A frustrating restaurant shift leads me to Alon’s in Dunwoody, craving an Asian Salmon Sandwich and Edmame Salad, the sweetness of dripping teriyaki sauce over tender chilled salmon filet, the salty soy vinaigrette over bitter greens and plump young soybeans.
For an hour and a half, I lose myself in these flavors, burn my frustration with a cold, pale golden glass of organic Gewürtztraminer.
I have a slightly guilty conscience about the glass of Gewürtz; I’m heading back to the restaurant for the night shift and I’ve never once indulged in alcohol between a double. But it is delicious….
Grapefruit on my tongue and the bitterness of pith meld with a slightly-sweet finish that lingers and smooths into rich velvet. Another sip and the sparkling effervescence pricks my tongue, cool and zippy; I forget the guilt, forget the job.
The sandwich demands my attention, ripples of focaccia shimmering with olive oil, perfect dimples of tenderness that I know from my last experience of this sandwich (while driving at 65 mph down I-285 in my father’s manual Ford truck) pair irresistibly with cucumber, sprouts, salmon and sesame teriyaki.
I take a bite and the sweet sauce immediately drips over my fingers; the flavors overwhelm me. Through spongy-soft rosemary-flecked bread and chilled, medium-rare poached salmon, my teeth break the tender-crisp cucumber shaved clean of its skin and meet again after piercing the second layer of luscious Italian bread clearly baked fresh today.
I am ravenous: I want to devour the entire sandwich all at once, to savor every bite infinitely.
I hate being ravenous, hate being consumed by lust for anything; my eyes find the plastic container of Edmame salad. I lick the cool sauce thoroughly from my fingertips, peel the plastic lid from the salad.
A forkful of spicy arugula and gorgeous, bitter magenta-and-white-striped radicchio, wilted in the dripping brown liqueur of soy and rice wine vinegar awakens my senses, and somehow a slick, tender edmame pops between my teeth, fresh and sweet. I love the texture of edmame: it’s ethereal in its perfect smoothness, I’d expect it to crack brittlely between my molars instead of popping apart and sinking, sponge-like, between my jaws’ gradual pressure. I’m quickly addicted to the refreshing bite of this dish; I crave the richly nutritious lettuces and beans and forget all about the Gewürtz… though not quite the luscious oily-sweet sandwich that yet beckons.
On principle, and for the sake of curiosity, I pause from the salad to sip the Gewürtz, deliberately avoiding the temptation of that focaccia-lined pile. And blink in surprise; the German white cleanses even this healthy freshness from my palate, demands attention in its own right with fresh citrus and mellowing lees as the liquid slowly warms to cellar temperature. My interest is piqued by its growing complexity; I wonder if it will show more mineral notes as it warms, as my favorite Niagara Gewürtztraminer does.
I sit with the white for a while, sipping and rolling the now-creamy liquid on my tongue, sucking it into my cheeks, amazed at the slick drying effect it has on my teeth and gums. Suddenly, I’m slightly embarrassed at the awareness of others in the vicinity, businessmen scattered around at nearby tables who, I’m afraid, may be picking up on my sensual experience. One more sip and I feel my cheeks flush with the effects of alcohol and of my mind.
I’m conflicted now, my eyes flicking between sandwich and salad, knowing that either will be a delight….
I pick up the remaining part of this half of the sandwich, sink my teeth into it dutifully, reluctantly – I need the protein, I know – and reel from the mixture of flavors flooding my palate again. I’m in it, now; I simply take bite after bite, not pausing to savor each individual component, not taking time to relish in the play of textures upon one another – and still, the perfection of mid-rare salmon brushing against teeth and tongue sends rushes of satisfaction through me, the delicate sesame flavors rise, the crunch of cucumber tickles the corners of my mind wondrously at the brilliance of this incredible meal.
There is love in this sandwich, surely; and not just my own. To create something so lovely, so delightful to so many aspects of human enjoyment is a feat, even if it is sold so casually as in this corner-artisan-bakery and gourmet food shoppe.
I find a small brown box and tuck inside the remaining, untouched half of my Asian Salmon Sandwich, perfectly preserved for later enjoyment; press the round plastic back onto the last forkfuls of Edmame Salad. And sip the last ounce or so of this tart Oregan-made Gewürtz that is the first clean wine I’ve had outside of my favorite winery’s selection.
I’m impressed, satisfied, warm and elated; it’s back to work I go.
With a smile, teriyaki and Gewürtztraminer on my lips.
Oceans of Mine 