Earl is better this week. Not good — "good" is a word I don't use anymore about Earl's health because it implies a destination and this is not a destination, this is a daily negotiation between his body and his stubbornness — but better. He's back in his recliner. He's back to complaining about the weather channel. He's back to telling me the tomatoes need more water when I can see perfectly well that they need more water but I let him say it because telling me what to do in the garden is the thing that makes him feel like himself.
I threw myself back into cooking this week like it was a religion, which, for me, it always has been. Monday I made a pot of greens so big it could have fed the choir. Collards from the farmers market — big beautiful leaves, dark green, the kind that look like they're made of velvet. I washed them three times because you have to, baby, you absolutely have to, or you'll be eating sand and nobody wants that. Stripped the stems, stacked the leaves, rolled them up like cigars, and cut them in ribbons. Then into the pot with smoked turkey necks — I used turkey instead of ham hock because Earl's doctor said to cut back on pork, and Earl doesn't know the difference because I season the turkey necks so well they think they're ham.
Cooked those greens for three hours. Three hours. If someone tells you they can cook collard greens in thirty minutes, they are lying to you or they are eating salad. Real collard greens need time. They need to break down and get tender and absorb all that smoky broth until they're soft and rich and taste like three generations of Black women standing at a stove telling you everything is going to be all right.
I brought a pot to the community center for the summer lunch kids. They were supposed to have hot dogs but I called the coordinator and said, "Those children are eating real food today," and she didn't argue because nobody argues with me about feeding children. Sixty-seven kids ate collard greens that day. Some of them had never had collards before. Some of them didn't like it — that's fine, collards are an acquired taste, like jazz and forgiveness. But the ones who did like it, oh, the look on their faces. The little quiet girl ate a full bowl and asked for more. I gave her more and I gave her a piece of cornbread to go with it and I thought: this is why I get up at four forty-five in the morning. This right here.
Father's Day was Sunday. I made Earl's favorites: fried catfish, hush puppies, coleslaw, and sweet potato pie. He sat at the head of the table and Denise and Robert and the kids came, and we called Earl Jr. on the phone and Patricia sent a card, and I stood in the kitchen doorway and watched my husband eat fried catfish at the table he built in the house he maintained in the life we made, and I thanked God for every stubborn, difficult, beautiful year.
The new medication seems to be helping. His color is better. He walked to the mailbox and back twice this week without stopping. Small victories, baby. That's all life is — a string of small victories between the losses.
Now go on and feed somebody.
After a week of big pots and long hours and cooking for Earl and sixty-seven children and everyone in between, I wanted to leave you with something that carries that same spirit of nourishment but comes together a little quicker — because not every day gives you three hours and a farmers market and a calling from God. These marinated green beans are the kind of side dish I bring when I need something bright and honest to set beside whatever else is on the table. Make a big bowl, let them sit and soak up all that garlic and cilantro, and bring them somewhere — to a neighbor, to a cookout, to the table where someone stubborn and beloved is sitting in his recliner. That’s all any of us can do.
Marinated Green Beans with Cilantro and Garlic
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 8 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes (includes 30 minutes marinating) | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs fresh green beans, trimmed and ends snapped
- 3 cloves garlic, minced fine
- 1/3 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
- 1 teaspoon fresh lemon zest
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for blanching water
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
Instructions
- Blanch the beans. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a rolling boil. Add the green beans and cook 4—5 minutes until bright green and crisp-tender — not soft, not raw. Taste one to be sure.
- Shock and drain. Transfer the beans immediately to a large bowl of ice water to stop the cooking and lock in that color. Let them sit 2 minutes, then drain thoroughly and pat dry with a clean towel.
- Build the marinade. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, lemon zest, lemon juice, minced garlic, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Taste it — it should be bright and a little sharp.
- Toss and marinate. Add the drained green beans and fresh cilantro to the bowl. Toss well to coat every bean. Cover and let marinate at room temperature for at least 30 minutes, or refrigerate up to 4 hours. The longer they sit, the better they get.
- Taste and serve. Before serving, taste and adjust salt and vinegar as needed. Serve at room temperature for the best flavor, piled high on a platter.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 95 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 8g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 195mg