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!'"

Saturday Cooks Salad

The breeze was stiff, and cleared the air of humidity. It blew in across the table where I stood in front of Mr. Kelley of 'Mrs. Kelly's teas', and like smelling salts for the spirit, it brought my senses to life.

Mr Kelley noticed it too, and in mid-sentence he leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper
"it couldn't be a more beautiful day could it?" he stated. I smiled and breathed in the air, reminded of the days when I practically lived every moment exposed to the wind.
"Yeah" I replied, noticing how the crisp blue sky sparkled off of everyone's eyes, "it is beautiful".

I continued on to the demo tent, and discovered that today's chef had already arrived. Bill Roehl, aka the Minnesota pepper king, was sitting at one of the square, black, metal, four-top tables. He had a notebook in hand and a Grateful Dead patch on his hat. He had dark brown eyes and a trim beard, and looked like the sort of person who might have at one time been a shaggier, more dreadlocked version of his former self. Currently, he is a family man with a carrier type job at a University, and a blog where he reports on happenings in local politics. He is a fellow east coaster, and we spent our first few moments chatting about possible connections we might have back in our home towns.

I shopped with Bill, making sure to introduce him to the vendors that might have the ingredients he would be interested in. I almost felt guilty about how much time I was spending chatting with him and the vendors about food, but as my boss walked by she bestowed an encouraging grin, and I realized that what I was doing was actually a part of my job description.

I love my job at the market.

The pepper king was nervous, hence the early arrival, but his performance was exceptional. He had an Emeril like presence in front of the crowd. He pulled them in with the smells of garlic, Italian sausage, and the hazy heat of peppers sizzling. Then he kept them entertained with personal anecdotes and a glimmer of joy. I stood a little off to the right, tending to the contents of two giant frying pans as though I were spinning records. The frying pans were about half the size of me. I lifted them with both hands, tossing the contents into the air and catching them back in the pan. Cooking in front of an audience is exciting, it's like playing a concert. The crowd and the chefs feed off of each other. Local chefs often come to watch these Saturday demos on the days when they are not presenting. The market seems culturally fertile, like a place where a culinary movement might sprout. In any case, we have fun with each other.

I made this salad with the chefs from today in mind.

Saturday Cooks Salad
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 ronde de Nice, diced raw
1/4 cup cubed provolone cheese (optional)
1 small bunch thyme

Dress with:
3 Tbsp hazelnut infused olive oil
1 1/2 Tbsp cider vinegar
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp tamari soy sauce
2 Tsp buckwheat honey (or dark brown honey)

Christina's vote: "Incredulous"

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"

A Worker Among Workers Salad

I walked slowly down the hallway, my eyes swollen and red from too many late nights and early mornings. Fitting in the time to assemble somewhat of a balanced life in grad school has presented a challenge in itself, and one that I am starting to actually enjoy.

At 5 am the world is all mine, and I run through the empty streets exploring familiar territory with new eyes. When the sky lifts its dark blue veil I am reminded that I share this planet with other people, people who have ideas about what I need to be doing and exactly what time I need to be doing it. Interacting with them is a game of when to assert and when to gracefully submit, when to lead and when to be led.

At 5 PM I stand on the top floor of the building where I work and watch as the people pour out like ants. Their badges swing from side to side and their shoulders sag under the weight of their shoulder bags. In the corridor on the way back to my apartment I am dropped back into my world as the dusk folds down.

I turn the handle and am flooded with music. Jesse is rocking vigorously back and forth, waving his arms in pure joy and smiling from ear to ear. Christina is standing in the living room assembling new desk chairs for us. She dances around, and I can't tell if she is more excited about the project of assembling chairs or the fact that we now have them.

The cats are playing like crazy, due to the arrival of several large empty brown boxes. They dive from one box to the next, occasionally chasing each other onto one of the old desk chairs and sending it flying across the hard wood floors. They ride with pinned back ears and wide eyes, digging their claws into the leather and holding tight as though embarking on a sleigh ride. The office door has been left open and they chase each other back and forth across the entryway, celebrating the freedom to pass through the forbidden territory.

A cameo appearance from Catherine and Everett comes just as my hands are putting the finishing touches on today's salad. I look down and notice that somehow I managed to make just enough food for all of us, and I wondered how my subconscious self knew that they would be coming. After salad there was tea, toast, and typing, and new comfy desk chairs. The cats were stretched long, and there was Jesse, slowly rocking back and forth, grinning from ear to ear.

A Worker Among Workers Salad
1 bulb fennel, shaved or sliced thin
8 small fresh carrots, sliced
1 small bunch spinach
1 small bunch basil
1 cup pepitas
2 small red heirloom tomatoes

Dress with:
4 Tbsp grape seed oil
2 Tbsp lime juice
3/4 Tbsp raw honey
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp tarragon
salt and pepper to taste
1 Tbsp apple cider vinegar

Christina's vote: "This salad made me want to run up a tree"

Worth the Trouble Salad

This is one of those salads where the flavor of the individual ingredients really matters. It is best made hungry, and after a long day at work. Make this salad when you think that you can't handle just one more task, because you are absolutely right. One more task would put you over the edge. So in this case, you really need a change of perspective.

