Toss Salad Quotes

There are random moments - tossing a salad, coming up the driveway to the house, ironing the seams flat on a quilt square, standing at the kitchen window and looking out at the delphiniums, hearing a burst of laughter from one of my children's rooms - when I feel a wavelike rush of joy. This is my true religion: arbitrary moments of of nearly painful happiness for a life I feel privileged to lead.

Ambien might have mentally just tossed my salad. WITH CROUTONS.

I thought this was a cookout. You know, dogs and burgers, Tater Tots, ambrosia salad" Dexter picked up a box of Twinkies, tossing them into the cart. "And Twinkies." "It is,"..."Except that it's a cookout thrown by my mother." "And?" "And my mother doesn't cook." He looked at me waiting. "At all. My mother doesn't cook at all." "She must cook sometimes." "Nope." "Everyone can make scrambled eggs, Remy. It's programmed into you at birth, the default setting. Like being able to swim and knowing not to mix pickles with oatmeal. You just KNOW.

Queens, New York. The most ethnically diverse region not just in the United States, but on the entire planet... In Queens, you will find Korean kids who sound like black kids. Italians who sound like Puerto Ricans. Puerto Ricans who sound like Italians. Third-generation Irish who sound like old Jews. That's Queens. Not a melting pot, not even a tossed salad, but an all-you-can-eat, mix-and-match buffet.

Look, I'm sick. It's early. Don't tick me off or I'll toss your salad.” He stopped short, and I could tell he wanted to gape at me, but was too tired to bother. “Whatever could that phrase mean, my darling?” I shrugged. “Heard it in a movie once. It's something they do to each other in prison, so it's gotta be bad.

Celery, apples, golden raisins, lemon zest, and a sour cream–mayo dressing flavored the chicken salad, while the crusty bread provided crunch and contrast. I alternated with bites of my strawberry-and-kiwi fruit salad, tossed with lime juice, vanilla, and just a hint of honey.

Bean Throwing Day (Japan): Usually February 3 or q,. A day to toss away your bad luck and welcome good fortune. Try making a bean salad, then plant at least one of the beans in the earth near your home for providence all year. So

I don’t know why I got tossed into this shit, but they need to take me out of this fucked-up salad of depravity; I don’t belong here. I belong in a salad full of fruits and vegetables. Healthy things that don’t run me off the road and enslave me.

Adrienne ate her steak, the béarnaise, the garlicky fries- did she even need to say it? It was steak frites from a rainy-day-in-Paris dream. The steak was perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked, pink in the middle, juicy, tender. The salad was tossed in a lemony vinaigrette but it tasted so green, so young and fresh, that Adrienne began to worry. This person Fiona had a way. If the staff meal tasted this good then the woman was possessed, and Adrienne didn't want a possessed woman on her case.

Well, you know what I always say.” I smirk. “When you’re here, you’re family.” “That’s Olive Garden,” he chortles. “Mhm, and you can eat my breadstick and toss my salad as much as you want.

Tomato Salad — SERVES 4 — 8 small ripe tomatoes (quartered or halved, depending upon their size) 1 garlic clove, halved A glug of EVOO A small handful of basil leaves, torn A splash of red wine vinegar (optional) Coarse salt Place the cut tomatoes in a bowl with the garlic, olive oil, basil, and vinegar, if using. Toss. Salt a few minutes before serving. (Adding it too soon will draw the water out of the tomatoes and dilute the dish.)

This morning he cut up cubes of watermelon and honeydew, sliced an apple and a peach, tossed in a few red grapes. He drizzled the whole with honey and a spoonful of brandy. Macédoine, they called such a salad in Germany: from Macedonia, that volatile Balkan mix.

Baggage included a tossed salad of books as well as hundreds of the more usual film spools. The entire family, save the twins, tended to be old-fashioned about books; they liked books with covers, volumes one could hold in the lap. Film spools were not quite the same.

Hummus is quick and easy to make. Puree canned garbanzo beans with chopped garlic and olive oil. Bean salads are fast to make. Toss different varieties together for a colorful salad with some fresh herbs and olive oil. Baked beans count, too! Buy or make them without too much

I'm the 'walks on the beach, toss all the leftovers into a salad, fall asleep reading' kind of girl." I spread my hands out in front of me as if our answer was as plain as day. "We'll walk on the beach and eat salads and read until you let me fuck you again, and then we'll fall asleep. Be ready.

I wanted to rest my eyes on green meadows. I wanted to sit on green grass under the shade of a green tree. I wanted to eat cool green salads. I longed for arugula tossed with olive oil and parmesan, for asparagus tips dripping with melted butter, for a salad of sweet and bitter green leaves. Most of all, I longed for fish and parsley soup.

We make the beet salad by steaming the beets until soft, about thirty minutes, plunging into cold water, and removing the skins. After cutting the beets into small cubes, we toss them with a vinaigrette of orange juice, vinegar, olive oil, and shallots, adding crumbles of goat cheese and green onion, for color and taste and crunch, at the end.

Kat happened to get a spot in the cafeteria line-up just behind the young woman lawyer who presented the case against her grandfather. She had removed her black robe too, and Kat found her much less threatening in her cream coloured jacket and trousers. The woman grabbed a carton of milk and then a tossed salad from behind the Plexiglas door. "Stay clear of the noodle soup," she said to Kat pleasantly. "It's vile." Kat smiled back at her. How odd that this woman could be so nice. It must all be in a day's work for her to tear apart and impoverish families. Kat grabbed some red Jell-O and a carton of orange juice for herself. She didn't really feel like eating: she was just going through the motions.

The light sesame ginger dressing goes perfectly with this Asian-inspired salad. 2 cups shredded romaine lettuce 1 cup shredded cabbage 2 scallions, finely chopped 1 large carrot, shredded or finely chopped 1 handful cilantro, chopped 1/2 avocado, pitted and chopped 2 cups shredded chicken 1/4 cup peanuts, roughly chopped, for serving LIGHT SESAME GINGER DRESSING 3 tablespoons sesame oil 1 teaspoon soy sauce 3 tablespoons rice vinegar 1 tablespoon honey 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds 11/2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and minced 1. In a large bowl, combine all the salad ingredients. 2. In a small bowl, combine all dressing ingredients and whisk thoroughly. 3. Toss the salad with the dressing or leave the dressing on the side. 4. Sprinkle with peanuts.

