The week after midterms, which is its own recovery week. The paper got an A- with a comment from the professor that said "Strong, though next time stay closer to the law and farther from the kid." I read it three times and decided to disagree, internally, while also nodding politely in my response. The kid is the law. The law is the kid. That's the whole point. But I'll learn to write the way they want me to write. That's graduate school.
The weather finally turned. Sixty-five Tuesday, sixty-eight Wednesday, the trees on our block all popped at once like someone had flipped a switch. The twins discovered grass again, having forgotten about it all winter, and they spent two hours in the courtyard outside the apartment Saturday morning just running back and forth and laughing. I sat on the steps with a coffee and watched them and didn't look at my phone for forty-five minutes, which is, lately, a kind of meditation.
Cooking this week leaned spring. I made a pot of asparagus soup Sunday — bunch of asparagus on sale at Aldi for two dollars, an onion, a potato, broth, blend it, salt it, done. The twins were horrified by the green color. Owen asked if it was alien food. Nora ate two spoonfuls and declared it acceptable. Ryan ate three bowls. The blog post about it got fourteen comments, which is fine. Asparagus is a niche audience.
I called Stephanie from the playground on Wednesday. We met at a Starbucks Saturday morning, both of us with our twins, and we sat outside on the patio and let the four kids destroy a small radius of public space while we drank coffee and talked. She is also a teacher — third grade in Beverly. She also has a husband who works long hours. She also is tired in the same shape I am tired. We talked for ninety minutes. I came home feeling like I had eaten a real meal, which is what real friendship is, at thirty-one, with toddlers — it nourishes you the way food does, and you don't notice you were hungry until you eat it.
The soup was Ryan’s, really — three bowls’ worth of proof that simple and green can win at this table. But after Sunday’s pot was gone and Wednesday’s coffee with Stephanie had me feeling genuinely fed for the first time in weeks, I wanted to keep that spring momentum going without turning the stove back on. This tequila vinaigrette over greens is exactly the kind of thing you make when the weather hits sixty-eight and you remember that food can be bright and a little unexpected — the same way a ninety-minute conversation with the right person can be.
Tequila Vinaigrette With Greens
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 5 oz mixed spring greens (or romaine, arugula, or whatever’s in the crisper)
- 1/4 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1/4 small red onion, thinly sliced
- 1/4 cup cucumber, sliced
- 2 tablespoons silver (blanco) tequila
- 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 lime)
- 1 tablespoon honey
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1 small garlic clove, minced
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 cup olive oil
Instructions
- Make the vinaigrette. In a small bowl or jar, combine the tequila, lime juice, honey, Dijon mustard, garlic, salt, and pepper. Whisk together until the honey is fully dissolved.
- Emulsify. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil while whisking continuously, until the dressing comes together and looks slightly thickened. Taste and adjust salt or lime as needed.
- Assemble the salad. Place the greens in a large bowl. Add the cherry tomatoes, red onion, and cucumber on top.
- Dress and toss. Drizzle the vinaigrette over the greens — start with about half and add more to taste. Toss gently to coat. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 165 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 165mg