looks like blood in the sink, except not so thick.