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Copper is still gold

Wasn't that long ago, matey, we'd be lucky to see any fresh salmon in Seattle. Bristol Bay had a huge sockeye fishery, the largest in the world, but the catch was frozen stiff before it made it to local markets. Now, we're spoiled silly, with fresh, wild salmon coming in from the mouths of rivers all along the Alaska coast: the Yukon, the Taku, the Stikine and, best of all, the Copper.

The folks at McCormick & Schmick are doing their darndest to promote the spring runs, enlisting an anthropomorphic "Wild Salmon" band (Sockeye Sam on vocals, King Karuthers on keyboard, Kenny Keta on bass, etc.), reminding diners about the health benefits of Omega-3 fatty acids and tweaking the twice-daily fresh sheet to highlight the runs.

At a media dinner this week, sous-chef Josh Westcott sent out a succession of delectable salmon dishes. A tartare made with Taku red and Stikine ivory was stunning (especially paired with a Willamette Valley Vineyards pinot gris). The highlight, though, was grilled Copper River atop plain risotto. Sure, the other salmon were wonderful, coming from recently reopened fisheries at the mouth of long, fast-running rivers. They might be cheaper, too, but that's not the point; we live close to the source, we pay for the privilege of first crack at the Coppers.

Executive chef Eric Naruszewicz, whose previous assignment was in Boston, singled out Paul Tourangeau's Koike Seafoods for supplying small batches of high-quality fish, no mean feat when demand is high and the P-I's substitute restaurant writer surveys local eateries serving overhyped, overpriced and, gulp, undercooked fish.

So as we head into the wild salmon season, let's pause and give thanks. Bless Jon Rowley, who first called Seattle's attention to the Copper River run. Bless the salmon, of course. And bless those who call it "center-of-the-plate protein," as long as they cook it right: till it flakes.

Puttin' on the poutine

Montreal and Seattle versions of poutine

When will they learn, those pretentious New Yawk snots? With the solemnity befitting the announcement of a cure for cancer, the NYTimes reports that three Gotham spots now serve Montreal's beloved junk food, poutine. Whazzat? Duh: french fries with cheese curds and gravy, dumbo.

In Australia, where Canadian eating habits aren't automatically ridiculed, they've eaten poutine for decades. Aluminum to-go containers are filled to the brim with hot, glorious gravy so the fries stay warm. Aussie-born Teressa Davis insisted on having poutine on the menu at Steelhead Diner, especially since her Market neighbor, Beecher's Cheese, provides fresh curds daily. "We're so avant garde that I can't even stand it," she says.