And, wouldn’t you know, it’s like soup from a stone, I made it when we had “nothing to go with it.”
The above excerpt is from a May 2010 post wherein I detailed an argument with Voldemort regarding food. Looking back on it now, the food was not the reason for the argument. My unwillingness to always bend to his will was the reason for most of our arguments. But that’s not the reason I went looking for this post today.
I thought about this post while preparing my lunch this afternoon. Before I tell you about the lunch, though, I want to rewind to last night.
I got off of work and thought I was going to be shopping for some food my mother could feed my kiddos while they go out of town for two days to participate in what Luna calls a “cow wow”. The girls will be fully decked out in regalia and enjoy dancing and Native prayers. It’s a good experience for them culturally. Anyway, it turned out my helpful four year old had removed the shopping list from my purse and when I called my mother to ask for a verbal list, my mother was too distracted from the same sweet child’s rampaging fit over something or other to be able to provide me with any feedback so we resolved to do the shopping trip this morning instead (which we did).
Still at the store, hungry, tired, and knowing I would still need to feed me for the next few days even though the girls would be gone, I went looking for quick meal options that still worked with my new gallstone-friendly diet. I settled on preseasoned boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Those, I reasoned, could be a sandwich or part of a salad or served with a side of veggies or something.
After also selecting a brick of Vermont Extra Sharp Cheddar (okay, so very bad as are many dairy products for me but I love it and it’s okay in small portions). I steered the cart towards the produce section, knowing that fresh vegetables are always a better option than anything on the many other isles that I normally would have browsed.
In the produce section, I grabbed a head of green leaf lettuce (I wanted red but it all looked wilted), a bunch of parsley, some radishes, some sweet-on-the-vine mini-peppers, some leaks, and some snap peas. This was all random “oo that looks yummy” type stuff.
But this afternoon, hungry and not wanting to spend a lot of time on lunch, I combined all of the above and two poached eggs (except I don’t know if it counts as poaching when you crack them into a bowl and microwave them for two minutes…) into a bowl. I lightly drizzled (as opposed to dowsing) the whole concoction with Balsamic vinaigrette dressing and mmmmmmmmmmmm.
And this time, the world’s best salad wasn’t preceded by a fight with a disgruntled spouse, which probably added to the flavor. Salads are meant to be organic in their design. What I mean is, you don’t have to plot a salad. There’s no need to shovel specific ingredients into the bowl, and you don’t have to uproot yourself from your home and run to the store to get a forgotten item. There’s no pot to wash when you’re done, and the only dishes you will soil are your bowl and fork (and perhaps a knife).
Having run out of gardening puns, she decided to instead talk in third person and tell the readers to have a great day.