Over the last month, there have been very few salads on our table. No, we haven't given up on the salad, but extenuating circumstances have forced us into a different pattern of eating.
I'd never given much thought to process before, but the act of making a salad can be labor-intensive. Moreover, you need the proper gear to mix, to cut, to spice, to serve, and to eat even the simplest salad. The last six weeks have been consumed by our move to Seattle. As the kitchen items were carefully protected by tissue paper and bubble wrap, and then placed judiciously into boxes, we found ourselves without the equipment to make a salad. And, working to complete the move under a very tight deadline, we began eating fast food, just to get through the meal and then get back to the task of packing the house.
On the road, we took all our meals in the car. With three cats sleeping in their makeshift row houses in the back of our VW Beetle, we didn't have much time for fine dining on the 2600 mile road trip. But, after weeks of no salads, and then eventually moving into a new apartment without any of our stuff, one realizes that a simple salad is quite a production. Our first visit to the Metropolitan Market to replenish our salad supplies filled the entire cart. True, we had to buy bowls and utensils to make the salad, since our stuff was still in transit (and would be for days to come), but even so, restocking everything, including all your olive oils, balsamic vinegars, spices, fruit, greens, was an eye-opening experience. Yes, it takes a lot of ingredients and a full compliment of gear to mix a salad, put it on a plate, and eat it.
But, after six weeks of "anything but salads," it was great to be back. There is an uplifting energy to building and enjoying a great salad, particularly after a long and difficult layoff. In the grand scheme of things, building that first salad in a new place is also the perfect way to say, "this is our home!"