Who looks at a woman’s elbows, you sick fuck?” “I’m just saying it’s the one place that a woman can’t hide her age. My wife told me. She lemons hers sometimes. Cuts a lemon in half, hollows it out, fills it with olive oil and kosher salt and sits at her vanity, arms up like a little bunny.” Lenhardt demonstrated the pose. “I tell you, Kevin, it’s like going to bed with a fucking tossed salad.

Can’t. I’m tossing the salad.” Wade shakes his head as soon as the words leave his mouth while he mixes the salad. “Yeah, Wade’s the best at tossing salad. Maybe even the best in the whole county.” Cole chuckles as he pops a crouton into his mouth. “You know, come to think of it, I have heard around town that he tosses a mean salad,” I say. Papa Dean winks, waving his handful of cutlery at Wade. “That only comes with lots of practice like my fingering.

BACKYARD GARDEN SALAD In wartime, patriotic families cultivated “Victory Gardens” to promote self-sufficiency and help the war effort. 4 cups mixed greens 1/4 cup fresh sprigs of dill 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves 4 large basil leaves, rolled up and thinly sliced crosswise 1 large lemon, halved 1/4 cup fruity olive oil pinch of salt fresh ground black pepper to taste 1 cup toasted walnuts 3/4 cup crumbled feta cheese 1 cup fresh edible flowers; choose from bachelor’s buttons, borage, calendulas, carnations, herb flowers (basil, chives, rosemary, thyme), nasturtiums, violas, including pansies and Johnny-jump-ups, stock Toss salad greens and herbs in a large bowl. Squeeze lemon juice (without the seeds) over the greens and season with olive oil, salt and pepper. Toss again. Add walnuts and feta and toss well. Divide salad and pansies among four serving plates and serve. (Source: Adapted from California Bountiful)

...And indeed it did take me a long time for me to find someone I wanted to marry. But I'm so glad I waited. What I know about Pete and me is that the flame will never go out. I do not look up from tossing the salad and think, Oh, God, how the hell did I ever get here? I do not look a the back of his head and think, I don't know you at all. I wake up with my pal, and go to sleep with my lover. He still thrills me, not only sexually but because of the way he regards the life that unfolds around him. I am interested in what he says about me and the children and our respective jobs, but I am also interested in what he says about the Middle East and the migratory patterns of monarchs and the amount of nutmeg that should be grated into the mashed potatoes and the impact that being a thwarted artist had on the life of Hitler. I believe he is a truly honest and awake and kind individual. If we live more than once, I want to find him again.

As for the linguine alla cecca, it’s a hot pasta with a cold tomato and basil sauce, and it’s so light and delicate that it’s almost like eating a salad. It has to be made in the summer, when tomatoes are fresh. Drop 5 large tomatoes into boiling water for one full minute. Peel and seed and chop. Put into a large bowl with ½ cup olive oil, a garlic clove sliced in two, 1 cup chopped fresh basil leaves, salt and hot red pepper flakes. Let sit for a couple of hours, then remove the garlic. Boil one pound of linguine, drain and toss with the cold tomato mixture. Serve immediately.

Now, back to Sapporo-ya. The place is deep enough below street level that the windows let in no natural light; harsh fluorescent lamps made everyone look ill. The walls are greenish-yellow. If you are directing a modern adaptation of The Divine Comedy, shoot the purgatory scenes here. The waitress set down my hiyashi chūka goma dare (sesame sauce). It was in every way the opposite of its surroundings: colorful, artfully presented, sweated over. The tangle of yellow noodles was served in a shallow blue-and-white bowl and topped with daikon, pickled ginger, roast pork, bamboo shoots, tomato, shredded nori, cucumber, bean sprouts, half a hard-boiled egg, and Japanese mustard. It was almost too pretty to ruin by tossing it together with chopsticks.

In summer, most ramen restaurants in Tokyo serve hiyashi chūka, a cold ramen noodle salad topped with strips of ham, cucumber, and omelet; a tart sesame- or soy-based sauce; and sometimes other vegetables, like a tomato wedge or sheets of wakame seaweed. The vegetables are arranged in piles of parallel shreds radiating from the center to the edge of the plate like bicycle spokes, and you toss everything together before eating. It's bracing, ice-cold, addictive- summer food from the days before air conditioning. In Oishinbo: Ramen and Gyōza, a young lifestyle reporter wants to write an article about hiyashi chūka. "I'm not interested in something like hiyashi chūka," says my alter ego Yamaoka. It's a fake Chinese dish made with cheap industrial ingredients, he explains. Later, however, Yamaoka relents. "Cold noodles, cold soup, and cold toppings," he muses. "The idea of trying to make a good dish out of them is a valid one." Good point, jerk. He mills organic wheat into flour and hires a Chinese chef to make the noodles. He buys a farmyard chicken from an old woman to make the stock and seasons it with the finest Japanese vinegar, soy sauce, and sake. Yamaoka's mean old dad Kaibara Yūzan inevitably gets involved and makes an even better hiyashi chūka by substituting the finest Chinese vinegar, soy sauce, and rice wine. When I first read this, I enjoyed trying to follow the heated argument over this dish I'd never even heard of. Yamaoka and Kaibara are in total agreement that hiyashi chūka needs to be made with quality ingredients, but they disagree about what kind of dish it is: Chinese, Japanese, or somewhere in between? Unlike American food, Japanese cuisine has boundary issues.

The phrase “gracious host” rolls off the tongue. We all know what it is to be one. What it means to guest with grace is trickier, because it’s not what it might seem. A good guest, we think, is an easy guest. A considerate one. She arrives on time with a bottle of wine or maybe a gift, some chocolate or homemade jam. She asks what she can do. She wants to help. She insists. What these best of intentions miss is the most basic thing of all: that a good guest allows herself to be hosted. That means saying, “yes, please,” when you’re offered a cup of tea, instead of rushing to get it yourself. It means staying in your chair, enjoying good company and your first glass of wine while your host ladles soup into bowls. If your host wants to dress the salad herself and toss it the way she knows how, let her, because a host is delighted to serve. To allow her to take care of you is to allow your host her generosity. I’d always been too distracted by my own desire to be useful to understand this. I got it now.

