Scent of a Woman

One of the things I’ve begun to incorporate into my diet lately is salmon. This is a huge deal for me because sometime back when I was still a tender young age, I stopped liking fish in almost any form. The only water-bound creatures I’d regularly consume were shrimp, prawns, abalone, and canned tuna. Once in a blue moon I’d have fish sticks. And once a year I’d have the salmon at the annual Salmon Barbecue. But that was it. There was no way you could convince me to consume fish otherwise. I wasn’t having it.

But high cholesterol finally prevailed and of course salmon is one of those foods that are excellent for keeping your heart health. Goddammit. And so I picked up some salmon steaks and decided I’d give it a go. I mean, the salmon at the barbecue every year wasn’t vile. Sure, I had a bit of really fishy-tasting salmon about ten years ago from the Fish Market restaurant on Pier 39, but even professional chefs can be idiots and serve old fish. So why not give it a go?

Sure enough, it’s turned out to be great. I love it! I found a nice recipe for a ginger glaze that I lightly brush over the top, and I serve it with rice and veggies, and I’m all healthy and shit. Hell yeah, look at me go with my omega-3’s! And even more impressive is how fancy I look at work when I unpack my lunchbox and allow my coworkers to behold the amazing piece of fish I so artfully arranged on its bed of rice, some green onions snipped over the top. FANCY.

The problem: I’ve now become one of those assholes. You know…the ones who heat up fish in the break room microwave. Salmon may not taste fishy, but holy shit does it not smell all that terriffic while it’s cooking, and it sure as hell doesn’t smell any better the next day upon reheating. I don’t even know what to do about the smell other than to hurry in, get my heat on, and hurry out before anyone finds out it’s me. The other day I realized I’d forgotten my bottle of water in the break room fridge and had to go back to get it, just in time to hear two guys commenting on how much the break room smelled like a dirty vagina. One of them nodded and said “Yeah, that’s the scent of a woman alright.” The other one chuckled appreciatively.

I had to then go back to my desk and try to eat my lunch with that description running through my head. I was a little less delighted with my salmon that day.