I Dare You Salad

"Most people will never know what that tastes like raw" Christina commented over my shoulder as I sliced through the side of a patty pan squash.
"What do you mean? They are good raw!" I replied, defensively.
"I know that" She said, stealing a slice of squash from under my knife and popping it into her mouth "but a lot of people don't".

Christina puts things into perspective for me. I forget how strange and intimidating vegetables can be when they are unfamiliar. They trigger a primal fear, and I forget that as animals we are meant to be wary of new foods lest we poison ourselves on unfamiliar berries. Eating new foods requires a sense of adventure. Like kids, we need our friends to dare us, and double dare us, and triple dog dare us to laugh down our fears and boldly walk down the dark path of the unknown.

A flash of lightning blazed up the rain streaked windows. The water trailed down in perfectly chiseled lines and it looked as though the windows had been sliced with a knife. I stood in the kitchen, laughing maniacally as a slice celery greens and patty pan squash, and mixed up a witches brew of plum vinegar dressing. I dare you to try it.

I Dare You Salad
3 small patty pan squash, cut into small pieces
4 long thin carrots, peeled and sliced
1 medium cucumber, extremely fresh so that it snaps
1/4 cup celery greens

Creamy Plum Vinegar Dressing:
3/4 cup yogurt
3 cloves spicy garlic
1 umeboshi plum, mashed (these are a type of salty, preserved plums which can be found at the asian grocery store)
1/2 tsp ume plum vinegar
lots of black pepper

Christina's vote: "Ha ha, ate it all!"

Breakfast Bacon Potato Salad

I woke up, still lost in a dream and floating in a rainstorm of sizzling bacon. Thick steam weighed down the air like a jungle thunderstorm, and the sound of popping grease was similar to water bouncing off of rocks and leaves. The smell was like a warm wool sweater, comforting, nurturing, delicious.

I sat in my confusion while sensation returned to my fingers and toes, and I became aware of the light weight of the blankets on top of me. They were scratchy, and the comforter was machine stitched and thin, like a hotel bed cover. This was not my bedroom. Whose was it?

The carpet on the floor was light tan and shaggy, and covered in stains that were made by some other child. The walls were dark wood, with knots that could be mistaken for shapes which gnashed their teeth like wolves, or formed pointy hats like gnomes. There was an old cartoon map of a ski mountain hanging on the wall. I focused on the drawing for awhile, and then slowly added together the pieces.

I was a kid, on vacation, in Vermont.

Most likely the sound I was hearing was not a jungle rainstorm, as the window emitted a frozen blue glow in the early morning light. I pulled on my long winter ski socks, which hugged my calves tightly and forced my little legs into sticks. Then I shuffled into the breakfast room, where the entire family was already busy developing pink cheeks and full round bellies.

"There you are!" my mother said "we have been calling you for an hour."
"um.. was it..raining a minute ago?" The entire family looked at me as though I were crazy.
"no, it is below freeing outside. Are you feeling okay?" "Just checking!" I said, as I dragged a strip of bacon onto a plate and sat down to breakfast.

Breakfast Bacon Potato Salad
Cube 3 medium Yukon gold potatoes (leave the skins on) and add them to a pot of water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cook until tender.

In a separate pot, bring water to a boil and blanch broccoli (cook until bright green, then plunge in cold water)

Cook bacon in the microwave, between paper towels

In a salad bowl, mix together 1 small, diced, yellow onion, 1/4 cup cubed cheddar cheese, the bacon (crumbled)

When the potatoes are tender, drain them and mix together with drained broccoli. Heat 4 Tbsp grape seed or olive oil. Turn off the heat and add 2 cloves of garlic and a pinch of salt. Add 2 Tbsp white wine vinegar and pour over the potatoes. Adjust seasonings to your liking.

Christina's vote: "Puts grandma's potato salad to shame. sorry grandma."

Try Tatsoi Salad

I like to think of myself as being pretty well versed in vegetables, particularly in the members of the brassica family. One of the more of the brassicas, broccoli, was my favorite vegetable as a child. My mother would steam it until it was bright forest green and then serve it to me with a little dollop of mayonnaise. My brother, who is one year my senior, didn't want anything to do with the texture of mayonnaise, and would prefer starvation over having to taste anything that wasn't white, brown, or orange. He would recoil in horror at the display of green and white that I would excitedly shovel onto my fork.