Even though Jasmine was supposed to try Marcella's Stone Plum Soup tonight, she pulled at her baking cupboard. She wanted chocolate. She wanted oozing, rich, creamy, comforting chocolate. She would throw chops on the grill and toss a salad for dinner. Tonight, she was going to concentrate her efforts on dessert. She pulled out her big bowl and mixer. She took down blocks of chocolate, vanilla, sugar. Poked her head into the refrigerator to count the eggs. Ten. Just enough. Her mouth watered, her tongue repeatedly swallowing the swamp that had become her mouth. Cream? A pint poked from behind the mayonnaise. She smelled it. One day to spare. She padded to the liquor cabinet and examined her choices. Brandy, amaretto, Grand Marnier. Mmm, yes. Grand Marnier, a subtle orange swirl. The chocolate and butter wobbled over the heat of the double boiler. Unctuous and smooth. Jasmine beat the eggs and sugar until lemony light. She poured in the chocolate in a long professional sweep. A few deft turns of the spatula turned the mixture into what she really craved. She stood over the bowl tasting slabs of it from the spatula. A good dash of Grand Marnier. Another taste. And another. She had to discard a number of egg whites to fit with the reduced mixture. She finally tipped the glossy beaten whites into the chocolate.

Over the next two hours, we sampled from cheese plates, charcuterie platters, salads, roasted vegetables, tarts, and two risottos. I knew we were nowhere near done, but I was glad I'd worn a stretchy, forgiving dress. Next came the pastas, spring vegetables tossed with prawns and cavatappi, a beautiful macaroni and cheese, and a lasagna with duck ragù. It didn't end there---Chloé began to bring out the meats---a beautiful pork loin in a hazelnut cream sauce, a charming piece of bone-in chicken breast coated in cornflakes, a peppery filet mignon, and a generous slice of meat loaf with a tangy glaze. My favorite was the duck in marionberry sauce---the skin had been rubbed with an intoxicating blend of spices, the meat finished with a sweet, tangy sauce. It tasted like summer and Oregon all at once. We planned to open in mid-August, so the duck with fresh berries would be a perfect item for the opening menu. While I took measured bites from most of the plates, I kept the duck near and continued to enjoy the complex flavors offered by the spices and berry. Next came the desserts, which Clementine brought out herself. She presented miniatures of her pastry offerings---a two-bite strawberry shortcake with rose liqueur-spiked whipped cream, a peach-and-brown-sugar bread pudding served on the end of a spoon, a dark chocolate torte with a hint of cinnamon, and a trio of melon ball-sized scoops of gelato.

ROASTED BEET AND QUINOA SALAD When beets are bad, they are really fucking gross. But roasted, these mother fuckers get sweet and delicious. Trust. MAKES ENOUGH FOR 4 AS A SIDE DRESSING 1 shallot or small onion, diced (about 2 tablespoons) 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard 3 tablespoons white wine, balsamic, or champagne vinegar ¼ cup olive oil SALAD 3 medium beets, peeled and chopped into small chunks (about 1½ cups) 1 teaspoon of whatever vinegar you used for the dressing 2 teaspoons olive oil Salt and ground pepper 2 cups water 1 cup quinoa, rinsed 1 cup kale, stems removed, sliced into thin strips ¼ cup diced fresh herbs* 1 Crank your oven to 400°F. Grab a rimmed baking sheet and have it on standby. 2 Make the dressing: Pour all the ingredients together in a jar and shake that shit up. 3 For the salad: In a medium bowl, toss the beets together with the vinegar, olive oil, and a pinch of salt. Your hands might get kinda red and bloody looking from the beets. Don’t worry about that shit; it will wash off, so quit complaining. Pour the mixture onto the baking sheet and roast for 20 minutes, stirring the beets halfway through. 4 While the beets roast up, bring the water to a boil in a medium pot. Add the quinoa. Once that shit starts boiling again, cover, and adjust the heat to low. Cook the quinoa at a slow simmer until it is tender, about 15 minutes. Just taste it and you’ll figure that shit out. Drain any extra water that remains in the pot and scoop the quinoa into a medium bowl. Fold the kale into the hot quinoa and then add the dressing. Add the fresh herb of your choice and mix well. 5 When the beets are done, fold those ruby red bitches right in to the quinoa. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve this salad at room temperature or refrigerate until cold. * Dill, basil, and parsley all work well here. Use whichever of those you’ve got hanging out in the fridge

The store smells of roasted chicken and freshly ground coffee, raw meat and ripening stone fruit, the lemon detergent they use to scrub the old sheet-linoleum floors. I inhale and feel the smile form on my face. It's been so long since I've been inside any market other than Fred Meyer, which smells of plastic and the thousands of people who pass through every day. By instinct, I head for the produce section. There, the close quarters of slim Ichiban eggplant, baby bok choy, brilliant red chard, chartreuse-and-purple asparagus, sends me into paroxysms of delight. I'm glad the store is nearly empty; I'm oohing and aahing with produce lust at the colors, the smooth, shiny textures set against frilly leaves. I fondle the palm-size plums, the soft fuzz of the peaches. And the berries! It's berry season, and seven varieties spill from green cardboard containers: the ubiquitous Oregon marionberry, red raspberry, and blackberry, of course, but next to them are blueberries, loganberries, and gorgeous golden raspberries. I pluck one from a container, fat and slightly past firm, and pop it into my mouth. The sweet explosion of flavor so familiar, but like something too long forgotten. I load two pints into my basket. The asparagus has me intrigued. Maybe I could roast it with olive oil and fresh herbs, like the sprigs of rosemary and oregano poking out of the salad display, and some good sea salt. And salad. Baby greens tossed with lemon-infused olive oil and a sprinkle of vinegar. Why haven't I eaten a salad in so long? I'll choose a soft, mild French cheese from the deli case, have it for an hors d'oeuvre with a beautiful glass of sparkling Prosecco, say, then roast a tiny chunk of spring lamb that I'm sure the nice sister will cut for me, and complement it with a crusty baguette and roasted asparagus, followed by the salad. Followed by more cheese and berries for dessert. And a fruity Willamette Valley Pinot Noir to wash it all down. My idea of eating heaven, a French-influenced feast that reminds me of the way I always thought my life would be.

