Just like that: It’s salad weather again. Oh, we had a few months of hunker-down comfort foods, of roasted root-y things and spontaneous “It’s raining!” chilis.
But here comes the sun, pulsing down on our xeriscaped yards, our bumpy piles of granite and scatters of muted desert green. We’re not to the harsh part yet, the searing, unrelenting heat. Instead, it feels almost nice, in the bright way the sun is supposed to feel when the clouds part. So far, it’s the kind of sun that makes you want to take all your meals outside, then lounge in the lounger after with a lounge-worthy read.
So, even though I know we’ll be trying to innovate salad for what will seem like a forever set of months, salad is indeed on the menu. It just seems right somehow. Right to coat baby spinach in a spoonful of walnut oil and a splash of red wine vinegar, to top the perky greens with a heap of sliced avocado and figs and dripping chunks of tangerine, with more than a suggestion of chèvre.
No, it’s not still “winter.” But the food’s good anyway.