The praise that I earned for eating my vegetables was encouraging, but it was not my sole reason for getting excited about them. I know this because I would often trade foods with my brother when my parents weren't looking, sliding my chicken breast onto his plate and taking his asparagus or cauliflower. When it came to broccoli, I almost always favored those bright green little trees over everything else on my plate.

Like many young people, my mind was opened to new experiences in college, the more appropriate of which can be discussed in this blog and includes a long list of brassica vegetables. I prided myself on my familiarity with some of the more obscure varieties, and would smile inwardly when I had the opportunity to introduce someone to something new. When, at the farmers market, I wandered by a booth and noticed a shiny little bunch of unfamiliar leaves sitting decoratively in little metal tubs in a section market 'brassica', I took notice.

"umm..what's this?" I asked out of the side of my mouth, pretending to convey embarrassment.
"That's tatsoi, you have never had it before?" the vendor asked.
"I knew that" I said, in the tone of an eight year old, "I just wanted to see if you knew" the vendor laughed. "It's kind of a buttery, peppery, type green, with a spinach-like texture." My mind conjured up flavors of spinach, which I often to find to be boring, and I slowly began to back away.
"it's kind of like arugula" she added, and I snapped forward like a yo yo and dug out a dollar from my bag. "Sold!" I said, snatching up the tatsoi and handing her the dollar.

The flavor of tatsoi is just as the vendor described. It is grassy and mild, with a buttery texture and a black peppery finish. It has less of a bite than arugula, and a more smooth mouth feel. Delicious!

Try Tatsoi Salad
1 small bunch tatsoi
3 small fresh carrots, sliced
1 medium cucumber, peeled and diced
1 small heirloom red tomato, sliced into wedges
1 small heirloom yellow, sliced into wedges

Dress with:
3 Tbsp toasted sesame oil
1 1/2 Tbsp rice vinegar
1 tsp soy sauce
1 tsp dark honey
grated fresh ginger (if you have it around, I didn't have any when I made this, but I imagine it would fit well)

Christina's vote: "This salad made me want to yell at the cheese curd vendors 'what is wrong with you people!'"

Fit Perspective Salad

My eyes were blurry, as though I were looking through Vaseline smeared lenses. I arrived at the lab at 5:30. Under the microscope of the lab’s stillness I became aware that the weeks worth of mild sleep deprivation was beginning to affect me, altering my state of consciousness. It took four hours for me to complete what should have been a two hour experiment. In frustration, I left the lab and went to stand by the window in hallway, too tired to be upset. I brought an apple a packet of peanut butter with me so that I could have some breakfast.

It was 9:30, and already I had accomplished a half a day’s worth of work. I looked out of the window. The lot was oddly sparse. I wondered if people were taking off work to go to the state fair, or maybe just to enjoy the final days of summer. With the promise of a warm weekend ahead, who could blame them?

When I looked back toward the corridor, a woman was walking briskly toward me, her gaze locked on me. I saw myself through her eyes: a tired, young looking woman with a long brown ponytail, eating peanut butter off of her fingers and wearing a long white lab coat. She looked at me as though she were going to say something, but she didn’t slow her pace as she approached. The wall dead ended behind me, and for a moment I thought that the woman was going to walk right into me, but she swiftly u-turned as though rounding an imaginary cone, and tossed me a cheerful “good morning” as she sped away.

That’s when I noticed that the woman had paired sneakers with her skirt suit, and that her calves were oddly muscular for her size. She was a power walker. I am not sure why, but I found the encounter oddly comforting. In a world where we are supposed to hate our jobs, look forward to retirement, and daydream about the weekend, it is nice to see people making themselves comfortable at work.

The woman made me realize that I had been making myself into a victim. I had begun sliding into a pattern of trying to fulfill imaginary expectations, and chase the illusion of an end which would justify all of these means. How easily I demonize the vulnerable ones who try to offer advice, inventing them as great punishers who are out to spoil my fun.

One day I will look back at all my battles and realize that I was alone in the ring, as both the champion and the opponent, sometimes winning sometimes losing, but always playing to the crowd.

Fit Perspective Salad
3 small peppers, fresh, diced
8 Heirloom cherry tomatoes mainly yellow and orange
1 small cucumber, peeled and diced
2-3 cups frisee
4 diced green onions

Dress with:
2 Tbsp lime juice
3 Tbsp grape seed oil
3/4 Tbsp raw honey
1/4 tsp ume plum vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
2 cloves minced garlic

Christina's vote: "A mighty taste"
Everett's vote: "The freshest tasting salad I have had the pleasure of enjoying. Mmmm"

Pasta Train Salad

I wondered if I would ever fit in, but after awhile it seemed that the people sitting around the table saw something familiar in me that I had overlooked in the mirror. At first the stares were just a little too long, the heads tilted to the side a little too far, and I had the uneasy awareness that I was being closely scrutinized. Was I imagining things?