Start by forgiving yourself for any shortcomings in the performance you are about to give. In other words forget about the outcome. Don't make any decisions, just open the fridge and look. Peer into the crisper and find the things you tucked away. Place a slice of zucchini on your tongue and let it pull moisture out of your salivary glands. Drink some basil through your nose. Feel the peppers to see if they are crisp. Now take one out and cut into it. Smell it. Taste it. Imagine it bathed in vinegar, slightly spiced, and with nutty undertones.

I couldn't handle any more tasks today, so I allowed myself to get quiet and listened to my senses as they worked out this recipe.

Worth the Trouble Salad
Mix together 1 cup kashi, cooked according to instructions on box, then cooled.
1 small, fresh green pepper, diced (green peppers are technically unripe, much like green tomatoes. When they ripen they become red, orange, or yellow peppers)
1/2 small zucchini, cubed
1/2 small yellow onion, diced
8 cherry tomatoes, sliced and cut in half
1 small bunch mixed basil, chopped (I used cinnamon and fruity basil. I have no idea what variety they are specifically, but they smell fantastic).

Heat 3 Tbsp grape seed oil in a frying pan. Turn off the heat and add a pinch of salt and 3 cloves garlic minced. Stir in 1 tsp tarragon, 2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar, and 1/2 tsp soy sauce. Add a little black pepper. Allow to cool, then pour over the salad. Add some olive oil if it needs a richer texture or flavor.

Christina's vote: "This salad made me want to know if June bugs fall in love"

Spicy Steak and Gorgonzola Salad

Bob Ross painted a smear of titanium white across the pretty blue and pink brushed Minnesota sky, and then dotted the green trees with yellow to signify the beginning of autumn. This time of the year the suburban streets of the twin cities begin to take on a vermont like quality. Each box-shaped, shingled house embodies the charm of a little red barn. I imagined Bob Ross in his jumpsuit and afro rolling paint onto his palate knife and teaching with the high notes and hushed calm of a nursery school teacher. I turned my attention to the pavement ahead as the early morning traffic sporadically zoomed by.

The streets were a runway with neat rows of streetlamps reflecting off of glassy asphault, still wet from a midnight rain.It seemed that me eyes were not quiet done sleeping when I hauled them out of bed and forced them to help me find my running sneakers. Now they were resentfully swollen, and drooping shut, causing the gas stations, street lights, and coffee shops to blend into a streak of neon. I quickened my pace and laughed internally at my luck of having found such a positive way of relieving stress and seeking adventure.

The darkness lifted at about the time that the homeless people began their short walk from the night shelter to the day shelter. The same cast of characters have been walking this strip since I moved here in 2003. A one- toothed, old man stopped to deliver me a thumbs up and a wide smile as I went by. It was a small gesture of encouragement, but it ignited my spirit for the final mile home.

Spicy Steak and Gorgonzola Salad
Mix together:
1 bunch watercress (for the spice. My father always put horseradish on his steak, I find that watercress gives steak a similar kick)
1-2 cups frisee
10 cherry tomatoes, sliced
1/2 large zucchini, cubed
top with sliced pan seared strip steak, cut into strips(I marinated a strip steak in yogurt, garlic and rosemary before cooking on the stove top. Yogurt is an easy way to soften meat)

Dress with:
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp grape seed oil
2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tsp maple syrup
1-2 Tbsp gorgonzola cheese, mixed in well
chopped rosemary, salt, and ground black pepper to taste

Christina's vote: "This salad made me want to darn an old shirt."

Simply Tropical Fantasy Salad

It's 5:30 pm and I have been working for 12 hours.

It seems like years have passed in this one day.

The fluorescent lighting has cooked my outer layers and hardened me at the core.

I feel like a microwaved frozen-burrito, oddly tough and pasty on the outside and frozen in the middle.

A cup of coffee would melt my icy interior, but the Starbucks has long since closed and my gut has exceeded the capacity limit for burnt office blend.

The sun outside is like a model in a magazine, a voiceless, odorless, temperature-less, tease for the imagination.

I try to get pulled in by it, but the central air fights back hard, and soon I surrender to pitiful begging.

Please sunshine, don't go home before I get out of here!

Simply Tropical Fantasy Salad
cube a local seedless watermelon into odd geometric shapes
sprinkle with lime zest and shredded coconut
sit back and enjoy!

Christina's vote: "a vacation at home"

Luncheon Tea Salad

The lemonade sat in a globe shaped pitcher propped upright in bowl of ice. It was accumulating a frosty dew as the guests arrived in twos and threes. They set down their bags and offered to help in the kitchen.

The chatter steadily rose to a voiceless chorus, where no individual could be singled out. Everyone was made comfortable by the hostesses impeccable charm, and cunning flattery. The little girl skipped through the hallway, abandoning her pretty patten leather shoes, and freeing her toes and heels from blistering torture. The smooth hard wood allowed her to slide into the kitchen where the caterer offered her an approving smile. She was sent back into the living room with a tray of tea sandwiches, a stack of napkins, and detailed instructions about the nature of the decadent treats on her tray. These are watercress, these are egg, and these are salmon and cucumber.

