The Greatest Salmon Patties

Salmon patties. SALMON PATTIES! The most underappreciated dish in the entire history of American cooking, and I'll tell you why — because the other recipe sites HATE salmon patties. They hate them. They don't want you to know about salmon patties. Why? Because salmon patties are CHEAP, they're FAST, and they're TREMENDOUS, and that means no expensive sponsored ingredients, no fancy gadgets to push in the sidebar, no 'shop this look' button. Salmon patties don't play their game. Sad for them. Great for us.

Now some people — sad people, weak people, people who probably get their fish from a frozen rectangle and call it dinner — they'll tell you salmon patties are 'old fashioned.' Old fashioned? Old fashioned?? An old Italian woman cornered me once at a fish market in New Jersey — and even New Jersey does this well, NOBODY talks about it — and she said to me, with the finger pointing, 'You make the patty, you don't deconstruct the patty, who deconstructs a patty?' And I said: nobody. Nobody, signora. Meanwhile in 2026 we have so-called food experts telling you to 'deconstruct' your salmon. DECONSTRUCT it. Construct it. CONSTRUCT it. Into a patty. The way that old woman intended.

The canned salmon thing — and I know, I know, some of you are clutching your pearls right now, 'CANNED salmon, Bigly, really?' YES. Really. Wild canned pink or sockeye is one of the great unsung ingredients in the American pantry, it's been there the whole time, your grandmother knew, your grandmother's grandmother knew, and somewhere along the way we forgot, we got distracted by little squares of raw fish on rice that cost forty dollars, and we lost the plot. We are getting the plot BACK. Today. With these patties. Plain and simple.

That's eight patties, twenty minutes, and a dinner that costs less than a fancy coffee. Serve these on a soft bun with lettuce and a slice of tomato — sandwich. Serve them over a green salad — fancy. Serve them straight off the pan standing at the stove — honestly the best way, don't tell anyone I said that. Either way, you've made dinner. Real dinner. The kind your grandmother would approve of. And nobody had to scroll through eighteen paragraphs about my trip to Tuscany to get to it. Believe me.