Recently, I was invited to a small party. It was at a typical apartment in a college town, a house that had been sub-divided, all sharing a front door. Paint was peeling off the door jamb, and the remnants of stickers from some forgotten band, no doubt a favorite of the previous tenants, were stuck to the front windows. The door was answered, hugs exchanged, then our host led us out back. “I know it’s a little cold, but we’re taking advantage of the weather while we still can. Grab a blanket if you want one.”

The e-vite had read, “Bring a dessert, we’ll supply the wine!” I placed my pie on the table, next to the brownies supplied by one guest, a chocolate fiend no doubt, and the figs supplied by a health nut, and then I sat back down to enjoy the backyard. The house may have been typical, but the backyard was not. Overgrown, but in an English garden sort of way, brambles grew next to tomato plants. There was a trickily pond off in the corner, and the centerpiece of the garden was a gazebo covered in grape vines unfurling their leaves. Twinkling lights wound through the vines, giving off an attractive light, making my pie which had baked unevenly look toasty brown all over.

Conversation flowed, as did the wine and the Slivovitz, a distilled plum liquor supplied by our host. But as I stood under the arbor, I just could not stop thinking about all of those grape leaves, barely beginning to turn the colors of autumn. Bolstered in confidence from a few sips of the Slivovitz, I hatched a plan: pluck, pluck, tear, pluck. “What are you doing?” asked Brian, as he watched me snatching grape leaves from the vines.

“I can’t let all of these beautiful leaves just go. There has got to be something I can do with them,” I proclaimed stuffing untarnished leaves into my pockets. I circled the gazebo continuing the hunt for leaves that had yet to be marred by the fall season, and remained supple enough to play with. By the end of the evening, I went home with the burning feeling of Slivovitz in my esophagus, and my pockets full of grape leaves. I put the grape leaves in the fridge until I figured out what to do with them.

The following day, a stack of leaves now placed on my desk, many Google searches, and far too many dolmas recipes to count, it seemed I was on my own as to what I would make from my leaves. I didn’t have enough to make piles of dolmas, but what about wrapping these leaves around something else altogether. Like salmon…

So that was what I did. I blanched my fresh grape leaves for a few minutes in some boiling, salted water, to make them more malleable. I then wrapped the leaves around some salmon filets, seasoned just with salt, pepper, and a bit of olive oil. After wrapping, I then seasoned the leaves with salt and pepper, and gave the newly wrapped filets another glug of olive oil. I then popped them in a 425 degree oven for 12 minutes. (I don’t like my salmon well-done.)

This dish was simple to the extreme, but had that special, homemade quality due to the grape leaves. When baked, the leaves became crisp, almost like a Mediterranean nori. The salmon was moist and flavorful, tinged with the flavor from the leaves. Of course, I’m not sure how practical of a recipe this is for Nosheteria. I’m not sure how many of you have access to a grape arbor, or even one measly vine, but if you do, I strongly suggest you go plucking before the season is gone.