Luncheon Tea Salad
8 eggs, hard boiled (in a pot, cover eggs with water, bring to a boil over high heat, boil 1 min, remove from heat and allow to sit covered for 9 min)
8 celery heart stalks (the inside pieces which are white)
3 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley
3 Tbsp mayonnaise
sirachi hot sauce (to taste)
lemon pepper (to taste)

Mix ingredients with a fork, mashing the eggs as you go. A note about eggs: older eggs are much easier to peel, but farm fresh eggs are fantastically delicious and worth the peeling hassle. You decide.

Slice 1 large fresh zucchini into rounds. Top with some spicy watercress in a clover pattern. Add a spoonful of egg salad to each one and serve!

Christina's vote: "This salad made me want to correct Emily's grammar."

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"

Shaved Fennel Salad

Fennel is nothing short of amazing. The cool freshness and snap of every bite of fennel is wrapped in the delicate softness of anise that is both sweet and long lasting. A fennel salad usually has the effect of making me wonder why I don't eat the delicious bulb every day. A few hours later however, I remember. Fennel has powerful medicinal effects. It.. ahem.. gets things moving (in the supplement industry it can be found listed as an ingredient in colon cleansers, and I am pretty sure it is a primary component of "smooth move" tea). In moderation, a nice shaved fennel salad is refreshing and beautiful, and the perfect thing to enjoy for lunch on the patio a hot summer day.

I made a fennel salad this morning before rushing off to the farmers market to sit on a radio panel with Jason DeRusha from WCCO and Jerry Untiedts from Untiedts farm. We were pitted against each other in a trivia competition. I lost to Jason (but only because I had a cramp in my buzzer ;)) After the trivia, the topic turned to tomatoes, and suddenly the three of us were practically tipping out of our seats and butting in on each other to carry the conversation. It was amazing to be surrounded by so many different perspectives all with a common interest in food.

The joy carried on for me throughout the rest of the day. I got to learn from Tammy Wong and Theresa about the importance of love in cooking. Then I met an amazing and adorable couple. They were restaurant owners and food lovers, each of them had rich accents which they wove into our dialogue like strands of colored yarn in an earth-toned blanket. They stopped by for a brief introduction, and inadvertently left me with a spiritual message:

When you are ready to follow your heart, the means to the path will find you.

Shaved Fennel Salad
1 medium bulb fennel (sliced thin)
1 long or 3 small carrots (sliced thin)
8 cherry tomatoes, sliced
1 small bunch basil, chopped

Dress with:
2 Tbsp grape seed oil
1 Tbsp lime juice
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 tsp ume plum vinegar
lime zest
1 tsp raw honey

Christina's vote: "I drank the dressing at the bottom of the bowl"

Birthday with a Bite Salad

Time picks up feelings like spices in vinegar and simultaneously the feelings enhance and change. The universe and the beings inside it marinate in each other and two separate entities emerge as one. On days as hot as yesterday it is hard to know where the air ends and where my skin begins, a gentle reminder that our separateness is an illusion. Even my t-shirt appeared to be an inseparable part of self. I tugged at the hem of my clinging shirt as Christina, Jesse, and I walked slowly around the perimeter of Mears park, where a free rock/rap fusion concert was taking place.

The approximate time of the early evening was masked by the heavy, deep rainclouds in the sky, which prolonged dusk into what seemed like an eternity. The band reminded me of being in high school, and I looked at all the people in the park from the perspective of an outsider looking back in. The warmth of the pavement mirrored the heat in the sky. Two children darted past us. They were barefoot, giggling, and chasing each other. The feeling of feet slapping against pavement was audible, and made me grateful for the freedom to relive my childhood through running.

On a side note, today I turn 31 years old. Like many people, I trudged through a time in my life where I never imagined that I would live past 30, but then I think that is a typical thought for adolescents. So at 31, I celebrate more than my age. I am celebrating that the universe exceeds my expectations of the limits of what I once believed was possible.

Birthday With a Bite Salad
2 cups mache greens
8 cherry tomatoes, sliced
5 assorted radishes, sliced
1/4 red onion, diced
1/2 cup mixed salad sprouts
1/2 avocado, cut up

dress with:
3 Tbsp grape seed oil
1 1/2 Tbsp cider vinegar
1/2 tsp soy sauce
1 tsp brown sugar
salt and pepper to taste
pinch soy lecithin

Christina's vote: "This salad says happy birthday!"

Frightfully Delicious Tomato Salad

I reached into my CSA bag and dug through the piles of leaves, each of which emitted a different scent which stirred the corners of my forgotten memories. My hand brushed against something cool and smooth, and I pulled out a bright green cucumber. I dug a little deeper and pulled out something dry, with deep grooves. It was purple garlic. I reached in a final time. That's when I discovered the thing I have been waiting all season for. It was my biggest reason for signing up for this particular CSA. Heirloom tomatoes.

