On my way home from the beach the other day, I was trying to figure out the prefect evening meal to finish a day dozing in the sand. I was in a daze, just having emerged from the long afternoon sun and from under the gauzy blanket of ocean sounds: the waves, muffled gossip from girls on a nearby blanket, scattered birds, and children with their cries and plastic shovels.
Fish cakes, crab cakes, both remind me of beach vacations. Seashore restaurants, seafood take-outs, cold beer, tartar sauce, sun. It's not summer yet, and I know that back-painfully well; after shoveling the snow from our driveway yesterday, the car still got stuck, and later on we stacked a cord of firewood. But guess what I felt like eating in spite of all the ice and snow?