Fall of Summer Salad

The smell of familiar spices exploded out of the steam which poured out of the tea kettle in billowing white clouds. It settled neatly on top of the aroma of something crisp and buttery baking in the oven.

The wind rattled the windows. It was calling us to come out and play, but the couch was toasty and melted me back into the moment where everything is exactly as it should be.

I wiggled my toes inside my socks and breathed it all in.

Fall of Summer Salad
Dice 3 cucumbers, of mixed variety
mix with chopped basil

Creamy Umeboshi Plum Dressing
in a food processor, blend
1 clove garlic
2 Tbsp sesame tahini
2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 umeboshi plum (pit removed)
1/2 Tbsp white miso paste
2-3 Tbsp water
2 Tbsp grape seed oil

Christina's vote: "This salad was pure TLC"

Busy Day Salad

The day was long and filled with the sour alertness of an adrenaline rush. I arrived at work two and a half hours early. The building was dark, and I was able to walk through the empty hallways with earphones in my ears without watching where I was going. By the time my coworkers had arrived I was so engrossed in what I was doing that I hardly even noticed them. I almost missed my opportunity to go for an afternoon run, but finally, the job was finished and I looked up at the clock just in time to catch it.

My running partner, Dave, and I slipped on our five fingered running shoes and chatted our way through a 5 mile run. It felt good to leave the hospital behind, dart across the busy highway, and disappear into the shady woods. On our way back he asked me if I was busier than usual.
"Yes, I am incredibly busy. I have no idea how it happened, but all of the sudden I am completely swamped." I replied. As soon as I said them I was aware that the words fit perfectly, like spandex, and carried a similar uneasiness of vulnerability. I continued on, opening the door as I talked,
"I have also recently figured out that if I want to get any paperwork work done I have to go someplace other than work, because ironically, at work there are too many distractions."

The door swung closed behind me and I was face to face with a complete stranger who looked at me, then looked at Dave, and then launched into a long monologue about his favorite fitness instructor at the gym. My mind was reeling with what I needed to get done in the few remaining hours of the day, but my Connecticut upbringing did not supply me with a socially adequate escape plan from such a situation. Politely I smiled and nodded, ever so slightly backing away. He segued into his favorite weight watcher's recipes. Again I was trapped. I tried not to feel resentful. I tried to listen for some inspired message in his words, but my self absorption was too great, my patience spread too thin. My smile betrayed the irritation that was imprisoned by my cultural upbringing. There was no end in sight.

When at last I had a chance to speak, I lifted my hands to gesture and a giant drop of sweat flung off of my wrist and dropped onto the floor by the man's feet. With a horrified expression, he began to back away. I contemplated fighting to keep him interested in the conversation, as a matter of pride, but I resigned to my busy schedule and accepted my freedom and left.

Busy Day Salad
slice heirloom tomatoes
top with fresh basil, a sprinkle of salt, and sliced provolone cheese. Drizzle with olive oil. Serve

Christina's vote: "This salad made me want to lick the plate"

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!"

Lunch in Rowayton Salad

My feet had toughened to the gritty sidewalk, but once in awhile a pebble dug in to my blackened soles. It reminded me to appreciate the nakedness that my feet were allowed to enjoy in the final days of summer. School was closing in fast. Fall would be wasted sitting at the window, guarded from the leaves as they fought for their survival on the lonely trees outside. At least there was soccer practice, and the basketball net in the driveway, and the warm smell of leaves to heat the chill in the air that was to come.

I tried to put fall out of my head, but the temperature dial of the wind had turned just a tad cooler, the humidity had lifted, and stores had begun stocking pencils and notebooks. Signs of autumn were everywhere. My cousin Faraday and I were walking from the harbor to Rowayton Pizza for a "little John" sandwich. Our over-sized T shirts concealed our ocean drenched bathing suits, and our ponytails were twisted into corkscrews. Salty wisps of hair stuck to my cheeks, and the sun flooded my vision. The cars on the road were overfilled with teenagers and played loud summer tunes as they whizzed by.

We stopped in Rowayton deli to say hello to Simon and Shawn, two boys that came from different families but looked like identical twins. They each had gone from skinny bean poles to broad-shouldered, wide-necked, muscular, bouncer-looking types at about the same time. The way they worked together reinforced the illusion that they were brothers, and although they were both blue-eyed with sandy blond hair they reminded me of young Italian boys in a mafia film.

Those were the days before our crimes were serious, before school took precedence, and before relationships got complicated. I can feel them on these late summer days as I dig my feet into the gravel and feel the pebbles dig into my blackened soles.

Lunch in Rowayton Salad
Heat 2 Tbsp hazelnut infused olive oil in a frying pan. Add 1 split chicken breast (with both pieces still attached so that it looks like a heart). Shake the pan right away so that the chicken doesn't stick. Add a little salt and 2 sprigs of rosemary for aroma. Brown on both sides, reduce heat and add 1 clove minced garlic. Cook until no longer pink on the inside.