Areli kicked her dragon upwards and followed Aquilina and Fides through the lanterns and rock, out into clean mountain air. Aquilina had picked only the two, whom she said were hands down the greatest riders on the team, to ride with her. Areli didn’t know how to respond to that, except to turn red and cover her mouth with surprise. And now she was flying, not in an arena, but in free air, a privilege given to only the best professional riders. They flew over the city. The buildings looked like small blocks and the carriages looked like gold-colored ants roaming about. The sweep of the cool air was refreshing against Areli’s face. They flew over the trees leading to Emperor Abhiraja’s forest, which looked like nothing but a tossed salad from their view. And then they were over Emperor Abhiraja’s trees. Back at the boarding facility, before they left, Aquilina told them there was only one rule if they were to ride with her . . . keep up. Aquilina veered down towards the trees. Fides took after her and Areli followed. Areli sat hard into her seat and pulled the reins to her right. She leaned her leg into Kaia’s left shoulder and held on tight to the saddle horn. Kaia leaned her body and they knifed through the air. Areli shifted her legs and hands, chasing after Fides and Aquilina. They slipped through a tiny gap in the tops of the massive trees. Areli saw the red of Fidelja’s dragon ahead of her, and then it disappeared. She saw shades of brown and green coming up fast. Areli pulled on the reins, keeping her hands light, and sunk into the seat, leveling off their descent into the forest. She immediately started kicking Kaia forward as she saw Fides dragon’s tail wrap past a tree. Areli commanded Kaia in a way she never had before. Using every skill she ever learned, she cued Kaia right, then left, then into a roll to get through two narrowly placed trees, and then up, always following the blur of red in front of her. They came out above the trees again and then they swooped back down. This time it was into the Columns of Abhi. They curved around the large rock structures like a knife full of butter caressing a freshly baked roll. Areli didn’t think she could feel this exhilarated. But there was something utterly breathtaking about flying without walls, without spectators or trainers. This was true freedom, according to Areli. Freedom from homework, freedom from fears, freedom from worries. This was the place where she could be . . . just to be.

despite the variety of ingredients and the imagination with which Vermont cooks use them, the state remains strongly associated with several iconic products — think cheddar cheese (really, dairy products in general), apples and cider, and maple syrup. Here’s a brunch menu to commemorate Vermont’s anniversary that includes those tried-and-true flavors — cheddar in the quiche, maple syrup in the salad’s vinaigrette, and apple cider in the muffins, which recall fried cider doughnuts, with a thick cinnamon-sugar coating. Their crumb is a little denser than some other muffins, and their profile a bit more compact. Cheddar, Bacon, and Caramelized Onion Quiche Makes 1 quiche 6 slices bacon, cut into ¼-inch pieces, fried until crisp and the fat has rendered, drained, and 1½ tablespoons fat reserved 3 medium onions (about 1 ¼ pounds), thinly sliced (about 6 cups) Salt and black pepper 1½ tablespoons minced fresh sage ¼ teaspoon balsamic vinegar 3 large eggs 1 cup half-and-half Pinch cayenne pepper 2 cups coarsely grated medium or sharp cheddar 1 9-inch pie shell, blind-baked until lightly browned and warm In a large skillet over medium-high heat, heat the bacon fat until hot. Add onions and 1 teaspoon salt, toss to coat, and cook until they begin to soften and release liquid, about 6 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low and continue cooking, stirring and scraping the bottom of the skillet every 10 minutes (and adjusting the heat if the onions begin to scorch or are not browning), until the onions are sticky and caramelized, about 1 hour longer (you will have about 1 cup). Add the sage, vinegar, and 1½ tablespoons water, and with a wooden spoon, scrape bottom of pan to dissolve the fond, about 30 seconds; set aside to cool briefly. With the rack in middle position, heat the oven to 375 degrees. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs, half-and-half, cayenne, 1¾ cups cheese, and ¾ teaspoon each salt and black pepper to combine thoroughly. Spread caramelized onions in an even layer in the warm, pre-baked pie shell. Sprinkle bacon evenly over the onions, place pie shell on the oven rack, and pour in the custard mixture (it should reach to about ½ inch beneath the rim of the pie shell). Sprinkle the remaining ¼ cup cheese over custard mixture and bake until custard is set, light golden brown, center wiggles slightly when you jiggle the quiche, and the tip of a knife inserted about 1½ inches from the edge comes out clean, 35 to 40 minutes. Cool on a wire rack and serve barely warm or at room temperature.

BENFORD’S THAI CHICKEN SALAD (LARB GAI) Finely hand-chop lean chicken breasts with a large knife or cleaver. Season with lime juice and rice wine and sauté until crumbly and white. Let chicken cool and fold in lemongrass, diced garlic, diced chilies, lemon zest, fish sauce, salt, and pepper. Incorporate well. Add chopped cilantro, basil, mint, and scallions. Toss well; serve in lettuce cups with rice.

