Once in a great while, I come across a spectacular dish that needs little tinkering because it’s already perfectly healthy and incredibly easy like Swedish Gravlax with Mustard Dill Sauce.
Not the same as the smoked salmon you’d find in a grocery store, but similar to traditional lox you sometimes find in a kosher deli, gravlax is “cold-cured” in salt and sugar. But with the additional seasonings of fresh dill and Aquavit (a Scandinavian alcohol flavored with caraway and other herbs and spices), it has a uniquely delicious taste that somehow makes it more “special” than any deli breakfast food. (That hint of “specialness” may also be because a gravlax appetizer in a restaurant like Marcus Samuelsson’s Aquavit in New York will run you 20 bucks…)
So when in Stockholm for the husband’s “Jack Reacher” premier in December, I was thrilled to see gravlax (or gravad lox) show up at every meal.
I have a large collection of both vintage and current cookbooks with many favorites, but my heart skips a beat when I come across one of those local PTA, Church Auxiliary, American Legion, Junior League or Private Club cookbooks - usually in a spiral binding! Heaven! Where else can one find so many venerable variations on the great American cheese ball, guacamole, bean and sour cream dip, or anything made with dried onion soup mix – Laugh! (Ha-Ha) but the best comfort food in the world comes from these unpretentious, homey books!
I know it doesn't look like much, but looks are often deceiving. 
Years ago when I was a round nugget of a child running around in terry-cloth shorts I had a book I read to myself many times over. It involved some Amphibian or Owl With Shoes who lived inside a mushroom or hollow tree. I can’t remember much of the story but the one thing that stuck in my brain was that on many occasions this anthropomorphic critter would find himself without food or drink and would simply chop an onion or think about sad things in order to create his own version of tear tea. I remember being disgusted by the thought of sipping one’s own saline tears but that didn’t freak me out as much as the things he’d think about to coax the tears out of his eyes and into the kettle.