She was not a friend friend but a friend of a friend. Most people call that an acquaintance. I call it an acquaintance with echo. I remember her being dashing but not ostentatious, with a welcoming smile and a sense of humor. She lived alone in the Upper East Side with no pets that I knew of.
My husband and I still make a salmon dish that she concocted and was transmitted from hand to hand, friend to friend, kitchen to kitchen, as if it were an ancient saga that travels orally through a whole community. It couldn’t be simpler: you marinate a salmon fillet overnight with: white wine, olive oil, soy sauce and honey in equal parts, 3 cloves of garlic, 1 minced sweet onion, ground pepper, and a dash of Worcestershire sauce. Before shoving it into a 400º oven for 22 minutes, you spread fresh dill on top of the fish. When passing this foolproof recipe to us, our friend friend baptized it “Jane Susan’s Fabulous Marinated Salmon.”
The last time we saw her was at a shiva service and she still looked radiant, wearing a bright ultramarine wool coat albeit a bit more fragile, accompanied by a cane. We saw her out, as her Über driver was approaching the sidewalk. I didn’t imagine I would see her again in the obituaries section of the New York Times some Sundays ago, the smile still vibrant. Her fabulous salmon will have a different taste now.
—Walking along the Hudson River Park, 4/18/2020