Mmmm, lox

Good Monday morning. 

Well, good is relative. You probably had a better Sunday morning. Particularly if that included a meaty Sunday newspaper, a cup of fresh Joe and a toasted Everything Bagel with schmear, sliced red onion, some capers and a healthy helping of beautiful lox.

Years ago, probably on my birthday or perhaps Father's Day, I took advantage of my daughter's new driver's license and sent her to pick bagels and lox at our favorite Jewery (sp). She came back with a dozen assorted bagels. And instead of a 1/4 pound of lox, she had a huge plastic tub of a 4 lbs. of Morty's finest. 4 people /4 pounds, it made sense to a teenager who had never had a class in home economics but could go on at length about the oppressive patriarchy.

A pound of lox can you set you back a bit. This stuff is not inexpensive.

But like the price of DJT stock, it's coming down. Way down. And you will thank me for it later.

Recently I was in Sierra Madre, hardly the heartland of Southern California's Hebraic Community. The place is teeming with inordinately attractive, and polite, white people. There's not an aquiline nose in sight. I think you get the Wistaria-adorned picture. 

You can then imagine my surprise when a local coffee shop (Syndicate) served me up their signature Oslo sandwich ...

It was, and I apologize for getting all dramatic, as if I had died and went to heaven. You know, if Jews believed in that kind of stuff. 

Frankly I have no interest in spending eternity wearing a robe, listening to violins and rubbing elbows with perpetually cheerful folks who don't know how to kvetch once in a while.

From what I understand, there's no kvetching in heaven. There's not even kvelling, because what's the point of kvelling if you can't rub your good fortune in someone else's face. They frown on that in heaven. Or so I'm told.

I seem to have got distracted. Anyway, the Oslo Sandwich was so good I asked the manager where he got his lox.

"CostCo. Seriously. We buy a good filet of Atlantic Salmon, bring it back to Syndicate and cure it and hand slice it ourself."

Adding, "It's really easy to do."

My frugal-conscious Jewish/Scottish mind was blown. 

The very next day, I had a consult with Chef Internet and found several methods of home curing your own lox. And guess what, it worked. Moreover, it was delicious. My father, a DIY'er who made his own furniture, built his own a sauna, and had plans to assemble his own Chris Craft sailboat, would have been beaming with pride.

"Your son is a doctor, pfffft, mine makes his own lox."

It's been 72 hours of curing and salting and more curing, and my second attempt is even better than the first. 

I read an article today about a 60 year old man who got laid off from his job and dove into his passion for chocolatiering. He and his partner, packed up their bags, moved to Spain and are now very successful ex-pats, peddling a panoply of chocolate varieties to the Spaniards. 

If this next election doesn't return this country to sanity, perhaps I'll take my newfound fondness for salmon curing to the Iberian Peninsula. 

Buenos Diaz, señores y señoritas, quieres un Lox y Bagel?