I arrived home from Orlando to discover that my people did not exactly stick to the plan I had left for them. For example, while a colleague and I were testing our trivia knowledge at Hamburger Mary’s (yes, I was forewarned that only gay men over 40 really stood a chance at winning, but I figured straight women over 40 might at least come in second), my children were not eating tostadas with black bean relish but instead eating chicken nuggets, again. But they weren’t fighting or starving, and all was well both home and away. My house is now empty of Ian’s chicken tenders but fully stocked with broccoli florets that were supposed to have gone in daily lunchboxes. So today we’ll either make an impromptu slaw or feed the compost pile. The second of these two options is more likely.
This week starts the Lenten season, so we’ll be ramping up our fish-based meals and limiting meat. We’ll also be on the wagon for 40 days, during which time I’ll be researching the best sparkling cocktail recipes to be included on our Easter brunch menu.
The only food prep note for this week, other than ones included on the menu and shopping list, is for the tomato/avocado/onion salad (Saturday night). A short story to go with this one:
I traveled to Buenos Aires for work a number of years ago. I was the only woman in the group, which the macho Argentines found amusing. For our first day, they arranged lunch for our group at a nice restaurant on the river. As they brought the first course around (sweetbreads – ick), a waitress came to ask each of us what we wanted on our salads. At least that’s what I thought she asked. She gave me a very funny look when I responded, “tomato and avocado.” The second course, blood sausage, found the same treatment from me that its predecessor received; I cut it into pieces, moved them around my plate, and ate nothing. I don’t speak Spanish, but I’m pretty sure what the men said as they observed this behavior was “women…”. The salad course arrived a few minutes before the main course, which was a whole roasted goat. Thankfully, my “salad” was an entire bowl, quart-sized, of chopped avocado and cherry tomatoes. I added a little salt and called it lunch. When I make it at home now, I include either chopped scallions or chopped white onion.
- 2 ripe avocadoes
- 2 containers of cherry or grape tomatoes (I use one red, one yellow)
- 1 bunch of scallions or one small white onion
- Lime juice
Chop the first three ingredients and stir together in a large bowl. Toss with lime juice and some kosher salt. Serve in small bowls or over a handful of fresh baby greens.