Fresh heirloom tomatoes are such a rare seasonal treat for me that it is hard to imagine that there was once a time when people considered them inedible, dangerous even. It was once believed that eating tomatoes would cause the body to fill up with oxalic acid, and result in immediate death. It is true that tomatoes contain small amounts of oxalic acid, but then again so do potatoes, peppers, and spinach.

Eating tomatoes today has such associations with health that it is hard to imagine that their was once a time when people believed that tomatoes caused cancer. There was a sort of mass "contempt prior to investigation" of tomatoes in America until the mid 1800's. It was then that a Colonel in Salem, NJ stood on the front steps of the courthouse in town and ate an entire bucket of tomatoes in front of 2000 spectators just to prove that it could be done. He surprised them all by not dying.

My excitement escalated as I pulled out the blood red, deep green, orange, and purple heirloom tomatoes from my CSA bag. I was certain that I would be able to get a picture that would be nothing short of impressive of today's salad, but then...

"ugh, those colors are scary!" Christina said, looking over my shoulder. "What are those?"

"Tomatoes" I replied, staring back at her in shock. Those who don't grocery shop will never know what a treat it is to have heirloom tomatoes appear in your kitchen without having to be weighed and priced in a checkout lane first. "Try one" I said, and I handed an orange slice of tomato over to her on my knife.

"it's so sweet" she said.
"I know, the orange ones have less acid in them, so they taste sweeter. The dark ones are more tart. The red ones, in my opinion, taste like tomato sauce." I said as I cut up the tomatoes and threw them in the salad. Christina stared down apprehensively at the drab colored plate in front of me.

"You'd better blog about the tomatoes. If people don't know what they are, they might get scared that you are cooking with rotten food." She said.

"Okay, good idea" I replied "I think I will."

Frightfully Delicious Tomato Salad
2 small cucumbers, sliced
4 small heirloom tomatoes, sliced into wedges
1/2 red onion, diced
1/2 cup shredded purple cabbage
1/2 fresh green pepper
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 1/2 Tbsp white wine vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup feta cheese
mix together and serve.

Christina's vote: "A little fear in every bite"

'Hosta' La Vista Salad

The giant hosta shook their heart shaped heads from side to side in the breeze, and cast off the water from their evening hose-down. They stood tall in a small patch dirt in the middle of the park and hung over the red granite, which was spattered beneath them.

There was a large stream of water running from the sprinkler hose past my sneakers, which ended in a murky puddle that people were meandering precariously around. They wore helmets and rolled bicycles, or walked authoritatively with their pants hanging low and boxer shorts showing. Some were carrying briefcases and looked slightly preoccupied. Some were carrying briefcases and looked tired and bored. They mostly ignored the hostas, which tossed ever so gently. I would not have paid them one bit of attention were I not waiting in the impossible heat for run club to begin.

I knew no one would come with the humidity being so high but I felt like I needed to show up just in case. People were walking their dogs on leashes, and casting them out as bait. When someone bit, the dog owner would toss their heads back and laugh and then look lovingly at the dog while slowly shortening the leash. When they had the person fully reeled in, they would size them up with a scrutinizing eye and then decide whether their pray was a keeper. The rejected ones were thrown back instantly without so much as a phone number.

At 6:05 I hopped over the tiny stream and made my way back inside, eager to get back upstairs to the salad I had made and then left this morning. It was sweet and spiced with tarragon. It had apple cider vinegar and crunchy peppers and cucumber. It was salty with feta cheese. For once I was excited not have to go running right away after work.

Hosta La Vista Salad
2 cups mache greens
1 small orange bell pepper, diced
1/2 green pepper, diced
1/2 cup sliced cherry tomatoes
1/2 cup feta cheese
1 peeled, sliced cucumber
1/4 red onion, diced

Dress with:
3 Tbsp grape seed oil
2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
salt and pepper
1 minced clove garlic
1 1/2 tsp raw honey
1/4 tsp ume plum vinegar
1 tsp tarragon

Christina's vote: "This salad made me feel like I could live to 1001"

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"

Summer Rice Thread Salad

I sat riddled with anxiety at her kitchen table. It was not that I had anything in particular to be anxious about, but I was in my early twenties and going through a phase of life where everything made me feel insecure.

Kelly floated back and forth from one counter to the next, pulling out drawers and opening cabinets gathering things. She told me a story about a recent food history class she had taught, most of which I missed because I was busy thinking hard about safe ways to fill the empty space in our conversation. My insecurities had rendered me totally preoccupied.

She dropped some salt into a simmering cast iron skillet on the stove. The skillet threw back some steam, which she caught in her outstretched hand. Kelly cooked barefoot, in a minimalist kitchen which contained a collection of mismatched ceramic pottery and her grandmothers china. She was a short woman with short red hair and a liberal sense of humor, which overflowed when she laughed. Kelly was a chef who had left the restaurant business to go to graduate school to study Spanish. In spite of Kelly's Irish heritage, she had found a home in the culture and the cuisine of Mexico. She taught me that I would be okay, no matter where I go or what I do for a living. She inspired me to apply to graduate school.