AUNT CAROL’S CRUNCHY SALAD Salad         2 tablespoons butter         1 package ramen noodles (like the $.13 package)         ½ cup or so of chopped almonds         Handful of sunflower seeds         4 to 6 cups sturdy lettuce (I like romaine)         2 cups or so of chopped broccoli         Some chopped green onions         You can add any crunchy thing: carrots, radishes, snap peas, cabbage Melt the butter in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the uncooked ramen noodles (break them all up), almonds, and sunflower seeds, and saute until toasted light brown. Maybe 3 to 4 minutes. Let cool. Pour the dressing (recipe below) into the bottom of your salad bowl. Add the lettuce, broccoli, green onions, and toasted crunch mix. Toss when ready to serve. Vinaigrette         4 tablespoons brown sugar         1 teaspoon salt         6 tablespoons rice wine vinegar         2 to 3 drops Tabasco         ½ cup oil (olive, sunflower, walnut, whatever oil you like. Aunt Carol uses canola oil, so no need to get trendy) Mix all the vinaigrette ingredients with a whisk (or just shake this all together in a mason jar if you want to control the quantity or make extra). This is so good. Cannot deal. Add chicken or shrimp, and it is a whole meal. This is a doldrum fixer. I’m so

BLOKHIN’S KOREAN BARBECUED RIBS Rinse flanken-style ribs in cold water. In a separate bowl, mix soy sauce, brown sugar, rice wine, sesame oil, black pepper, and cayenne. Combine onion, garlic, pears, and ginger, and process to a smooth purée, then add to the soy mixture. Add toasted sesame seeds and a splash of water to thin. Pour marinade over ribs and toss to cover. Chill overnight, then bring to room temperature and discard marinade. Grill or broil until caramelized. Serve on lettuce leaves with ssamjang paste, pickled peppers, kimchi, cucumber salad, and steamed rice.

While Mrs. Hisa steeped fresh fava beans in sugar syrup, Stephen dry-fried baby chartreuse peppers. I made a salad of crunchy green algae and meaty bonito fish cubes tossed with a bracing blend of soy and ginger juice. Mrs. Hisa created a tiny tumble of Japanese fiddleheads mixed with soy, rice vinegar, and salted baby fish. For the horse mackerel sushi, Stephen skinned and boned several large sardine-like fillets and cut them into thick slices along the bias. I made the vinegared rice and then we all made the nigiri sushi. After forming the rice into triangles, we topped each one with a slice of bamboo grass, as if folding a flag. Last, we made the wanmori, the heart of the tenshin. In the center of a black lacquer bowl we placed a succulent chunk of salmon trout and skinned kabocha pumpkin, both of which we had braised in an aromatic blend of dashi, sake, and sweet cooking wine. Then we slipped in two blanched snow peas and surrounded the ingredients with a bit of dashi, which we had seasoned with soy to attain the perfect whiskey color, then lightly salted to round out the flavor. Using our teacher's finished tenshin as a model, we arranged most of the dishes on three polished black lacquer rectangles, first lightly spraying them with water to suggest spring rain. Then we actually sat down and ate the meal. To my surprise, the leaf-wrapped sushi, the silky charred peppers, candied fava beans, and slippery algae did taste cool and green.

Snacks at sleepovers are a must. Try this one next time your parents forget to stock the snack cupboard. Supplies: brown paper lunch bag stapler measuring cup microwave Ingredients: ¼ cup popcorn kernels 2 tbsp brown sugar 2 tbsp chocolate chips 2 tbsp butter or margarine pinch of salt Pour the popcorn kernels into a brown paper lunch bag then fold the top of the bag ¼ of an inch, twice. Secure two staples (trust me, I Googled it!) at the folded part to seal the bag shut. Lay the bag flat in the microwave and cook on HIGH for about 1:45 (one minute and forty-five seconds, people!). Each microwave is different, though, so you may need to adjust the time. Meanwhile, add the brown sugar, chocolate chips, butter/margarine and salt to a microwave-safe measuring cup. Cook on HIGH for about 15 seconds or until the gooey buttery-chocolaty mixture is melted. Mix well with a fork then pour it over the popcorn. Toss like a salad and ENJOY!

I started in our neighborhood, buying a pastrami burrito at Oki Dog and a deluxe gardenburger at Astro Burger and matzoh-ball soup at Greenblatt's and some greasy egg rolls at the Formosa. In part funny, and rigid, and sleepy, and angry. People. Then I made concentric circles outward, reaching first to Canter's and Pink's, then rippling farther, tofu at Yabu and mole at Alegria and sugok at Marouch; the sweet-corn salad at Casbah in Silver Lake and Rae's charbroiled burgers on Pico and the garlicky hummus at Carousel in Glendale. I ate an enormous range of food, and mood. Many favorites showed up- families who had traveled far and whose dishes were steeped with the trials of passageways. An Iranian cafe near Ohio and Westwood had such a rich grief in the lamb shank that I could eat it all without doing any of my tricks- side of the mouth, ingredient tracking, fast-chew and swallow. Being there was like having a good cry, the clearing of the air after weight has been held. I asked the waiter if I could thank the chef, and he led me to the back, where a very ordinary-looking woman with gray hair in a practical layered cut tossed translucent onions in a fry pan and shook my hand. Her face was steady, faintly sweaty from the warmth of the kitchen. Glad you liked it, she said, as she added a pinch of saffron to the pan. Old family recipe, she said. No trembling in her voice, no tears streaking down her face.

Salad on a Stick The big selling point of this salad is that it’s F-U-N, fun! I mean, sure…it might be just as easy (okay, easier) to throw salad ingredients into a bowl and toss them with the dressing. But I ask you: What mark are we trying to make here on the world, people?!? Are we men or are we mice? Are we bold and courageous or are we standard and predictable?!? I think you need to spend some time taking a good, hard look at yourself and evaluating whether or not you really want to be here!!!!!! Sorry. I sound like a high school football coach.

The most popular Mediterranean tomato salad, found from Spain to Turkey, is a combination of roughly cut chunks of tomato tossed in a bowl with small pieces of sweet onion (a red salad onion will do nicely, although a specialty onion like the Vidalia is a special treat here), dressed with a good fruity olive oil and some freshly squeezed lemon (or lime) juice, and that grinding of pepper. This, too, should be put aside for an hour or so to let the flavors mingle … and salted only at the last moment.

