Yes, when I was a young, newly honed Jewess, I had the chutzpah to make a sign for a festive brunch I was serving that said just that: No Lox on the Bagels! Little did I know then that depriving the bagel of its “lox” is akin to denying a kid candy at a bar or bat mitzvah, or holding back the Manischewitz at a bris (circumcision). Ouch.
When my ex-husband and I were young, and he was opening his first tax-office, I was in charge of preparing the food for the open house. The proud Norwegian hostess with the mostest that I am, some chips in a bowl with salsa wasn’t going to do the trick. I planned carefully ahead and used the requisite 48 hours in advance of the event to cure my own gravlaks, the delicious dill cured salmon that is, of course, a million times fresher, tastier and less salty that its popularized cousin “lox” aka smoked salmon.
There was champagne, beer and Aquavit served, as well as homemade cakes and coffee. The gravlaks was elegantly presented on a platter, with dill and lemon wedges, and mustard dill sauce on the side in a small Norwegian pewter bowl we had gotten as a wedding gift just a year or two before. To go with the gravlaks was a cold potato salad and scrambled eggs. The bagels and cream cheese somehow ambushed the party. I don’t even remember how they got there. But there they were, and I had to do what the only responsible thing was to do. Defend the honor of the gravlaks.
Of course, my valiant efforts of culinary segregation and prohibitive signage (there was actually a sign with the photo of a bagel inside a red circle with a red line through it posted next to the gravlaks) became the running joke of the entire event, and the story that survived an otherwise uneventful morning of polite chit chat and comings and goings.
Since then, I have to admit, that as my confidence has increased in all matters of life, love and letting go, I too, occasionally, put gravlaks on a bagel, schmeared with cream cheese, topped with red onions and capers. And boy is it delicious.