Or, as Billy Bragg would say, "don't try this at home."
(reposted from earlier in the year)
So Melissa is down in Portland to watch our property burn (it turns out that after you clear even a small portion of a 5-acre lot, you have LOTS of organic flammable material to dispose of before it becomes a real fire hazard). I, therefore, am out shopping by myself. She'll be back tonight on the train. I'm out at Costco bright and shiny to pick up a few essentials...when I spot it. WHOLE COPPER RIVER COHO SALMON $8.99/lb. Now how can I refuse this? The only issue is finding a way to use it all while it's still fresh: the smallest salmon is just under four pounds. Most of the friends we might normally call at short notice are otherwise occupied. Of course I buy one anyway.
On the way home, it occurs that I could make lox with half of it. That would leave a very managable two pounds for my lunch and then dinner for both of us. Sounds like a plan.
So I get home and open my trusty <i>Fish and Shellfish</i> by James Peterson. Go to index, find lox recipe. Looks like a cakewalk...hey, what's this on the next page? Hot-smoked salmon in the kitchen? Sounds great. Gotta try this. Just a little bit of fish to start with. If it works well, I can always do more.
So I need some hardwood sawdust, huh? Well, I've got hickory wood chips. And a food processor. Match made in heaven. Sounds perfectly reasonable, no? Works like a charm, other than the occasional piece of wood that gets stuck on the blade. Oh, and the brown colored gouges in the side of the bowl.
So I need a wok that's 6-inches deep? Well, my wok's not that deep, but I've got a stock pot I could use. I'll just put the steamer insert in, and the salmon will be a good 6 inches off the base of the pan, just like the recipe says. That ought to work, shouldn't it? Sure seems to.
I heat the pan up real hot, just like it says. It needs to hot enough to make the wood smoke. I throw the wood chips in, cover with foil. They start smoking right away. Serious smoke. Time to open the windows, that kind of smoke. OK, throw on the salmon and cover the pot. All goes well, seemingly.
Twenty minutes later, the salmon should be done. So I open up the lid (gag!) and cut the salmon with a knife. Sure enough, done. And the way that grease dripping flared up! Wow! OK, pull the pot off the burner. Hey, what's that? A puffed up bubble of melted foil? No, that would be on the inside of the pot, not on the stovetop. What else could it be? Hey, wait, isn't the bottom of the stockpot supposed to be, you know, attached? Why yes, I think it is. I'm rather sure it is, come to think of it. Then why is it hanging loose? The lid is even attached with some kind of metal alloy. Evidently an alloy with a low melting point. Maybe I should do something to remove this pool of said alloy from the top of my stove...but what?
As it turns out, a bamboo spatula is the perfect tool for removing pools of molten alloy from the top of your stove. Well, as long as the alloy has had a good head start at congealing.
I had assumed that the base of the stockpot was aluminum, or mostly aluminum. According to Wikipedia, the melting point of aluminum is 660 C. I wonder just what went in to that alloy? Maybe some tin; that;s way down at 232 C.
The salmon was top-notch. Maybe a little overdone. It seems I neglected to remove the salmon from the pot in a timely fashion, and the pot was still quite warm. Perhaps I was distracted from the task at hand.
Lunch, with grilled salmon and red burgundy, was fabulous. Even if it was occasionally punctuation by the sharp popping sound of the contractions of the cooling stock pot.
Cost of my smoked salmon:
Two-thirds of a pound of fresh Copper River coho: 5.99
Stockpot: 80.00
Melted pile of slag on the stove: priceless