Orange Sesame Dressing Serves: 3 4 tablespoons unhulled sesame seeds, divided ¼ cup raw cashew nuts or ⅛ cup raw cashew butter 2 navel oranges, peeled 2 tablespoons Blood Orange Vinegar*, Riesling Reserve Vinegar*, or white wine vinegar Toast the sesame seeds in a dry skillet over medium-high heat for 3 minutes, mixing with a wooden spoon and shaking the pan frequently. In a high-powered blender, combine 2 tablespoons of the sesame seeds, cashews, oranges, and vinegar. If needed, add orange juice for a thinner consistency. Sprinkle remaining sesame seeds on top of the salad. Serving Suggestion: Toss with mixed greens, tomatoes, red onions, and additional diced oranges or kiwi. PER SERVING: CALORIES 162; PROTEIN 5g; CARBOHYDRATE 17g; TOTAL FAT 9.6g; SATURATED FAT 1.5g; SODIUM 4mg; FIBER 3.5g; BETA-CAROTENE 82mcg; VITAMIN C 55mg; CALCIUM 133mg; IRON 2.2mg; FOLATE 43mcg; MAGNESIUM 76mg; ZINC 1.4mg; SELENIUM 5.4mcg

Broccoli and Chickpea Salad Serves: 4 For the Salad: 6 cups broccoli, cut into small florets 1½ cups cooked chickpeas or 1 (15-ounce) can no-salt-added or low-sodium chickpeas, drained ¼ cup chopped red onion 1½ cups halved cherry tomatoes ¼ cup pine nuts or walnuts, toasted For the Dressing: ¼ cup fresh lemon juice ½ cup water ¼ cup walnuts ¼ cup pitted and chopped dates 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard 1 clove garlic Steam broccoli until just tender, 5 to 7 minutes. Once cool, combine with chickpeas, onion, cherry tomatoes, and nuts. Blend dressing ingredients in a high-powered blender. Toss salad with desired amount of dressing. Leftover dressing may be reserved for another use. PER SERVING: CALORIES 298; PROTEIN 13g; CARBOHYDRATE 40g; TOTAL FAT 12.9g; SATURATED FAT 1.1g; SODIUM 70mg; FIBER 8.9g; BETA-CAROTENE 809mcg; VITAMIN C 139mg; CALCIUM 119mg; IRON 3.8mg; FOLATE 218mcg; MAGNESIUM 105mg; ZINC 2.5mg; SELENIUM 7mcg

Buckwheat: Buckwheat is not related to wheat, so it is a favorable grain for wheat-sensitive people. It is also rich in protein and fiber and has been shown to lower cholesterol. Buckwheat groats can be soaked in advance and then used to make porridge, a seasoned side dish, or crackers. Kasha is toasted buckwheat. Millet: This versatile, gluten-free grain is a staple crop in India and Africa. Mildly sweet and nutty, it can be used in both main dishes and desserts. Depending on the length of time it is cooked, it can be slightly crunchy or soft and creamy. Serve it with stir-fried dishes, add it to salads, or make a breakfast porridge with cooked millet, nuts, seeds, and fruit. Quinoa: Although quinoa is usually considered a whole grain, it is actually a seed. It is a good protein source and cooks in just ten to fifteen minutes. Rinse quinoa before cooking because it is coated with a bitter compound called saponin. Quinoa tastes great by itself, or for a substantial salad, toss it with veggies, nuts, and a flavored vinegar or light dressing. It makes a great addition to veggie burgers and even works well in breakfast or dessert puddings.

1930s Preserving The Arts of Peace The decade before the Second World War started much like the previous one. The stock exchange had crashed, there were 3 million unemployed, a 1931 hunger march was dispersed with baton charges, and the 'Bright Young Things' and their elder bluestocking systers veered towards the Left. 'If you haven't lost money,' advised Vogue, 'pretend you have. Mayfair has gone native; no champagne, and dinner cut to two courses.' Servants were released. One served one's own cocktails or perhaps copied Mademoiselle Chanel and arranged 'buffet-style meals'. 'Guests toss their own salads!' reported Vogue. To flaunt wealth would not do at all - 'one is still grand, but one is poor,' remarked Cecil Beaton.

The term “racism” has been tossed around like ingredients in a salad. It’s pressed on issues and people who hold little to no bias against others, to the point that the word has lost its meaning.

so I ate a salad, no wine, popped those two aspirins prescribed by Jan, and slept like a baby, except I didn’t toss and turn, pee in my pants, or cry every two hours.

Nah, hoe, she is gonna be too busy tossing my salad. You can say your prayers girl when I’m sitting on your face … cause you know …” another woman said and then began to sing, “My neck, my back, lick pussy and my crack, oh shit, my neck back, that white bitch is gonna lick my ass.

She will toss the leaves in a wooden bowl with a micro spray of olive oil, a drop of balsamic vinegar, the insanely expensive balsamic vinegar that she bought at the gourmet store, so viscous it drips in a slow, thick stream. A tomato. A Persian cucumber. These will emerge, pristine, from her tiny refrigerator, chilled, perfect. She will slice them thinly and fan them into beautiful patterns, a vegetable mandala, courtesy of the mandoline, a feast for the eyes. She will hand-crumple Parmigiano Reggiano onto the top, and then, from on high, she will brandish the mill and grind coarse crystals of pink salt form the Himalayas into fine, sparkly shavings that will float, like snowflakes, onto the pale green surface of her salad.

steak, baked potatoes, and tossed salad.

He’s wrong, you know. However glorified he made it sound. Maybe my perspective is skewed, but that’s not how I recall it.” I pulled out a head of lettuce and a knife. “After you, everything seems mediocre.” Mason walked over and leaned on the counter next to me. “Thanks. Even if you’re only saying that to make me feel better.” I placed the lettuce on a cutting block and chopped it for salad. “I’m not just saying that. You were there. You should know. It wasn’t just sex. It was super freaking hot and unlike any other experience I’ve had.” He grinned. “Hearing you talk like that has me pretty turned on, but the way you’re murdering that lettuce has me kind of intimidated, as well.” I laughed and set the knife down. “I’m sorry. I’m just so pissed. I can’t believe he was talking about any of this.” “I really don’t think he was doing it to be an ass, honest. He was talking, thinking about the past.” Mason grabbed my hands and pulled me to his chest. “It just sucked to hear on my end and, if anything, I should be the one murdering the lettuce right now.” He tilted my chin up and kissed me. “Do you maybe have a tomato or something I can take my aggression out on?” “Cucumber?” “There’s some symbolism there. A little dark and disturbing, but I like it.” Laughing, I pulled the cucumber out of the small refrigerator. “Have at it.” He set it on the cutting block and picked up the knife. “You sure you don’t want to hack into this one?” “It’s all you.” I moved the lettuce to a big bowl then set it in front of Mason, who was moving the cucumber around the cutting board, seemingly unsure where to start. “You’re supposed to be murdering it, not trying to score a second date.” “I’m going to be honest. It feels a little barbaric.” I bit back a smile. “Okay, well, when you’re done sweet-talking the cucumber, will you coax it into the salad bowl for me?” “Why? You going to toss it for me?” “Yes, Mason. I’m going to toss your salad.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, why not.” I nudged him out of the way and started cutting the cucumber myself. “Stop corrupting my dinner.” “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m just helping. I have no idea what you’re talking about

