Jul
16

Salad Days.

I have to say, your comments were a tremendous relief. Between my lack of a third trimester and subsequent post-birth paranoia, I never got around to buying or reading any baby books, with the exception of my well-worn copies of 101 Potentially Crippling Disorders of Prematurity and Through the Plexi-glass: Alice’s Adventures in Wondering-whether-her-baby-will-live-Land. Normal, everyday babycare concepts remain foreign to me, and for all I knew I was supposed to be spending three hours a day alternately teaching Simone Swahili and taking her on sun-dappled walks through a nature preserve. I exaggerate, of course, but I have felt I should be getting outside for outings and spending more time rolling around on the floor with the baby while also managing to call the insurance company and buy toilet paper and eat my vegetables. Each weekend I plan to catch up on work and writing and home so that in the future I will have only the daily maintenance—a tall order in itself—to dispatch, but it never seems to happen. So it was nice to hear that I am not the only mother who feels the days rush by in a disordered clump. Even right now, knowing that Simone is happily asleep in her bassinet, I feel a little pain thinking about the fact that minutes are passing irrevocably, and shouldn’t I maybe run into the bedroom to pet her cheek a bit? In fact, I think I will.

I do not think much of the idea of holding a baby to a strict schedule, and it wasn’t so much a desire to do so that motivated that last post as my confusion about how a typical day with a two-ish month old baby unfolds, intentionally or un. These are the questions that didn’t get answered in the NICU, along with Tummy Time: how much is enough? and Why do baby socks have skid-proof bottoms?

They are happy questions to have. This afternoon, I nursed my cooing baby (THANK YOU DOMPERIDONE) after which she fell asleep in her swing while I loaded the dishwasher and wiped the counters and then settled in with my laptop to alternately type and watch her sleep, and though there was laundry on the floor and my hair was unwashed I felt I was doing exactly what I ought AND what I wanted—a rare pairing.

Breathing!

I have been trying to eat lots of fresh local produce lately, seeing as how it is Farmer’s Market season, and though I cannot hope to repay you for all you have done for me—patted my virtual head, dispensed advice, forgiven my appalling inability to return correspondence in a fashion anyone but a paleontologist would consider timely—I thought I would share a recipe I made up yesterday that turned out tastily. It is a panzanella, and it will benefit greatly from using the very best and freshest ingredients you can find because there is not much to it, and nothing to mask any deficiencies. I made it up as I went along, so I am calling it

ALEXA’S SEAT OF HER PANZANELLA

For two servings you will need:

Medium-sized container with lid
Olive oil
A nice balsamic vinegar
Dijon mustard—the fancier & stronger the better
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
The crusty ends of a loaf of good bread, torn into smallish pieces (I used a roasted garlic loaf I bought from the Farmer’s Market Bread Man, who is a sort of yeasty magician)
Tomatoes (2, roughly chopped)
Onion (1/2 of one small, diced)
Cucumber (one v. little, or 1/3 to 1/2 standard, chopped)
Olives (a handful or two, torn in half—I used Kalamata)
Pear (some, diced)
Soft goat cheese (tablespoonful)

1. Pour a bit of olive oil in your container—perhaps a couple of tablespoons.
2. Add some balsamic vinegar and a small glop of mustard.
3. Whisk.
4. Add salt and pepper, onion, and cucumber.
5. Put lid on container, shake vigorously
6. Add olives, pear, bread.
7. Shake again.
8. Add tomatoes, adjust seasoning
9. Stir or shake.
10. Stir spoonful of goat cheese throughout.
11. Transfer to pretty bowl and serve with wine.

If, like some, you are a vegan, simply omit the goat cheese. If you are a vegan who wants extra protein, add some chickpeas or pistachios or substitute soy cream cheese for the goat cheese. The goat cheese is awfully good, though, and I promise that mine is from goats who only produce milk in their spare time, when they are not playing whist or taking extension courses at the local community college.

Here is what you should end up with:
Panzanella

MMMMMMM.

By Alexa | Posted in Ceci N'est Pas Une Ecrivaine |