Ambrosia Fruit Salad -- For the Nights When the Kitchen Has Nothing Left to Give

Raj hasn't slept in four days. Not insomnia in the technical sense — he sleeps, but in fragments: two hours here, ninety minutes there, then awake at 3 AM staring at the ceiling while the house sleeps around him. I know because I'm awake too. Not the stress-eating awake — a different awake. The kind where you lie in bed and listen to your husband breathe wrong and know that something has broken and you don't know how to fix it. The hospital has been relentless. COVID patients, cardiac patients, COVID-cardiac patients. Death. So much death. Raj doesn't talk about it — not to me, not to anyone. He comes home, showers, eats the plate I leave on the counter, and lies down and doesn't sleep. "You need to talk to someone," I said on Wednesday. "I talk to you." "You don't. We coordinate. We schedule. We pass each other in hallways. We don't talk." He looked at me with the exhausted eyes of a man who has been holding too much for too long. And I recognized the look because I see it in the mirror. We're both drowning. Separately. In the same house. I've gained twenty-five pounds now. The walking helps — I do it every morning, 5:30, rain or shine — but the nighttime eating continues. The pharmacist in me knows I need help. The daughter of Lakshmi Krishnamurthy thinks she can manage it alone. "We don't have anxiety. We have work ethic." But work ethic isn't working. And neither is Raj's silence. And neither is my refrigerator at midnight. I made nothing tonight. Raj didn't eat. Anaya ate yogurt and banana (her default when she senses tension — she retreats to safe foods, like an emotional barometer disguised as a toddler). Something needs to change. We need help. I need to say it out loud. Not today. But soon. Before the separate drowning becomes permanent.

I didn’t cook tonight, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But in the morning, after I walked my 5:30 loop in the dark and came back to a house where Anaya was already awake and asking for something sweet, I made this — because it requires almost nothing: a can, a container, a bowl. Anaya retreats to fruit when the air in our house goes heavy, and I think there’s something she understands that I’m only now learning — that on the days when you can’t fix the big things, you can still set something small and sweet on the table. This is that recipe. It asks nothing of you, and that’s exactly why it belongs here.

Ambrosia Fruit Salad

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes (plus 1 hour chilling) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 can (20 oz) pineapple chunks, drained
• 1 can (15 oz) mandarin oranges, drained
• 1 cup seedless green grapes, halved
• 1 cup miniature marshmallows
• 1/2 cup sweetened shredded coconut
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1/2 cup frozen whipped topping, thawed
• 1 banana, sliced (optional, add just before serving)
• Maraschino cherries for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Drain the fruit. Drain the pineapple chunks and mandarin oranges thoroughly and pat dry with paper towels if needed. Excess moisture will thin the dressing.
2. Combine the fruit. In a large mixing bowl, gently stir together the pineapple, mandarin oranges, grapes, marshmallows, and shredded coconut.
3. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, fold the sour cream and whipped topping together until just combined — do not overmix.
4. Fold together. Pour the dressing over the fruit mixture and fold gently until everything is evenly coated.
5. Chill. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. The marshmallows will soften slightly and the flavors will come together.
6. Finish and serve. If using, fold in the banana slices just before serving to prevent browning. Garnish with maraschino cherries if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 45mg