Adzuki beans are small, russet-colored beans. They have a thin white line on the ridge. They’re somewhat thick-skinned with a sweet, nutty flavor. Black beans or turtle beans have a beautiful matte black color. The flesh is cream-colored with a rich, earthy flavor. Cannellini or white beans are white and kidney-shaped. They have a creamy, smooth texture and are good in soups and salads. Chickpeas are round, cream-colored legumes. Extremely popular in the Mediterranean, India, and the Middle East, they have a nutlike flavor. Very high in fiber and nutrients, they’re great when tossed on a salad, mixed with some chopped onion and olive oil, or pureed into hummus. Fava beans or broad beans are usually available whole in their pods or peeled and split. They’re large and light brown with a nutty taste and a slightly grainy texture. Great Northern beans are large white beans with a creamy texture. Use them in baked bean dishes. Navy beans are small white beans and are so called because the U.S. Navy used to keep them aboard ships as a standard provision. Pinto beans are perhaps the most popular beans in the United States. Pale pink with streaks of brown, once cooked, they turn entirely pink. They have a rich, meaty taste.

Another key to a perfect salad is the sauce, or vinaigrette. Most people don’t think of vinaigrette as a sauce but it is one of the most important in the French repertoire. It always includes mustard, and shallot, garlic, or chives, either vinegar or lemon juice, and most often peanut oil, though olive and canola oil are rapidly becoming more common. The proportions are 1 tablespoon vinegar, 1 teaspoon mustard, ¼ cup (60ml) oil, a pinch of salt. There can be more to a vinaigrette. Try adding a bit of soy sauce (1 teaspoon) when you add the vinegar, mix oils or use just a nut oil—hazelnut and walnut are my favorites, but almond and peanut oil are delicious, too. You can add different herbs aside from the traditional chives—try tarragon, mint, thyme, basil, or fennel fronds—a flavored mustard, a mix of ground peppercorns. One vital tip for making a great salad, whether green, composed, or otherwise, is to thoroughly toss the leaves in the vinaigrette. Some people ask me if they should toss salad with their hands. My resounding response is “Ugh.” Apparently someone at some time said the French do this but I’ve never witnessed this behavior and cannot imagine anything worse. The best utensils for tossing salad are a wooden spoon and fork, though you can use whatever is easiest for you. The point is to fatiguer la salade, tire out the lettuce, by lifting it up and out of the bowl, turning it, and letting it fall back into the bowl as many times as it takes for the lettuce leaves to begin to feel heavy. When they do, they’re perfectly dressed. And finally, toss the lettuce right before you plan to serve the salad. You cannot do this in advance. The acid in the vinaigrette begins to “cook” the leaves almost immediately—they’ll soon be wilted and soft if they’re left to sit.

Belgian Endive and Radish Salad SERVES 4 PREPARATION TIME 10 minutes 2 large heads Belgian endive, halved lengthwise and leaves separated 12 radishes, thinly sliced 3 tablespoons chopped parsley leaves 1 tablespoon Chardonnay vinegar 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 Toss the Belgian endive leaves, radishes and parsley together in a bowl. 2 Whisk together the Chardonnay vinegar and oil in a small bowl and season with salt and pepper. Drizzle the dressing over the leaves and toss together to combine.

f you're living in a place that's just not big enough for that huge Christmas tree you'd love to have, get branches of evergreen, balsam, or juniper and use them to outline mirrors, arrange on mantels or windowsills, or decorate tabletops and bookshelves. Add gold or silver balls or showcase your holiday collectibles among the branches, such as snow villages, angels, and Christmas teacups. And don't forget to use plenty of unlit candles in seasonal colors. If you do light them, make sure the branches are arranged so they're not a fire hazard. Add a nativity scene to set the significant tone of the season. Make your home warm and welcoming, overflowing with love and good cheer. hose food shows on TV don't have anything on me! Cooking with your friends-inviting them to sit with you while you prepare a fantastic meal is something I've been doing for years. More often, though, I'll put my friends to work. We all have fun pitching in. I've had some of my best conversations while I was stirring a pot of soup and someone else was tossing a salad. I've also had some of my closest times with my husband in that warm, creative room in our house. Good talk seems to happen naturally in the kitchen. And teamwork is great fun! No one is lonely; no one feels left out. Creativity flourishes as you work together.

My sister's hard to understand when she has a breakdown," Rachael agreed. "She doesn't really mumble, but it's more like verbal kung fu. She has about six conversations at once and mixes them all up liked tossed salad.

Favourite Fresh Fruit Salad   This best fresh fruit salad you can prepare with any fresh fruits available in any season. It is very refreshing and also very low in calories. I normally use different fresh fruits to make this salad which depends on the season. You will never want to try any of the disgusting can fruit salads available in the market once you master this one.   5 servings Prep time:    Ingredients Take ½ cup of each fruit Raspberries Blueberries Bananas (sliced and peeled) Kiwi fruit (sliced and peeled) Pineapple (cored, sliced and peeled) Peaches (sliced and peeled) Red grapes (halved) Mangoes (hulled and sliced) Strawberries (sliced, skinned and cored) Watermelon and Cantaloupe Juice of 1 fresh-squeezed lemon Honey or granulated sugar to taste   Instructions 1.    First step is to prepare the banana dressing. 2.    Take a small bowl, mash a banana with a fork. 3.    Add just a small amount of lemon juice but you can add more if you want more consistency. 4.    Add sugar or honey to sweeten the dressing. 5.    Set aside the banana dressing to use it later. 6.    Take the Watermelon and Cantaloupe and remove their flesh and cut into bit-size pieces. 7.    Take a large bowl and combine all the mixed prepared fruits. 8.    Add prepared banana dressing over the prepared fruits. 9.    Gently toss the fruits to coat the complete layer. 10. Cover it and refrigerate for few hours before serving. 11. You can serve it in chilled cocktail glasses to make it look appetizing.   Serving suggestions   Top this fresh salad with chopped nuts.

