7:09 p.m. - 2003-04-01
Salmon
I grew up in a tiny town in New Hampshire. A town of 600 people which, more often than not, was buried under six feet of snow. Buried for days, sometimes with no heat or electricity.
Sounds fun, huh?
For this reason, I have come to take disaster planning quite seriously. Yes, folks, I do have duct tape and plastic. Not because of the ridiculous idea that Huntspatch could undergo a bioterrorist attack, but because we face a serious risk of blown out windows if a tornado goes through.
Well, actually we face a risk of the whole house spinning off to Oz if a tornado goes through, but I try not to think about that.
I also have bits and pieces of a first aid kit, photos of all our animals in case I have to go door to door looking for them, blankets and small pillows, basic tools, cat carriers, a big plastic storage box to put the bunnies in, towels, toilet paper, a camp stove, safety goggles (safety goggles?), drinking water and water to flush the toilets which I store in old detergent bottles.
I also have a weeks supply of food for everybody. For Bruce and I, I've followed my mother's advice - put aside some canned things that you like, sort of, but you aren't so crazy about them that you'll want to eat them right up. For me, this means canned salmon.
I was in the grocery store one day and I happened upon a huge display of canned salmon. The labels on the cans were a retro aqua blue, with dark blue and pink lettering. Very 50's! I remembered eating salmon as a kid, probably in a snowstorm with the power out, and I thought, "Whoa Lil' Doggies!! That's what I need in my disaster kit!! A can of salmon!" Into the cart it went.
When I got it home I put it in the bottom of the can closet, and promptly forgot about it. Until tonight. Bruce and I let the food run down because we were eating out so much when Helen was here, and all I could conjure up for dinner was mashed potatoes and gravy and black eyed peas. Usually I'd make a baked tofu thing that Bruce likes, but there was not a cake of tofu in sight. No tempeh, either. Seitan? No, sir!!
I went through every single item of food we have. How about mashed potatoes and popcorn? Mashed potatoes and spaghetti noodles with no sauce? Mashed potatoes and confectionery sugar? Mashed potatoes and food colouring?
Then I saw it. At the bottom of the can closet, its retro '50's label calling to me! The salmon!!
I was so excited. Of course, this wasn't a disaster, but really, what disaster would actually be mitigated by one can of salmon? It would be perfect with the mashed potatoes and black eyed peas!
You know, I had forgotten what canned salmon is actually like. I had this vague memory of it as being like tuna, only pink. Boy, when I opened that can I was in for a rude awakening.
My first thought was that they had just jammed the whole entire fish in there. There was this vertebrae at the very top, and what was obviously skin. When I plopped it out into the bowl, I felt, quite seriously, that I was going to have to make a quick trip to the lady's room clutching my stomach.
Bruce, of course, was enthralled. "Oh, yeah, there's the little vertebrae!! Look at 'em, all lined up! And there's the red muscle and white muscle masses!"
I so love being married to a biologist. I seem to remember having dinner at Gregg's house once, when he embarrased me by dissecting a squid on her stove.
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