Simple Waldorf Salad -- The Light Lunch That Holds Its Shape

Sven and I made our morning circuit — kitchen, back hallway, front porch, lakefront walk, kitchen again, breakfast for both of us. The same circuit every day for years. The repetition is its own grace. There are people who would find such a routine unbearable, and there are people who would find it salvific. I am the second kind. The routine is the rope I hold in the dark, and the rope is what gets me from one end of a day to the other. Mamma's hands shake more than they did last month. I do not point it out. I notice. I notice everything. The shake is small — barely visible when she is at rest, more visible when she lifts her coffee cup, most visible when she is trying to thread a needle. She still threads needles. She still bakes. She still calls me on Tuesdays at 10. The hands shake. The shaking does not stop the doing. The doing is what Mamma is. Karin and I talked Sunday. Stockholm in winter is dark. Duluth in winter is dark. We compared darknesses. We laughed. Karin said: "Linda, do you remember the time Pappa drove us to Two Harbors in a blizzard because Mamma wanted lutefisk?" I said yes. The story unspooled across the phone for twenty minutes. I had forgotten half of it. Karin remembered all of it. The memory was, briefly, complete between us. I cooked Spring greens with vinaigrette this week. Mixed greens from the farmers' market, radishes, cucumber, fresh herbs. Mustard vinaigrette. Light lunch. Damiano Thursday. A teenage boy came in alone. He was hungry. He did not want to make eye contact. I served him soup. I did not make small talk. He ate two bowls. He left. The not-asking was the gift. The not-asking is sometimes the right form of attention. The teenagers know. The kitchen is the reliquary. I have used this word in the blog before. I am using it again because it is the right word. A reliquary is the container that holds the bones of the saints. The kitchen holds the bones of my saints — Pappa, Lars, Mamma, Paul, Erik, the first Sven, the second Sven. The bones are not literal bones. The bones are the marble slab and the bread pans and the glasses on the shelf and the wooden spoon worn smooth by Mamma's hand. The kitchen holds them. The kitchen is what holds them. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. Sven (whichever Sven I am living with at the moment) has the daily distinction of being the most consistent presence in my life. He follows me from kitchen to porch to bedroom. He sleeps within ten feet of me at all times. He notices when I am sad and he comes to put his head on my knee and the head is heavy and warm and the heaviness is the comfort. The dog is not a person. The dog is the only creature in the house, however, and the dog does the work that another person would do if there were one. The dog is enough. It is enough.

The farmers’ market radishes and cucumber were already on the counter that week — and what I wanted was something that held together without effort, something that had structure without being heavy. A Waldorf salad has that quality. It is not a recipe that asks you to perform anything. The greens, the apple, the walnuts, the light dressing — each element present and accounted for, the way the wooden spoon is present on its hook, the way the bread pans are present on the shelf. The kitchen held me that week, and this salad was the meal the kitchen offered back.

Simple Waldorf Salad

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 5 oz mixed spring greens
• 2 stalks celery, thinly sliced
• 1 large crisp apple (such as Honeycrisp or Fuji), cored and chopped
• 1/2 cup walnut halves, roughly chopped
• 1/2 cup red or green grapes, halved
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise or plain Greek yogurt
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1 teaspoon honey
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Instructions

1. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise (or Greek yogurt), lemon juice, Dijon mustard, and honey until smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.
2. Prepare the salad base. Place the mixed spring greens in a large serving bowl. Scatter the celery, apple, grapes, and walnuts evenly over the top.
3. Dress and toss. Drizzle the dressing over the salad. Toss gently to coat, or serve the dressing on the side if you prefer.
4. Serve immediately. Divide among plates and serve as a light lunch or a side alongside soup or bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 17g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 140mg