Epiphany Salad

Eaters, it sometimes takes me years – YEARS – to recognize the simple solution to a vexing problem.  It took an age for me to acknowledge and enact the plan that would allow me to not wake up to a sink teeming with dirty dishes every morning. And the answer wasn’t edible plates.  I wish.

Recently I had what Oprah calls an “Aha” and what I call a “Why am I such a thickhead?” moment.  In January of 2006, pregnant with my second daughter and at large in San Francisco, I had a fantastic salad. Transcendently flavorful. It was at the now defunct Firecracker restaurant and it consisted of nothing more exotic than leaf lettuce coated in a sesame vinaigrette and peppered with sesame seeds.  I have pined for this plate of greenery for eight years.  Enter the June issue of Bon Appetit magazine and the Canal House Simplest Asian Dressing.

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As is often the case when a recipe makes me frisky with excitement, I can’t stop making it.  I got so worked up grabbing a bite from the bowl that I bit my finger.  I could care less if anyone in my house likes this salad.  I love this salad, we have been reunited, and nothing and no one can keep us apart.  We are like that couple in The Notebook.

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If only more of life’s yearnings and conundrums were so easily, so elegantly dealt with.  That pile of papers on my kitchen counter that I drape with a decorative tablecloth whenever we have company?  Still burgeoning.  That weird smell behind the couch (dust? water damage?)?  Still weird.  I am about six years out on those issues but for now, I can’t dwell. I need to spend some special time dressing my salad, and changing the dressing on my injured finger.

marycake

 

 

 

 

 

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