Salmon filets covered every empty surface, some were even draped on newspaper across the back of a couch. We smoked the fish on Gail's front porch in a row of Little Chief home fish smokers borrowed from the neighbors, dumping store bought hickory chips into electric hot plates. Gail left Haines suddenly the following summer and never came back. On a dark January afternoon, I'll probably open a pint of this summer's Sockeye for an after school snack. And I'll think about Gail, Linnus and long summer days .
Good salmon is preserved with more than brine and smoke .
It's sweetened with the laughter, and salted with the tears, of Alaskan women who have smoked fish together every summer since time began. If you'd like to contact Heather to share your thoughts about her work, please send an email message .