Winter Fish Therapy

One of the most frequently asked questions Alaskans get when traveling in the Lower 48 (after, “Do you worry about those poor Kilchers getting enough to eat?”) is, “How do you cope with the long dark winters?”

I’m sure there are as many different answers as there are kinds of Alaskans. For those who enjoy bundling up and wallowing around in snow (and there are many who do), winter is a time for skiing, snowshoeing, and snowmachining. For others, the remedy is to migrate someplace with palm trees and pelicans. But for me and my wife, our best method for maintaining sanity through the gray, wet winters of Homer requires neither warm clothing nor passports: We cook. And most importantly, whenever we get a chance, we cook for friends.

On top of ordinary small dinner gatherings with another couple or two, we are always looking for excuses to invite a hungry throng. Homer presents us with many opportunities. The launch of a friend’s book is a favorite reason to invite a gaggle of writers and readers. There are the big traditional holidays, of course, but none deserves a party more than winter solstice and the promise of longer days. And every so often, my wife’s book club presents a chance to cook for ten food-loving women. What man can resist that?

Given my own near-phobic resistance to eating in restaurants (don’t get me started), we cook pretty much seven days a week anyway, but nothing makes us happier than having friends over for dinner. I’m retired and home most days. My wife goes off to work in the morning, the cat goes back to bed, and I start thinking about dinner. A more organized person might plan a day or two in advance, but how would I know what I feel like eating for dinner on any given day until I get up that morning? So, planning for weekend dinner company (or even better, a party!) brings a touch of healthy order to my life.

I come from working-class parents and peasant ancestors. My meals tend to be plebian entrées like pasta dishes, risottos, or braised lamb shanks. Of course, Alaskan seafood plays a big part in dinner party menus. Alongside the fish I can catch myself (salmon, rockfish, halibut, lingcod), an abundance of local oysters, shrimp, prawns, and scallops keeps the menu varied enough to avoid redundant meals for repeat guests. Because the larger parties tend to start fairly late, the menus for those lean toward finger foods and anything that can be made in advance. Much of this, of course, is simply store bought and requires no actual hands-on work (cheeses, olives, antipasto, etc). But one favorite combines local fish and a little culinary fussing, and never fails to wow guests of every kind. Salmon carpaccio. Our idea of winter fish therapy.

I’ve been making this dish since I first saw an article about it in the Anchorage Daily News possibly 20 years ago or more. It was a story about two Sardinian brothers living in Anchorage who adapted a Mediterranean recipe by substituting local salmon. The raw, thinly sliced fillets are “cooked” in a citrus juice marinade, similar to the way ceviche is prepared. The original article written by the late T.C. Mitchell suggested sockeye, but here in Homer, we are lucky enough to catch “feeder” king salmon all winter, and the fatty chinook flesh is even better for this dish. The gorgeous salmon flesh topped with red pepper flakes, and yellow lemon and green lime zest becomes a colorful guest magnet. With appreciative partiers parked next to it reaching for helping after helping, it can create the kind of traffic problem any amateur cook is happy to have in his own kitchen.

Darkness may lean on the windows, but watching friends eat your food is like sunlight therapy, and an almost perfect antidote to the winter blues.