The topic jumped from one thing to the next, with pauses like train cars that I hesitated too long to catch. I was intimidated. I couldn't catch my groove. My thoughts were panting, running full speed, striding to keep pace, but the desire to collapse was looming like a dark cloud in a Parisian winter.

My mind wandered to this place. I thought about walking along the cobblestone streets by the river under a cold dark sky. The river climbed toward the city streets, and then, there it was again. The train. The smooth red sides and shiny gold wheels charged steadily along. I stopped and watched as it rippled gently in the wake of a passing river boat. I raised my head to catch it in the glass windows of the boat, and noticed that the train was now still. I turned to search for the engine, which, according to its reflection was positioned directly behind me. When I turned my head I saw that nothing was there.

Pasta Train Salad
Cook 3 cups rice pasta
Heat another pot of water and blanch:
1 small head cauliflower,
2 large carrots, diced
1 large zucchini, diced
when the pasta is done cooking, drain the water and rinse with cold water. Do the same with the vegetables. Mix together and add
4 Tbsp olive oil
1 tsp lemon pepper
2 Tbsp cider vinegar
1 tsp brown sugar
1/2 tsp ume plum vinegar
1 Tbsp tarragon
1 clove fresh minced garlic
1/2 red onion, diced
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil

Christina's vote: "This salad made me go toot toot!"

Lion's World Salad

A small yellow glow radiated from the square, red glass on the table. The flame in the center swayed it's hips from side to side, creating shadows that stretched long and lean on the papered walls and then crouched back inward. The shadowy creatures were tethered to the world inside the golden dome. I was careful not to stray too far from the light, fearful that the protective globe surrounding us would shatter and the cold, dark night would seep in.

Before the dusk had fallen on that day, I had made the decision to toss aside the meaning of time and cleared my schedule for an endless night. The waiter came and I watched as you played a friendly game of catch with his smile.

You hardly glanced at your menu. I studied mine as though it were a movie listing, and imagined each cast of flavors before deciding what kind of experience I wanted to enjoy. The waiter brought you a plate of shrimp smothered in a red sauce and you shrieked when you noticed the heads were still attached. Tears welled up. Our eyes were pushed shut by enormous grins as we roared with laughter. As we laughed, the whole expansive room disappeared. The golden light took over, and in that moment I felt completely safe.

Lion's World Salad
8-10 small red potatoes, diced with the skin on
1 head broccoli, picked into bite sized pieces
3 cloves spicy garlic
salt
1/2 cup diced mustard greens
1/2 red onion, diced
4 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
pepper
1/2 tsp ume plum vinegar

Cook potatoes in boiling water for about 25 min. Remove from heat, drain and cool.
Heat about 2 Tbsp water and add broccoli and a pinch of salt. Allow broccoli to steam until bright green (about 4 min). Drain any extra water and add 2 Tbsp olive oil and garlic. Heat broccoli for an additional 2 min. Remove from heat and cool. Pour over potatoes. Add remaining oil, vinegars, mustard greens, onions and black pepper.

Christina's vote: "This salad was bold"

Fresh and Local Salad

There is one statement that always seems to leave me feeling totally stumped in the kitchen. It goes something like this:

"Make a list of ingredients for me and I will go shopping so that you can cook dinner."

A list? Where do I begin? There are too many options, and every one of them involves taking a giant risk. What if I say to get eggplant, but the eggplants are all soft and brown at the store?
At this point I usually try to convince the person that I would be happy to cook dinner with whatever they have in their kitchen.

In my opinion, preparation is a very small part of what makes food delicious. When I make something that turns out tasty, it is generally because the ingredients grown are tasty to begin with. Cooking is not a solo activity, but a cooperation between the cook, the gardener, and the creator of the vegetables (Nature, God, the Sun, or whatever you believe generates the spark of life). When asked to generate a list, it is like saying "do this by yourself" or "do this with your eyes closed". The task seems daunting.

There are other reasons that I prefer not to cook from recipes. When using a recipe, every time a meal needs to be prepared new ingredients need to be purchased. Cooking with what you have means that the carrots in your crisper get used instead of piled on top of.

