Swift Strawberry Salad -- What the Farmers Market Knows

Fourth of July. We grilled in the backyard. James did samgyeopsal alongside the burgers. The fusion holiday cookout.

The newsletter went out Sunday morning. The opening sentence took an hour. The piece took five. The piece was what it needed to be.

Reading at night. A novel by a Korean-American writer about a family in 1990s LA. I underlined four sentences. The underlining is the marking-of-the-territory of the soul.

I read a thread on the Korean Adoptee subreddit Saturday. Some posts brought up old anger. Most are people figuring it out in real time. We are not unique. We are a community.

I sat at the kitchen counter at six AM with a notebook and a cup of green tea. Writing time before the house wakes. The pre-light hour is the only writing hour I trust.

The kimchi crock was bubbling Saturday morning when I checked. The bubbling is the right bubbling. The fermentation knew what it was doing.

David came over for Sunday dinner. He brought some tomatoes from the Bellevue garden.

James and I had date night Friday. Indian restaurant on 45th. We ate too much. We sat in the car after talking about nothing for an hour. The marriage is the marriage.

My Korean is improving. Slowly. Painfully. Conversationally adequate now. I can argue about kimchi proportions in two languages, which is a milestone in any marriage between mother and daughter.

A blog reader wrote about her own adoptee experience. We exchanged three emails this week.

Sunday farmers market on Wallingford Avenue. The kabocha at the Asian vendor's stall. The shishito peppers. The brokered conversation. We bought too much. We always do.

The Capitol Hill apartment kitchen is small. We make it work.

I texted Jisoo a photo of the kimchi in the new onggi pot. She replied with the thumb-up emoji and a Korean-language critique. The duality is the gift.

Rain on the porch all afternoon Saturday. The Wallingford rain is its own weather. I sat with a book and a tea and did not move for two hours.

Hana left a Lego on the kitchen floor. I stepped on it at two AM. Standard.

Sprint review at Amazon Friday. Two hours. I could have been on a podcast.

The shiso on the south fence is fragrant and unruly. I brushed past it taking the compost out and the smell stopped me. The smell is the country. The smell is Jisoo's apartment.

Yoga Tuesday morning at the studio. The forward fold released something I had been carrying in the shoulder. The mat is the mat.

Therapy Tuesday with Dr. Kim. We talked about the parents — the two sets, the one living, the one gone, the one who became real after thirty years and the one who was real my whole life and is now gone. The work is the layered work.

Jisoo sent a photo of the dol the kids did for our visit last summer. The photo went on the fridge.

I made coffee at seven. Hana ate cereal at seven-fifteen. Min wandered down at seven-twenty-five. James left for work at eight. The morning was the morning. The standard.

We always buy too much at the Wallingford market —that’s just the agreement James and I have made with ourselves —and this week was no exception. The kabocha came home, the shishito peppers came home, and so did a full flat of strawberries from the corner stall that I had absolutely no plan for. After a week of layered things —the subreddit thread, therapy, the novel I was underlining —I wanted something that required almost nothing of me. This salad was exactly that: precise in the way that simple things can be, honest in the way that this week asked me to be.

Swift Strawberry Salad

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 lb fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon lemon zest
• 2 tablespoons fresh mint leaves, torn
• 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper (optional)

Instructions

1. Prep the berries. Hull and slice the strawberries into halves or quarters depending on size. Place them in a medium bowl.
2. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the honey, lemon juice, and lemon zest until the honey is fully dissolved.
3. Combine. Pour the dressing over the strawberries and toss gently to coat. Let the salad rest for 5 minutes so the berries begin to release their juices.
4. Finish and serve. Scatter the torn mint leaves over the top, add a pinch of flaky sea salt, and a few cracks of black pepper if using. Serve immediately or chill for up to 30 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 72 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 75mg