Oven-Fried Smoked Salmon Croquettes

My mother had her own way of doing things. On New Year’s Eve, the former Miss Greenwich Village of 1928 (she was disqualified when it was learned that she was only fourteen) would dust golden glitter over her red hair and Vaseline-glossed brows. No Donna Reed at home either, there she potchkehed the mundane into the marvelous. She painstakingly sewed green and bronze sequins all over our Davy Crockett T-shirts; she painted our names in Revlon’s Coral Vanilla nail polish on tin lunch