By Easter weekend. The family gathered at our house — Mom, Dad, Kevin's parents weren't coming this year (Dale stays close to Phyllis now, and the drive is too much). So it was the core: Mom, Dad, Kevin, three kids, and me. Seven people. The right number for the table. The right number for a ham.
The ham was glazed with apricot-Dijon, my standard Easter formula. Scalloped potatoes. Asparagus. Deviled eggs (paprika, no relish, the law persists). Mom's rolls. And a new addition this year: a strawberry spinach salad with pecans and a balsamic vinaigrette, because the farmers' market had early strawberries and I'm building my own menu alongside the tradition, adding dishes that are mine, that didn't come from a recipe card, that reflect who I'm becoming as a cook and not just who I came from.
Dad noticed the apple tree. He walked to it after dinner — slowly, deliberately, the way he walks everything now, the post-surgery pace that is slower than the man but faster than the fear. He stood under the tree and looked at the branches and the blossoms and the small hard fruits forming. He said, "What variety?" I said, "Honeycrisp." He said, "Good choice." He touched a branch. Gently. The way he used to touch the corn in the field, the way Jack touches the corn in the backyard. The touch of a person who understands that growing things are fragile and permanent at the same time.
The egg hunt was in the garden. Jack set the rules: "Stay on the paths. Don't step in the beds. Don't disturb the watermelon mound." The kids hunted eggs among corn sprouts and tomato cages and sunflower seedlings, and Dad watched from his chair and Mom stood next to him with her hand on his shoulder and the April light was gold and gentle and the garden was green and the eggs were bright and everything in the backyard was alive — the plants, the kids, the old man in the chair, the woman beside him, all of us, alive and eating and together. Easter. The oldest metaphor: things that were dead, living again.
The strawberry spinach salad I made this Easter was the dish that felt most like me — not inherited, not from a recipe card, just something I built from what the farmers’ market offered and what sounded right. Those early strawberries were so good that I kept thinking about them after dinner, wondering what else they could do. This Strawberry, Basil and Goat Cheese Panini is the answer I landed on — same bright spring energy as that salad, but pressed warm and golden, perfect for the weekend after Easter when the family lingers and the strawberries are still on the counter.
Strawberry, Basil and Goat Cheese Panini
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 8 minutes | Total Time: 18 minutes | Servings: 2
Ingredients
- 4 slices thick-cut artisan bread (sourdough or ciabatta)
- 4 oz goat cheese, softened
- 1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced thin
- 8–10 fresh basil leaves
- 1 tablespoon honey
- 1 tablespoon balsamic glaze
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, softened
- Pinch of flaky sea salt
- Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Instructions
- Prep the bread. Lay out all four bread slices on a cutting board. Spread softened butter evenly on one side of each slice — this will be the outside of the panini.
- Spread the goat cheese. Flip two slices over and spread a generous layer of softened goat cheese on the unbuttered side of each. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
- Layer the fillings. Arrange sliced strawberries over the goat cheese in a single layer. Lay 4–5 fresh basil leaves on top of the strawberries, then drizzle lightly with honey and a small amount of balsamic glaze.
- Close the sandwiches. Top each with a remaining bread slice, buttered side facing up, to form two sandwiches.
- Press and grill. Heat a panini press or cast iron skillet over medium heat. If using a skillet, add the sandwiches and press down firmly with a heavy spatula or second pan. Cook 3–4 minutes per side until the bread is deep golden and crisp and the goat cheese has softened and warmed through.
- Finish and serve. Remove from heat, let rest 1 minute, then slice diagonally. Drizzle with a final touch of balsamic glaze and a pinch of flaky salt just before serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 580mg