Category Archives: Salads

Bunnies, chops, apology

I planted some of my morning glory seedlings under this planter. Two days ago, we discovered that the rabbits had eaten half of them. It’s not a loss I take lightly — hence the chicken wire.

Any morning glories that I planted in pots are now elevated. Others remain vulnerable.

Sometimes the rabbits’ destruction doesn’t appear to have anything to do with eating. The strewn plant matter gives the feel of a murder scene.

Stupid me. I didn’t put this geranium up on a side table after noticing the decapitation of a big blossom yesterday and this morning all the flowers were gone. Scattered about on the stone as if by a psycho killer.

After last summer when not a single iris bloomed, I’m happy to report there are flowers this year! Over by the black walnut tree too.

A new slaw recipe went well with pork chops and mashed potatoes last night. Toasted walnuts and crisp apples for variety.

These were thick chops, but I still could have overcooked them. It happens more than I care to admit. The magic method? Searing each side for two minutes stovetop, then sticking skillet in a hot oven (400 degrees) for 12 minutes. They were perfect. (Notably, I cut my chop up right away — had I let it rest as recommended it might have lost some juicy tenderness).

One sultry afternoon driving past the lake this week, I was flooded with the felt sense of Danny as a toddler. The days when “excavators” were “ekabators” and “snacks” were “nacks.” It wasn’t a memory per se, but rather a sensory experience of sharing the muggy heat and slight fear that sometimes preceded a thunderstorm. Holding him close.

One woman in our Parent Suicide Loss support group has been writing letters to her son for seven years. She has twenty notebooks full of them. I thought I’d give it a go and this week penned three letters to Danny. In the first two, every sentence began, “I’m sorry…”

rosemary, salad, and root veggies

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I’ve never managed to overwinter a rosemary plant, so I’ve been harvesting the branches for a week or so. Tonight it’s supposed to go down to 32, so I finished up this afternoon.

After drying the branches on parchment paper for a couple days, it’s easy to peel most of the herb off. I don’t worry about getting every single blade of rosemary off because I’ll throw the stalks into stock pots.

Today I made potato leek soup. Good for a raw, rainy day like today.

We’re at the point in our shopping cycle when we’re “eating down the fridge.” Like to see it get fairly empty before stocking up again. It becomes a little bit of a game

This salad from last week was good, unusual for us. Butternut, chic peas, and cauliflower gave it a hearty, main course feel. There’s feta cheese and lots of escarole too. Obviously I used the ingredient list below as inspiration but not gospel.

Here it is served with salmon, rice, leftover coleslaw and peas, but really the salad could’ve been the main course.

Also last week, I tried out a new recipe for a root veggie gratin. Parsnips, rutabaga, turnips, and potatoes mashed up and then baked with Gruyère, Parmesan and some cream. I didn’t really like it maybe because of the texture. A little ick. Unfortunately, we have a ton leftover.

The best part of making that dish, honestly, was the comical grocery store scene. “Charlie! What’s this?” (holding the bulb aloft). Charlie: “Rutabaga! Code ####.” “Charlie! What’s this?” “Turnip! Code ####.” Of course I was naming them too but Charlie could supply the codes.

I often buy vegetables the clerks can’t identify. Endive. Ancho peppers. Broccoli rabe. Not sure if that says more about me or them.

Radishes divine

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I might be weird for loving radishes as much as I do, but right now I’m obsessed with eating their crunchy goodness with just a splash of olive oil, a spritz of lemon juice, and salt and pepper.

I had an Italian/chef boyfriend once upon a time who would prep radishes the same way only simpler — with only olive oil and pepper — and I can tell you that they’re delicious that way too.

For some reason, the stripped down nature of this treat reminded me of a snack my Dad used to eat — a slice of white bread with mayonnaise and pepper. It was considered a real treat, especially if served with a small glass of buttermilk.

Gross, right? But then I remembered that as kids we’d enjoy cold hot dogs right out of the fridge (fully cooked, of course). Also gross.

My father was born at the beginning of the Depression. In 1929, in fact. I don’t know of anyone in my generation who would slug down buttermilk and go, “Ah.”

Here’s another memory — and I swear on my father’s grave that it’s true.

One year, I might have been six or seven, we were heading down the Taconic Parkway en route to visit family in Woodhaven, New York (which was either Brooklyn or Queens depending on the year of the map), when I began to smell something gross. I crinkled my nose. Was it coming from inside the car? Did anyone else smell it? No and no.

I tried to dismiss it. I’d learned early, I’m sad to say, not to trust myself — especially in the face of opposition. But as we crossed the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, the smell got stronger. I knew we were heading toward it, but still no one else could smell it. How baffling!

Finally, we arrived and spilled out of our Pontiac Tempest. Scrambled up the steps and into Nana’s narrow and dark brownstone. Whoa! Right there on the porch I was hit with the smell. It was moist and animal. Something cooking, then? I followed my father into the kitchen where he lifted the lid of a giant pot on the stove and inhaled with pleasure.

Pigs’ feet.

Pigs’ feet? A delicacy I guess.

I can’t remember if I sampled them or not. I can’t remember if I said a single thing about how off-putting I found the smell. Probably no to both. Given what a treat pigs’ feet were to my father’s family, I’m pretty sure no one would’ve minded me taking a pass.

Food share and the cold

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Zucchini fritters are one of my new favorite dishes. They’ve entered the rotation. It’s basically a pancake made delicious with feta and tons of scallions and garlic (and shredded zucchini, of course). Here served with crème fraiche and a tangily-dressed Romaine salad.

Also from Ripe Figs, here’s a spicy cabbage dish with roasted hazel nuts that I tried out this week.

I don’t know if it’s the Irish blood, but I generally have cabbage in the fridge, so it’s nice to have some alternatives to coleslaw or simpler sautées.

Another thing I’m big on these days is making my own croutons. Iron skillets are perfect for this task. Usually I only add garlic, S&P, and thyme, but oh how tasty they are! And they keep of course.

In my effort to cut down on meat consumption, I find adding a handful of cashews to a salad to be an easy way to add protein and hearty flavor.