"What kind of tea would you like?" Kelly asked. I hadn't planned that into my list of things to talk about.
"Oh, whatever you have is fine" Kelly gave me a knowing look, then opened a jar and plopped a tea bag into each of the two mugs on the counter. The radio was on, and playing some pleasant classical guitar music. The kettle whistled and Kelly went over to the stove. She turned off the heat and picked up the kettle, then slowly, in a steady stream poured the water into one of the cups. She put the kettle down on the tiled counter top, and let the steam rise in the first cup for a minute, watching it dance through the brisk kitchen air. Then, with equal patience and slow precision she poured the second cup. She brought the tea cups over to the table and then sat opposite from me, wrapping her hands around her mug. I looked at her quizzically.

"Do you always make your tea like that?"
"Like what?" she asked.
"Like that is all you are planning to do for the entire day?" I elaborated.
"Only recently." Kelly laughed. "It's a Buddhist principle. Don't make the tea to drink the tea. Make the tea to make the tea. You drink the tea to drink the tea. It's a subtle difference, but it helps me not get ahead of myself."

I looked down at my teacup, and watched the tea as it bled into the water. Then I took a deep breath, and gave myself permission not to speak.

Summer Rice Thread Salad
cook 3 oz (1/2 pkg) rice threads by pouring boiling water over the top and letting them sit for 10 min. Drain hot water and rinse noodles with cold water. In hand fulls, lift the noodles up and cut them (as though cutting hair) a few times, so that they can be easily detangled. Mix in:
1 small shredded zucchini
3-4 medium carrots, sliced
1 small bunch cilantro
1 cup shredded purple cabbage
1 small banana pepper (or hot pepper)

dressing:
2 1/2 Tbsp grape seed oil
1 1/2 tsp brown sugar
1 tsp lime juice
1 tsp toasted sesame oil
2 tsp soy sauce
2 cloves minced garlic
1/2 tsp ume plum vinegar
1-2 tsp sriracha hot sauce
whisk together and serve.

Christina's vote: "This salad was interesting, in a good way"

Summer Afternoon Slaw

"We know that our corn is good when the raccoons start eating it" said the husband and wife team of growers. They both wore black hats with Heinel farm embroidery, and black t-shirts. The man had a goatee on his chin and a bitter sweet sense of sarcasm that made me think he must listen to heavy metal. His wife was undoubtedly also into heavy metal, and seemed to be able to comfortably fluctuate between a sarcastic edge and a genuine sunny disposition. The two of them seemed completely in sync, as though they had been best friend since high school. I was grilling them about their corn.

A local chef recently mentioned that she has been educating all of the staff in her restaurant about how they shouldn't be upset when they find bugs in their produce. The presence of bugs means that what you have is a good product. If the bugs won't eat something, then it probably contains some sort of poison. The husband and wife team at Heinel farms opt not to spray their corn with pesticides, but instead chop the tips off when the corn gets tasty enough for the critters. Corn bugs usually prefer to house themselves in the tips.

I walked around asking all the growers what type of corn they were growing. Some of them rattled off names, like "Supersweet", "Ambrosia", or "Bodacious". Others just gave me the catalogue number. There are many different classifications su is the oldest type of sweet corn, followed by se (sugary extender) which retain sweetness for 2-4 days in the fridge. sh2 are the supersweet varieties with 4-10 times the sugar of su corn, which stay sweet for up to 10 days. The final types are the sy, triple sweet and sweet gene varieties, which combine multiple types of corn genetics on the same ear.

I noticed one vendor selling a brand with a trade mark sign on the name "Mirai" corn. This type of corn supposedly is the sweetest on the market and can contain over 45% sugar. I asked if the Mirai sweet corn was used for making corn sweeteners, but was told that despite the lower sugar content, basic field corn is actually used to make sweeteners. Corn sweeteners are made by taking field corn and allowing a bacteria to break up the starch.

Most of the growers boast about the high sugar content of their crops, which I take to be an indicator that this is a major selling point for most people. This surprised me considering many of the conversations I have had with market shoppers seemed to indicate that many people are of the opinion that corn sweeteners are evil.

I pondered this question as I walked over to one of the vendors, picked up a deliciously pristine ear of corn (complete with worm on the tip) and took a deeply satisfying crunch directly out of the middle of the cob. It was so delicious that I didn't dare buy more, because it never would have made it home without getting eaten in the car.

Summer Afternoon Slaw
In a food processor (or using a grater) shred:
4 medium carrots
1/2 kohlrabi
1/4th medium green cabbage
1/6th medium red cabbage
1/2 small daikon radish

dress with:
1 1/2 Tbsp toasted sesame oil
1 1/2 Tbsp rice vinegar
2 tsp brown sugar
2 tsp soy sauce

Christina's vote: "There was not enough to satisfy me"

Local Beet salad with Virgin Mojito Dressing

The sky, which had been brewing with clouds of various shapes and sizes, had finally settled on a uniform grey. The air seemed to be saturated with cool water, and together with the color of the sky it felt as though the city were trapped inside a giant glossy rain droplet plastered to a window somewhere. I dropped my self pity about working through the weekends as well as the weeks somewhere along the sidewalk in between my car and farmers market where I work. I love working there, in fact, I love it so much that it hardly feels like a job at all, but it is difficult to be away from my family so often.

