Lunch in Shark Harbor

When I get hungry I don't like to think.

I don't want to plan, scheme, clean, or focus. I want to eat.
When cooking for guests, I begin far before I am hungry. Or else I eat ingredients before they hit the pan, and I never enjoy the final product.










After breakfast, and a morning spent laying on the beach reading magazines, my friends weren't very hungry. I almost ate a can of salmon alone, without decoration. That would be feeding, not feasting. This camping trip was planned in part as a food adventure, and it just seemed wrong to gorge when I had such a spectacular field kitchen, and so much time. Graduate school would start as soon as I reached the mainland. Forcing myself to relax, I agreed to wait a few minutes while I dressed up my salmon.

Green onion chive, clove of garlic, minced.
Tossed in the skillet used the night before
(veggies and braughtworst, no sauces).
Left over a fire for a while.
Served on a cracker.

A good snack. Very healthy. Felt more like a meal. Good for camping; no utensils.







Alex had some salmon too, and suddenly we declared it lunch time. I inventoried the bread products and settled on an english muffin. Originally I had a salmon melt in mind, but I had to eat the salmon. No patience.

Placated with protein, I waited for three thin slices of gouda to relax themselves onto my toasting english muffin. The driftwood fire I built was still strong, and we had plenty of store-bought pine for the evening. At the very end I added a couple leaves of spinach and one of Alex's cherry tomatoes.

This might be my favorite new lunch, even when I'm off the sand.

Emily, carefully pondering her quesadilla, stands in the background.