We had very little in our refrigerator today, but I had some cauliflower left over from my farmers market demo, and some beans from my CSA (Webster Farm Organic). I had some basil and carrots grown by Dehn's Farm and some fresh purple garlic from one of the Hmong growers.

Fresh and Local Salad
In a pot of boiling water, blanch
1 small head cauliflower
2 cups assorted cut fresh snap beans
after about 4 min, remove from the burner and drain veggies. Rinse with cold water to stop the cooking, then drain and set in a bowl.
While the pan is still hot, add 3 Tbsp olive oil, a pinch salt and 3 cloves minced garlic. Pour over the veggies. Mix in 2 medium carrots, diced and 3/4 cup chopped basil.

Dress with:
2 Tbsp red wine vinegar,
1 Tbsp olive oil,
1 tsp brown sugar,
1/2 tsp ume plum vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

Christina's vote: "This salad made me want to repel down the side of a building"

It's about time for more salad

"Hello, I'd like to speak with Annie please."
"Yeah. Hang on a moment. ANNIEEEE" The woman's voice was blase with a hint of crabby. It was not at all what I would expect from the mother of a responsible high school girl scout, especially one who was mature enough to organize a health and nutrition day for her troop. I peered around the pristine church basement. The face of my cell phone was glued to my ear, causing my cheek to burn and my ear to sweat.
"Hello?" said the young voice.
"Hi Annie, I am here. Where is the group?" The heavy grocery bag pulled at my left shoulder and cut into my hand. I set it on the ground, balancing it against my leg to prevent the long green carrot tops that were bursting out of the top from tipping the whole bag over. I could hear the low drone of the pastors voice whispering through the cracks of the room where a Sunday service was taking place. The thought dawned on me that it was a little strange for a group of girl scouts would be meeting in a church on a Sunday for a workshop, but having never been a girl scout, I wouldn't know how these things work.
"Um, actually it was yesterday." She said.
"What!!!??! But your email said the 20th. That's today! I am here today!"
"Yeeeah, we didn't know where you were. Sorry. I didn't email you last night. I meant to."
I had driven through traffic. I had been to three grocery stores. I had been planning for days, researching the origins of different foods. I was going to do a mindfulness exercise with them. We were going to taste-test organic and conventional apples, ethylene vs high tunnel tomatoes, whole carrots vs baby carrots, and foods with hidden salt. I walked out of the church and into my car with the mixed bag of desirable and undesirable goods and emotions.

There is something about a cow pasture that makes me forget that cars are for getting from one place to another. The sky was gathering puffs of cloud, and knitting them into one large white blanket. The streets were flawed with evenly spaced bumps that gave my wheels a rhythmic industrial clank, like the sound of pistons pumping. I thought about machinery, and imagined the robotic arms picking unripe tomatoes on an industrial farm, sending them down a conveyor belt to be gas ripened with ethylene. I imagined the crates being loaded into a truck, tossed and stacked like mail. I took out one of the bright pink tomatoes and brought it up to my nose. Nothing. It felt greasy in my hands. This is the tomato we have come to know. I took out the other tomato from the farmers market, grown in a high tunnel. It felt soft in my hand. It never would have survived a robotic arm, or being packed, stacked, and thrown around in a crate. It was hand picked, and delivered to me at the farmers market. I know because I met the man who picked it.

A large clang jolted me as my wheel skipped over a hole in the road, and I came into the realization that I was driving aimlessly. The heat was steaming the fragrances out of the strawberries sitting in the passenger seat. I felt bad about missing the girl scouts, but recognized how good it felt to have the intention of going. I pulled over to the side of the road and got out my phone, opened up the text window, and sent a message to Christina.
"I think it's time for another round of 90 salads" I wrote.
Her message came back instantly.
"finally"

Strawberry rosemary balsamic vinaigrette
1 1/2 cups small sweet strawberries
1 1/2 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp honey
1 tsp mustard powder
pinch salt
tsp pepper
2 Tbsp grape seed oil
1/2 tsp chopped fresh rosemary
2 tsp white wine vinegar
Blend together the strawberries and balsamic, and transfer into a small saucepan. Heat for 4 min over med/high heat. Remove from heat and add remaining ingredients.

Salad
mixed baby greens with 1 cup arugula and 1/2 cup cilantro
1 cup sugar snap peas or snow peas
1 cup diced purple cabbage
1 cup strawberries for garnish
1 cup dry roasted almonds
Garnish with goat brie if desired

Christina's vote: "Don't see how it could get better than this, but I am sure it will."