She Was Only a Fishmonger's Daughter...

Or: Getting my Gravlax on.

Still Life with Salmon, Lemon, and three Vessels by Luis Egidio Meléndez, 1772

I was at a complete loss this morning as to how I should title this post. The goal of a title or headline, so I gather, is to write something intriguing—almost mysterious— and yet germane to the topic at hand, which this week happens to be gravlax. No amount of punning would satisfy, so I just decided on the opening line of a risqué English couplet instead.

Go ahead and look it up. I’ll wait.

And my stratagem must have worked because, well, here you are.

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I grew up without a Nordic auntie to my name. I have never to my knowledge slept with a Swede nor worked under a Norwegian. I’ve never even been to Scandinavia, so precisely how and where I learned to make gravlax is a mystery that remains unsolved to this very day.