What I've Been Eating

I don't think I have ever moved in Winter. My moves have always been marked by the school calendar-- a flurry of finals, rapidly moving, and then, enjoying a bit of summer vacation. And I guess that since I have married an academic, this is the way that our moves will always be. It works out fine, we managed this move with only a few bruises from bumping into boxes of books, and more than a few towels have been used to mop our sweaty brows.

The hardest thing for me to move is, of course, the kitchen. There are pots and pans, bake ware, popsicle molds, utensils, my fondue pot, to name just a few from the laundry list of items. Naturally, those all get packed up. (You never know just when that fondue pot will come in handy!) But then there are those spices-- the staining turmeric, smoky cumin, the last few shakes of warm cinnamon, and the vials of sauces-- the fermented black beans which I can't remember when last they were used, the fish sauce, its fragrance so briny, and its flavor so bold. "Such a waste, I am a wasteful human being!" I proclaim while emptying the contents down the drain.

And then I stand just a few days later, in front of new, empty refrigerator, and a pantry that is so barren the dust bunnies roll around like tumbleweeds. I buy just what is needed for awhile: a jar of Dijon mustard, dark balsamic and gleaming white wine vinegars, olive oil; my peppermill and my salt cellar are ready to be put to use. I praise the summer, with its abundance of produce, and its warm air blanketing the kitchen, making me want to assemble dishes rather than cook them. Like so...

I could eat this numerous times...and do. The quintessential summer salad, a shortened Greek salad of diced tomatoes and cucumber, fresh minced dill, a sprinkling of crumbled feta cheese, a squeeze of lemon, and a drizzle of olive oil. Put this salad on crisp, thin, rye crackers, and you have a beautiful midday meal.

Salad again-- but in the summer there is nothing I would rather eat. This one features grilled figs, lending a smoky flavor to an otherwise sweet fruit, with some baby arugula. Tossed in a simple Dijon vinaigrette, this was the perfect accompaniment to have with plump chicken-apple sausage.

Now that the move has decimated ingredients from one kitchen, it has forced me to simplify and to be inventive in another kitchen. It really is amazing what can be made with just a handful of ingredients, and a little bit of care. Who knows when things will get back to spice quo in my house, but as long as summer is here, with her truncated meals, I really don't mind.