In a bowl, mix together
3 celery stalks, diced
1/2 small red onion, diced
2 Tbsp mayonnaise
1 heaping tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp worchestershire sauce
1 tsp tarragon
salt and pepper to taste
add the chicken, cut into bite sized pieces

Spread some purple cabbage and sliced carrots on a platter. Top with chicken salad.

Christina's vote: "This salad made me throw away my rubber chicken"

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"

"Release the Hostages" Salad

This morning I woke up and ran 13 miles before breakfast. Normally, some inspiration will come and visit me on this sort of adventure in the form of a story, a problem that requires some attention, a physical struggle that I have to push through, or a peaceful meditation. This morning I experienced none of these things.

It wasn't a totally unpleasant run, the weather was absolutely perfect and the people in the streets were smiling and waving in friendliness at each other. However, it seemed that my mind had been kidnapped by Insecurity and Fear, which had left behind a sort of emptiness that threatens. I imagine that the pasted together ransom notes would be brightly colored with letters irregular in size cut from magazine titles. The construction paper that they were pasted on would be sticky, with streaks of glue outlining the paper cut-outs.

"WE hAvE yR SELF COnFiDEncE" the letter would say "AnD SErEniTy".

The letter would continue with a bunch of promises coming from Fear that I can have my self confidence back once I become perfect at my job, convince everyone to love me (by any means necessary), and earn a small fortune.

I was devising a scheme for how I was going to fulfill the demands of my insecurities as I was driving past Starbucks this morning. I was too self absorbed to notice who was sitting in the chairs out front as I drove by, but my ears were hooked by the sound of my name, which entered through the open passenger side window.
"Emily" the voice said.

Knowing that I was about to be rescued, I immediately pulled over and parked. It was Richard. I hadn't seen him in ages, but he was hanging out as usual in front of the coffee shop. He gave me a big hug when I got out of the car and I felt embarrassed at the thought that he might have noticed the scowl on my face as I had driven by.

After about 10 minutes of unloading scattered thoughts Richard had heard enough to know that I might be at some sort of crossroads and needed some spiritual guidance that was beyond his human capabilities.

"Want some sage" Richard said, not quiet interrupting me, but rather nudging into a string of words that I was constructing to fill space. I got quiet.

"Yes" I replied, and I felt strangely relieved. Richard is Native American and he had recently attended a Sun Dance ritual where he had acquired a large stash of sage. At that moment he had happened to be carrying it around with him in his car. He brought out a bundle and we set a piece of it in the ashtray on the table and lit the ends. I poured the smoke over me using my hands, the way I had been taught when working for the Dream of Wild Health organization, and instantly I felt my chest open and my breath lighten.
"Thanks Richard" I said feeling like I had just been released from hostage.

"Release the Hostages" Salad
2 cucumbers, peeled and diced
2 Roma tomatoes (San marzanos are best)
1 small bunch arugula
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
salt and pepper to taste
1 cup cooked kashi
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
The juice and zest of 1/2 meyer lemon (optional)

Christina's vote: "This salad was engaging"

Arugula and Sweet Corn Salad

With our crates and boxes and mixing bowls we were attempting to assemble the outdoor demo kitchen, but the wind had other plans. It blew hard against the back of the tent, causing the metal legs to slide against the asphalt in the farmers market parking lot. A few vendors, the community service workers, the manager of the farmers market, and even a few customers rushed over to help baton down the billowing white sides. I was reminded of those moments on the ship during extreme weather, when everyone would drop their assigned duties and focus their efforts on survival. We resigned to unzipping the sides, and allowing the wind to scamper through, forgiving the stolen cilantro that was picked up and tossed across the parking lot.

The realization that the people whom I am now working with have the same tradition of community, hard work, and the ability to set themselves aside to help with issues when they arise made me giddy. This is what I loved about the ship. It feels like I have found an identical community among the farmers. There is a common understanding that the health and happiness of each individual is imperative to the health of the whole.

Last night we went to the circus. It was mainly high school and college age kids performing, but they were accomplishing incredible feats with almost as much professionalism and poise as the performers of cirque du soleil. What impressed me the most about the show was not witnessing a 7 year old boy stand on his hands on top of a stack of chairs 20 feet high. It wasn't watching a man be carried across a tightrope on a chair balanced on top of another tight rope, or witnessing a girl swinging through the air like a pendulum, holding herself up by the back of her neck. It was the level of trust that the kids had in one another. Every time one kid lept from one trapeze to another, he knew that another kid would be there, reaching out his arms to catch him. It was the very picture of the world I have experienced at the farmers market, and on the ships. It is amazing how regular people are able to accomplish impossible feats when they understand the importance of being there to back each other up.

Arugula and Sweet Corn Salad
1 small bunch arugula, chopped
2 ears mirai corn, cut off the cob
1 yellow pepper, diced
1/2 cup sprouts
1 medium tomato

Dress with:
juice from 1 lime
1/2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
1/2 Tbsp white wine vinegar
2 Tbsp olive oil
pepper and salt to taste
1 tsp brown sugar
1/4 small red onion, cut small

Christina's vote: "Tangy goodness"