As I got to the vendors, my sleepy scowl melted into a smile. Mr. Kelly of Mrs. Kelly's teas was the first person to greet me. He makes it his business to know where all the great pastries are, and is known for creating beautiful appetizers out of the free samples being offered. When he tries something that is really good, say, some elephant ears from Fresh Fields Bakery or some cheese croissants from Ule's, he buys a huge batch of them and walks around delivering some to everyone. He leans in close and talks quietly out of the side of his mouth, as though everything he chooses to say is proprietary information that you are being entrusted with.

"Have you seen the rainbow carrots yet" He leaned across his tea table and asked, ducking his head down low and then looking over his shoulder.
"Of course I have" I replied. "I used them in the kids program two weeks ago! Haven't you been paying attention?" He looked disappointed, but then laughed at my teasing. I kept walk on walking. There was Minnesota herb lady Bonnie Dehn, of Dehn's farms. She was standing at a coffee shop vendor, laughing and rubbing elbows with all of the people waiting for coffee. Her presence made the little stand with the umbrella sticking up feel just like a neighborhood pub.

When I got to the demo stand, I was greeted with the message that the first apples of the season had arrived. The air was buzzing with so much excitement that it felt as though we were all standing in the waiting area of a hospital and had just been told that a baby was just born. I felt like passing out bubble gum cigars. "Where?" I asked, thrilled. "Over in stall 209. Go and see for yourself!" I rushed over and was greeted by a flamboyantly happy man with plastic gloves and a tray of apples, and the rest of the day listened for the signs of autumn creeping in.

Virgin Mojito Salad Dressing
1/2 cup yogurt
1 tsp brown sugar
1 small bunch mint
1/2 tsp ume plum vinegar
1/2 tsp red wine vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

Local Greens and Beet Salad (in honor of the eat local challenge)
Blanch whatever varieties of local beets you decide to use separately, so that the red beet juice doesn't bleed into the lighter color varieties. To blanch them, boil for 3-4 min, then shock them in cold water. Mix with
3 small local carrots, sliced
2 cups local mixed greens

Christina's vote: "This salad made my angst subside"

The Root of Fear Salad

The man announced his entrance by loudly criticizing the music which was playing in the independently-owned coffee shop.
"This music is crap, the only people who would like this music are morons." The two young women working behind the counter modestly bent their heads, lowering their nose rings deeper into the tray of organic carrots they were prepping. The man appeared to be completely unaware that he might be insulting someone,
"I mean, I wish I had brought my earplugs. This music is terrible. It's so boring. The only people who would listen to this have to be the most idiotic people on earth."

The quiet whispers of a woman's voice responded to him, but she apparently had been taught social graces and knew that if she were not going to say something nice she should talk in a whisper. I assumed she was encouraging the man, because he continued on giving his opinions about everyone and everything as though he had a captive audience. He was trying to impress her.
When he ran out of things to insult, he would turn to his newspaper and look to the movie listings.

"That movie is such crap, I can't stand American movies."
The woman whispered something back. It was clear from their discussion that she was from another country and had just flown in today. I wondered if she enjoyed his company. Clearly he thought that he was impressing her. If she did like the music, or American movies, or French television, she she certainly couldn't share these things with him. I started to feel sorry for her, then agitated that she was humoring him. She got up to get a glass of water and I noticed that she was not a homely woman, and she appeared to be exhausted by him.

I wondered if he would be as impressed with his opinions if he heard himself on tape. I finished the work that I was doing at the coffee shop, and got up to leave. I looked to their table as I walked out, and his eyes caught mine. He had gray hair combed neatly back, and deep wrinkles in his forehead. He looked absolutely terrified. He looked like a young boy trapped in an old man's body. For a moment, I thought that it was my job to try to talk some sense into them both. Then I realized that I was not here to be the tape recorder for them. They were the mirror for me.

I smiled at them both and walked out.

The Root of Fear Salad
5 medium carrots, shredded in food processor
1 small daikon radish, peeled and shredded in food processor
2 small green onions
1 Tbsp toasted sesame oil
1/2 Tbsp rice vinegar
1 tsp brown sugar
1 tsp ume plum vinegar
1 tsp soy sauce
adjust to taste
garnish with fresh celery leaves.

Christina's vote: "A good solid crunch"

August Breeze Salad

I hung my head back and relied on the pull of the swing to carry me through the wafting smell of corn on the cob roasting on the grill. The children were sent into the garden to sniff out the best vine ripened tomatoes and would soon be arriving with them cradled in the hem of their t shirts. My feet, which were wet from the sprinkler, were now stained with grass and drying in the warm August heat. A kite soared through the air, and dragged the little boy that it was attached to back and forth across the open field. I had a craving to wrap my legs around the cool chain of the swing and flip myself completely upside down to allow the thoughts to just drain out of my mind, but instead I just tightened my grip and leaned back further. A sudden tug pulled me out of my trance like a bucket of ice water and you were standing there with an evil grin on your face. “BOO” you said, laughing. “Mom needs your help in the kitchen.”

