“Salad can get a bad rap. People think of bland and watery iceberg lettuce, but in fact, salads are an art form.” – Marcus Samuelsson
I made miso dressing this past week. It turned out well. I tweaked the recipe so that it had a slight sweetness to balance the umami tones. Before that it was buttermilk dressing. Growing up we had a fresh salad every night. And my mother was a stickler for homemade dressing. She favored vinaigrettes when I got older, but before that we enjoyed homemade Russian dressing, Thousand Island Dressing, Italian, and Roquefort. There was a distinct difference between her dressings and the bottled versions of Wishbone and Kraft.
The same was true of baked goods. Though my mother was a health advocate, adding up to ten vegetables in our salads, when guests were visiting or a birthday was upon us, she baked from scratch. I could tell immediately when a boxed mix was served because, once again, there was a noticeable discrepancy between completely homemade and Betty Crocker. Because our mother also taught us manners, though I was disappointed when bottled salad dressing or boxed cake was served, I simply say, “Thank you,” rather than explain the virtues of flavor from the real thing.
In short, my mother created a food snob. Now, making my own salad dressing, unless I’m simply having olive oil and vinegar, is a fact of life. I like having two on hand depending on my mood that day. And, though, like my mom, I throw in a lot of ingredients in my salad, I’ve tweaked my preferences, opting for cooked mushrooms over raw, and possibly finely-chopped, leftover roasted vegetables instead of all crunchy toppers. I Like my mother I also add fruit to my salads. Recently it’s been figs. Though in the winter, clementines are a favorite. I am so grateful to my mom that she taught me to enjoy the creative process of good salad making, and the pure enjoyment of a delicious salad dressed with homemade ingredients.
Self-Care Tips:
- Get creative with your salads. In the winter see if you can add heartier ingredients like grains or winter squash. And, if you can, create a simple homemade dressing, giving yourself a special treat.
- Try a balancing exercise. It’s great to practice balance. Even if you lift up a foot and stand on one leg, then the other, for a few seconds, it will help your brain as well as your balance.
- Simply say thank you if someone shares something with you, even if you don’t particularly like it. It’s kinder than sharing your disapproval.
The movie Funny Girl opened in 1968. I was eight years old and in Third Grade, struggling with Mrs. Mishaw, the dower educator who wore Irish wool suits and had no patience for fools. I was a dreamy fool finding solace in movies. Barbra Streisand as Fanny Brice became my hero. Fanny Brice for celebrating her kooky self, and Barbra for singing so magnificently. She was the balm for an otherwise abrasive year.
Sheep’s Meadow with the picnickers, and frisbee players is next on the left with the reopened Tavern on the Green to my right. From there I can smell Horse Manure as I pass the Handsome Cabs and their passengers. I don’t hate the odor, but it’s distinctive. By the time that ends, I’ve passed the carousel followed by the Boat House. I now have less than a mile in the park, yet by now I am hungry for milestones for the end of this run. There’s a hill, actually not quite a hill, but an ascent of some degree. But as I run through that I treasure the sight of the Still Hunt, the cougar sculpture on a cliff. And then there’s Cleopatra’s Needle just as The Metropolitan Museum rises on the east. I am simply relieved. I have a quarter mile to go in the park and that makes me giddy.
janetzinn 