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Taste Greg Atkinson

Simply Salmon

In summer, the livin' is easy with a spontaneous gathering and a grill

The phone rings and I run inside, pulling off my dirt-caked garden gloves to pick it up.

"What are you doing?" our friend Kayla wants to know. Kayla grew up with my wife, Betsy; when they get together they are girls again. And just like Betsy and I, Kayla and her husband, Michael, have two school-age sons. So we jump at any chance to get together and share rare moments like these.

What are we ever doing on a sunny afternoon in June? The summer solstice makes these afternoons seem impossibly, luxuriously long. We're mowing the lawn, weeding a flower bed, thinning the rhubarb and thinking about pie. "Oh, I don't know," I admit dreamily, "yard work."

"Well we were thinking you guys should come join us at Mom and Dad's house; we're going to take a walk around the point and grill some salmon."

Kayla's parents live on the south end of Bainbridge Island in a grand old place built in the 1930s by some Norwegian craftsmen who found themselves far from home and eager for work. Hundreds of hours of craftsmanship went into the sod roof with its English daisies, the greenhouse-like dining room with its indoor Concord grapevine, and the rosemaling work of distinctive swirling decorative paint that outlines every handcrafted room.

But even better than the house is its enchanted setting. Restoration Point juts into Puget Sound like the bow of some great ocean liner, commanding a view of Seattle like no other. Mount Rainier spreads its foothills to the south, and, on a clear day, Mount Baker lifts its chin and does a little pas de deux with Rainier. Wild Nootka roses line the paths to the beach, and a saltwater swimming pool perched above the rocky shore beckons to those inclined to take a quick, cool dip.

There is nowhere in the world we'd rather be. So we round up the boys, throw a loaf of French bread and a bottle of wine in the car, and we're off. Then we're lost in time. Someone looks at a watch and no one can believe it's after eight. Every year, when the summer solstice rolls around and the sun starts bearing down on the Tropic of Cancer, it's as if it never happened before.

For a moment or two, preparations for the casual supper take on an air of urgency. The salmon goes on the grill, the greens get sautéed, a rhubarb crisp appears. Grilled salmon doesn't need much in the way of accompaniments, so I don't worry about preparing rice or potatoes. For the boys who always crave extra carbs, we pass the loaf of warm French bread at the table.

Then, before we know it, the light is fading into one of those Maxfield Parrish-colored skies. Stars begin to shine, and in the fir trees, owls call one another to the hunt. The years seem to fly by, and though they were mere boys when we arrived a few hours ago, our sons are suddenly young men, and though we were young when the evening began, we are middle-aged folks by the time the sun goes down; the dawn of summer has come and gone.

"Time is a jet plane," wrote Bob Dylan. "It moves too fast." I'm sure he wrote that line on an evening in June.

Greg Atkinson is author of "West Coast Cooking." He can be reached at greg@northwestessentials.com. Barry Wong is a Seattle-based freelance photographer. He can be reached at studio@barrywongphoto.com.

Grilled Salmon

on a Bed of Mustard Greens

Serves 4

Heating mustard seeds causes them to pop like popcorn, so beware when they are added to the hot oil. As soon as the greens are added, the popping stops. Like spinach, mustard cooks down considerably, so what looks like a large amount is actually just enough.

For the Mustard Greens

1 large bunch of mustard greens, about 1 pound

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon whole brown mustard seeds

1 teaspoon kosher salt

For the Salmon

6 (6-ounce) fillets of wild king salmon

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons light olive oil or corn oil

1. Rinse the mustard greens and shake off the water. Arrange the leaves in a neat stack and roll it into a bundle. Lay the bundle on your cutting board and cut across the bundle with a rocking motion of the knife to make thin strips like ribbons, what French cooks call a "chiffonade." Put the cut greens near the stove to be sautéed just before the salmon is ready to serve.

2. Grill the salmon. Wipe the grill with a cloth dipped in olive oil, or spray it with an oil mister. Position the grill at least 4 inches above a bed of glowing coals. Sprinkle the fillets with salt and pepper and rub with oil. Place the fillets, skinned-side up, onto the rack and grill until dark brown marks are established, about 5 minutes. If the oil ignites, cool the flames with a little water splashed from a cup or streamed from a squirt gun. With a long spatula, turn the fillets once and grill until the fish is just cooked through, for a total of about 10 minutes per inch of thickness, or about 5 minutes more for 1-inch-thick filets.

3. After the salmon has been turned, sauté the greens. Put the oil in a sauté pan over medium-high heat. When the oil is smoking hot, add the mustard seeds. They will start to pop. Immediately add the cut mustard greens and the popping will settle down. Move the greens around the pan with tongs and sprinkle them with salt. As soon as the mustard greens are wilted and heated through, distribute them evenly between four plates. Arrange the grilled salmon fillets on top of the sautéed mustard greens and serve at once.

Greg Atkinson, 2007

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