August Breeze Salad
Cook 1 box quinoa pasta (boil a pot of water with a pinch of salt in it, pour the pasta in and allow to boil for 8 min). Drain and rinse (in cold water) the pasta. In the empty pot, add
3 Tbsp olive oil
4 cloves fresh garlic
pinch salt
heat the garlic for about 1 min, then pour the pasta back into the pot. Remove from the heat and allow pasta to cool (I stuck it into the freezer) Mix with
1 large local tomato, diced
1 large local red pepper, diced
1 bunch basil, chopped
salt and pepper
1 Tbsp white wine vinegar

Christina's vote: "This salad made me opinionated"

First Trip Abroad Salad

Kate looked exhausted. She had long straight purple bags under her eyes and her chin length hair, which was tousled and unruly, was kept precariously pinned down by a pair of large black sunglasses. She jangled a set of keys in one hand, and was dragging a small boy behind her in the other. She didn’t notice me as she flew by, with her chin raised as though she were in a hurry. There were many bloggers tucked behind their laptops in the coffee shop. I blended into the scenery like green on army fatigue.
“Kate!” I called after her. Kate stopped abruptly and looked around. The little boy bumped into her legs, and then clutched onto her so as not to fall.
“Kate, over here” I repeated.
“Oh, HI EMILY! So good to see you!! It has been too long.” She said. “I apologize if I am a little spacey, I picked up my two kids last night from the airport. They spent the last two months in Panama with their dad doing volunteer work. Their flight came in at 2 am, but then my daughter and I stayed up talking until 5!” She was excited, and had the sort of manic energy of a person captured by a moment of genius.

A small tan 16 year old with dark brown eyes and a scrunched up ponytail meandered over. Her skin was noticeably glowing and she was sipping an iced coffee out of a straw.
“You remember my daughter Kelsey, don’t you?” Kate said. Kelsey plopped down in the seat to my left, her mother and brother sat down to my right and the three of them began excitedly recounting the details of the trip. Kelsey said all the polite things that a teenager would say to an adult about a trip to a foreign country. At 30 years old it still shocks me when teenagers treat me like an adult. She talked about the culture, about her desire to become bilingual, about the volunteer work that they did (which was community driven), and how scary it was to be 16 years old spending time alone in Panama.

I asked her about the food, and she lit up and spoke a thousand miles a minute. “Everything is fresh, and grown right there in the fields by the house. Our host family was really poor, but they had the most amazing food.” She talked about corn stuffed in corn husks and boiled for hours, triple fried plantains, fresh picked vegetables, and coffee.

She was inspired. The trip had rescued her from her teenage angst, and delivered the promise of a future that she could imagine herself in. I wondered if the memory of the trip would be the touchstone she would refer back to throughout the rest of her high school and college life. I wondered if the memory of fresh foods and sleeping on unpaved floors would be the thing that would get her through the difficult times ahead. As the family got up to leave I had the distinct feeling that it would.

First Trip Abroad Salad
1 bunch arugula, chopped
2 red peppers, diced
1 tomato sliced
1 ear of corn, with the corn cut off

Lemon Garlic dressing
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 ½ Tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp honey
1 clove fresh garlic
salt and pepper
a dash ume plum vinegar
a pinch soy lecithin
lemon zest

Christina’s vote: “this salad made me what to whistle”

Salad For the Birds

The old man on the park bench sat hunched over like a giant navy blue sack waiting to be taken out. I noticed him as I took my hand off of the back of my head and reached up to swat a mosquito that was about to plunge his stinger into my raised leg. He was in my line of vision, but I had been so focused on crunching out sit-ups that he didn't even register. If it weren't for the gentle rising and falling of his breath, I might have mistaken him for a pile of stained clothes. Grass stuck to the backs of my arms, and I had to consciously try not to think about how many dogs are walked daily in that particular park. It was just about mid-dawn, prime transition time between exercise walkers and newly showered walk-to-work employees. Stacia, my work out partner, looked up from her kettle bell.
"I smell pot" She said.
"Yeah, me too. Where's it coming from?" I looked up and around. There was a woman sitting at the bus stop. She was staring at us. There were too men standing in front of the bar across the street. They had crew cuts and were smoking cigarettes wearing khaki cargo pants and sunglasses. They were also staring at us. I kept scanning the scene. There were a few people walking by with gym bags, a woman walking her dogs, there was a man in a suit with a briefcase. They were all looking at us. I had a moment of paranoia, why is everyone staring?? Do they think we are the pot smokers?

Stacia lifted her kettle bell and swung it in between her legs, then raised it high. That's when I realized why people were staring. It's not usual for two young looking woman to be swinging large iron balls around at 6:30 am in the heart of the financial district of a city. Standing in our little patch of grass in the middle of a concrete sea, we were an island of oddities. The pot smoke coming from the bench was business as usual for this park. By the time we were leaving, the man had already moved from his spot. He left behind a wide scattering of bread crumbs, and the squirrels and birds were enjoying a banquet feast.

