Last Tuesday Jo and I celebrated our 42nd wedding anniversary by dining out, something we rarely do, as we are both good cooks. Jo says, "Why dine out when we can usually cook better food for ourselves in our own kitchen?"

Still, it was our anniversary, so we dined out.

It brought to mind a piece I wrote in 1993 when we celebrated our 21st anniversary by dining at Louisa's, one of the best restaurants in the delightful Atlantic resort town of Cape May, NJ. It's a tiny place, only a few tables. No sign outside indicates the restaurant. Louisa’s survives on word-of-mouth because the food is superb.

My piece Dinner at Louisa's pays homage to Louisa and her establishment. It is also intended to evoke the image of the two of us, a loving couple, represented by the cello and piano, quietly, happily conversing over dinner at Louisa’s. This is not the soaring romantic music of young love; this is the music of a lasting contentment.

Jo is a remarkable woman, the love of my life, a deeply caring mother to our two children and my partner in our publishing ventures. That last may sound impressive but the fact is, it’s her dog care business that has caulked the seams of our financial boat; that's what keeps us afloat. As Sean Connery's character in The Man Who Would Be King says, "She's not just a wife! She's a going concern!"

To hear cellist Carl Donakowksi and pianist Adrienne Kim play Dinner at Louisa’s, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH
July 27, 2014

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No need to reply to these ‘e-pistles’ I send. I love writing them; it helps me feel that I am in touch with friends.

Some of you reply sometimes and I love that, too:

-- “Your missives lift me up in sad times, reminding me of the existence of decency and kindness in the world.”

-- “Your emails are like visits to Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood for grown-ups.”

-- "Your mpFrees are like little inspirational biscuits (as funny as that may sound) for me."

Inspirational biscuits! That makes me smile. I love the ordinariness of 'biscuits.' Not rainbows or mountaintops or sunsets or galaxies. Just biscuits. But, mark this, not your everyday, quotidian, humdrum biscuits. No! Inspirational biscuits. I love it!

Too, it reminds me of Carl Sandburg’s wonderful line: “Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” Read that line outloud. It’s good clearn fun, just to make those sounds, to be mindful of the tip of your tongue touching the edge of your upper front teeth. That’s a sound that is unknown in French or German which is why our friends, the Frogs and Krauts, when they speak English, say “zee” instead of “the.”

Speaking of inspirational biscuits (?) yesterday Jo and I celebrated our 48th wedding anniversary. I had a big bouquet of flowers delivered and prepared one of her favorite dishes: salmon cakes with lemon-capers-yogurt sauce. I’ll include the recipe at the bottom of this message. As for Jo, she made a cobbler with fresh Georgia peaches, served warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

In normal times, we might dine out, which brings to mind a piece I wrote in 1993 when we celebrated our 21st anniversary at “Louisa's,” one of the best restaurants in the delightful Atlantic resort town of Cape May, NJ. Louisa's a tiny place, only a few tables. No sign outside indicates the restaurant within. Louisa’s survives on word-of-mouth because the food is superb.

My piece, Dinner at Louisa's, pays homage to Louisa’s and evokes the image of the two of us, represented by the cello and piano, quietly, happily conversing over dinner at Louisa’s. This is not soaring romantic music; this is the music of a lasting contentment.

Jo is a remarkable woman, the love of my life, a deeply caring mother to our two children, my partner in many adventures and my best friend.

To hear cellist Carl Donakowksi and pianist Adrienne Kim play Dinner at Louisa’s, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

Salmon cakes
Salmon:
• 1 pound salmon fillet
• Olive oil, for drizzling
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Patties:
• 1 large egg, beaten
• 1/3 cup (1/2-ounce) chopped fresh chives
• 26 saltine crackers, crushed, divided
• 1/2 cup frozen corn, thawed
• 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
• 3 tablespoons mayonnaise, or more, as needed
• 1 tablespoon capers, rinsed, drained and chopped
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon lemon zest
• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
Sauce:
• 1/2 cup full-fat plain Greek yogurt
• 1 1/2 tablespoons capers, rinsed, drained and chopped
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon lemon zest
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Directions
Salmon: Put a grill pan over medium-high heat. Drizzle the salmon with olive oil and season with salt and pepper, to taste. Grill until the flesh is cooked through and flakes easily with a fork, about 6 to 8 minutes on each side. Or bake it in the oven at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes. Then remove the skin (it will be crisp and easily pulled away) and set aside to cool.

Patties: Flake the salmon into 1/2-inch pieces and put into a medium bowl. Add the egg, chives, 1/2 of the crushed crackers, the corn, mustard, mayonnaise, capers, lemon juice, and lemon zest. Mix gently until just combined. Form the mixture into 2 1/2-inch diameter patties, about 3/4 inches thick. (If the mixture is too dry to form into patties, add extra mayonnaise.) Carefully coat the patties in the remaining crushed crackers and refrigerate for at least an hour. In a large skillet, heat the oil and butter over medium heat. Add the patties and cook until golden and crispy, about 7 to 8 minutes each side. Drain on paper towels.

Sauce: In a small bowl, mix together the yogurt, capers, lemon juice, and lemon zest. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.

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Fifty years ago, this coming Friday, Jo and I were married in Bellville, Ohio at 7:30 in the morning on the front porch of the home in which she had grown up. Fifty years!

I was 22, she was 21. She was a beautiful bride and wore yellow roses in her long, wheat-colored hair.

Friday night, we’re going “out for dinner,” something we rarely do, at the National Exemplar, a nearby restaurant. Cooking at home is an agreeable pastime. The food is tasty. The menu planning, grocery shopping, even the clean-up are satisfying in their way.

Still, it’s our anniversary, so we’re dining out. Later this summer our daughter is coming to visit for a weekend and we’ll go out again, with our son along as well, this time to a really fancy restaurant, one of Cincinnati’s finest. The two of them split the cost of a big fat gift certificate to underwrite the celebration.

Our dining out together is described in a tender piece I wrote in 1993 when we celebrated our 21st anniversary by dining at “Louisa's,” one of the best restaurants in the delightful Atlantic resort town of Cape May, NJ. It's a tiny place, only a few tables. No sign outside indicates the restaurant within. “Louisa’s” thrives on word-of-mouth alone; the food is superb.

My piece Dinner at Louisa's evokes an image of Jo and myself, a loving husband and wife, represented by the cello and piano, quietly, happily conversing over dinner at Louisa’s. This is not soaring romantic music; this is the music of a lasting contentment.

Jo is a deeply caring mother to our two children and my partner in all things. She is the one love of my life; high school sweethearts, we are the only real boyfriend / girlfriend each of us ever had. We came out of the same milieu; our maternal grandfathers were close friends. Both families highly valued music, learning and dogs. We shared the same world view, the same politics, right from the start. My best friend pressed me to ask her out. We’re still close; he and his wife will join us later this summer for a celebratory dinner here at home.

Jo and I spend a great deal of time together, more now, in our seventies, than ever before. I would guess that we ‘bug’ each other about a third of the time. Another good friend says, “Only a THIRD of the time? That’s GREAT!” Ha, ha. He’s right!

I read the phrase “good complexity” in a description of a fine wine. It applies equally well to a good marriage, of which ours is one.

To hear cellist Carl Donakowksi and pianist Adrienne Kim play Dinner at Louisa’s, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.