"Why does it seem like it is always the hungry and homeless people who feed the birds? I mean, wouldn't you think that the people who have money would be the ones who want to share their food?" Stacia asked.
"Huh, I never thought about it that way. Maybe they can empathize with the little guys, or maybe they just have more time on their hands." I thought about how it's funny what we value in life. Pieces of paper that we trade for things that we have to put places and clean constantly. What a luxury it would be to sit in the shady park all day, watching the squirrels and the birds. I suppose I would get restless with that life before too long. Stacia and I lugged our kettle bells inside, and parted ways to put on our costumes and join in on the flood of people going to work.

Salad For the Birds
Mix together
1/2 cup green leaf lettuce,
1/2 cup red leaf lettuce,
1/2 cup arugula,
1/2 cup snow pea pods,
1/2 cup snap pea pods,
1 purple carrot,
1 white carrot,
1 orange carrot
This is basically the stuff that came in my CSA bag.

1 cup mixed varieties of basil or just straight up basil
2 green onions
4 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp white wine vinegar
1 tsp raw honey
salt and pepper to taste

Christina's vote: "This salad made me feel well"

Salad Christina

I knew her artwork long before we ever met. Her paintings first entered my psyche in the coffee shop we both used to frequent. They haunted the walls there for a spell. The beautiful abstract figures unlatched themselves from the walls and crept in through the corners of my eyes, and then directed my attention beyond the every day caffeinated stories in my social huddle. They were textured and flat, bright and dark, they were brilliant. They appeared to be fishing for something. They could be everything to everyone, or to the someone who got hooked. I noticed them, and then I noticed her. With the pull of her rod I was reeled in.

Later, when we hung art together, we were without bickering. We were both giddy, like two children building a fort. My job was to stand back and call for her to turn the painting this way or that. Her job was to hold the hammer and climb up on impossible shaky ground, balancing on her toes and stretching her body long. We probably would have been more efficient if we had switched jobs. I watched quietly as she hobbled down ladders in cowboy boots, and when she got down from the ladder the painting was never anywhere near straight.

It never occurred to us that hanging art as a couple was supposed to be stressful until the man at the coffee shop walked by and remarked about how wonderful it was that the two of us were able hang art without it ending in divorce. He had the scruffy beard of a 30 something bachelor, and it was clear that love was fog that settled higher than he had ever dared to climb.

Her paintings now surround the walls of our home. When I stare into them I can allow myself to be pulled into the moment uninterrupted. Like a child writing symphonies I am delivered to a space in my mind that continues to build upon itself.

Salad Christina
3 small cucumbers, locally grown
1 cup cherry tomatoes, sliced
1 cup Greek yogurt
1/2 cup chopped cilantro
1 cup green onions, sliced lengthwise (white part only)
salt and pepper to taste
3 cloves spicy garlic
Mix together and serve!

Christina's vote: "This salad danced down my throat"

Short Fiction Character Sketch Salad

On the last day of school Yuni arrived home drenched with sweat. The summer sun had come early, and her little classroom was not yet ready to shell out the cash required to pump up the air conditioning. Her teacher had opened the windows, but it seemed that just attracted the flies and the bees. They dragged their wings back and forth across the screen, like prisoners clanging metal cups. They wanted in, and she felt for the little guys. She wanted out. Warm air occasionally wafted across her desk. Like a renegade prankster rushing through the classroom naked, it caused a momentary disruption in her mental fog. Yuni wished she were leaving with the breeze, but then she thought about how guilty she would feel if she were leaving school early.

She got out her pencil and started to draw, hoping that she could distract herself with minimal guilt until the bell rang. By the time the bell sounded Yuni was deep in the middle of a pirate battle. There were cannonballs and ships all over her paper, and the galley wench had met a pirate rebel and coaxed him to be kind to her and to the rest of his crew. She was headed for an island paradise on the bottom right hand corner of the page when the bell caused her to jump and pencil a line right through her ship. She felt a momentary pang of guilt and panic. What had the teacher said? What was the homework?

Ah yes, then she remembered. It was summer. She was simply going to go home and forget any of this year had ever happened. Yuni was so giddy when she got off the bus that she decided to run the quarter mile back home. She was out of shape and her lungs began to burn instantly. She could feel the baked potato chips her mother had packed her for lunch creeping into the back of her throat. Her backpack strained against her shoulders and her books thumped from side to side against her back. Her short hair bounced up and down on her scalp. Her thighs ached, just above her knees. She ran at first just to get home quicker, but once she started going she felt like she never wanted to stop. She would run off the year, and the books and the stress. She would run off the teasing. She would run off her mothers nitpicking and dieting advice. She would run off the college applications. She would run herself free.

1 cup sliced cherry tomatoes
1 cup chopped cilantro
The corn from 2 corn cobs
The white part of 3 green onions, ribboned (slice lengthwise)
1 cup chopped lettuce, any kind that is not bitter
Salt and pepper to taste.

I think this salad is good without dressing, or with just a squirt of lime juice. If you prefer, dress with:
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tsp mustard powder
1 tsp raw honey
1 tsp lime juice

Christina's vote: "This salad felt like the wind in my hair."