Italian Summer Pasta Salad   1 ½ cups pasta (bowtie and corkscrew shapes hold up the best) 2 cups broccoli, chopped 1 cup cauliflower, chopped 1 cup fresh mushrooms, chopped 1 can artichoke hearts, drained ½ cup sweet yellow onion, chopped 1 cup balsamic or Italian salad dressing ¾ cup sliced black olives 1 ripe tomato, chopped 1 avocado, chopped   Cook the pasta according to package directions, drain, and rinse with cold water. In large bowl, combine all ingredients, adding in cold pasta at the end. Toss to coat. Cover and keep cold.

the tossed salad model of immigration instead of the melting pot.

That drummer is hot,” Sam says. He’s still watching the footage with no sound, since we play the TV with subtitles for Logan all the time. “I would have thought you’d like the lead singer best,” Emily says, watching his face. He shakes his head. “Not my type.” “Not enough ass,” Pete tosses out. “He’s not into skinny chicks.” Pete looks over at Emily. “No offense, Em.” Emily rolls her eyes and points to her very pregnant belly. Sam shoots Pete a look and shoves Pete’s legs out of his lap. Pete makes a move like he’s grabbing and squeezing. “Sam likes a girl he can hold on to.” Sam’s face goes pink as he shrugs. “I like curves,” he says. “I can’t help it.” Pete shoves him again. “He wants tits and ass,” he says, making that squeezing motion again. “And a brain,” Sam says, holding up his finger. “And an appetite,” I add. Sam raises his brow. “I like to cook. So I like a girl who likes to eat. Go figure.” Emily laughs. Sam must feel the need to explain himself because he goes on. “I hate taking a girl to dinner and having her order a salad. Or having her tell me she can’t eat one of my famous cupcakes because she’s on a diet.” He shivers like he’s repulsed by the very idea of it. He draws an hourglass figure in the air with his hands. “I’ll take tits, ass, and thighs, please,” he says, as though he’s ordering dinner. “And, dammit, if there’s icing that can be licked off places, I want her to be able to partake without thinking about calories.” “TMI, Sam!” Emily cries, covering her ears. Sam laughs, so I throw a remote at his head. “Act like a gentleman,” I warn, because I feel like I should. But that shit’s funny as hell.

grow in Texas, several as common weeds. Next time you are weeding your garden, instead of throwing the wood sorrel in the garbage, toss the leaves into a salad or use them to flavor a soup. The fresh leaves and tender green fruit pods add a zingy sour flavor to vegetable dishes. Wood sorrel is high in vitamin C and was used in the past to prevent and treat scurvy, which is caused by a vitamin C deficiency. Wood sorrel is available year-round (Gibbons and Tucker 1979; Fleming 1975; Zennie and Ogzewella 1977).

Exasperating laughter ejects from Trey’s mouth, “A-you’re an asshole, and B- it’s not makeup, it’s a translucent powder to cover up the bruises on my face. Now, what do you want from me?” “Tilly wants to know if you’re hungry. I know how much you like—” Jason pauses, snapping his fingers. “What was that called? Oh yes, tossed salads? Am I right?” “Go fuck yourself, Jason!

I remember the pissaladière. We stood there watching them cook and eating that soft, oily bread. Back then I was so poor I was living on bread and cheese, and the flavor of olives and anchovies went straight through me." He stopped, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, as if he was summoning the words from the air. "The wine was flowing, and the celery was crisp. Richard had found some old farmer who gave him a great ripe wheel of Brie that dripped off the edges of the bread. Richard and that crazy chef kept arguing, but it wasn't a fight, it was a seduction." Stella wanted to ask what they had argued about, but she was afraid to interrupt the rhythm of his words. "Richard wanted to keep it simple--- you know how he is--- but that chef had his own ideas. I remember he started dicing fish and mixing it with onions, tomatoes, and little bits of celery. 'Limes!' he said. 'I must have limes!' None of us had ever heard of ceviche, and we were astonished. Then Richard concocted a chicken gratin with a cheese custard on top, and the chef made the most beautiful salad I'd ever seen. He threw everything into it--- pieces of lemon, bits of cheese, and then he took the violets out of the vase and tossed in the petals. It was beautiful.

For several long seconds it seemed that I would simply remain as such, tossed and thrashed like an over-wet side salad. But I was no mere lettuce leaf. I was a main course all of my own.

The Versed Shapeshifter by Stewart Stafford The poet casts profundity's light, On untouched depths of consciousness, Truffles mined from reality's seam, Sharpened quills from a full armoury. Visionary heralds, core journalists, Healers of the heart's collective scars, Distilling matured verity from mystic grapes, Tossing tropes to make their alchemist salad. Inventors, composers, focusing global eyes, A seismic shift rebooting sentient bedrock, Cartographers mapping the human way, A bard's verbal progeny on boundless legs. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

The long side buffet in the dining room is laden with tureens of rendang and fragrant, steaming rice. Sour green mangoes are shredded in a kerabu: a salad tossed with mint, shallots, and dried shrimp drizzled with lime and spicy sambal sauce.

The reality is that Hawai‘i is more of a salad bowl, or better yet a plate of chop suey: each ethnicity tossed together but still distinct. Growing up, we poked fun at each other’s differences and quirks in a good-natured way, while also being aware and proud of those unique traits that made us who we are.

However, when you have a free fifteen minutes at home, treat yourself to this well-spent recipe for a beautifully scented kitchen counter: Place the peel of citrus fruit (mix, if you can, orange, lemon, and lime) in a large salad bowl; finely chop stalks of your favorite fresh herbs (fresh or dry), add some dried potpourri (even a stale one you were going to throw out) and a few drops of essential oil in your favorite scents (rose is my basic). Tossing the ingredients together as if it were a salad is all it takes to release a welcoming fragrance.

It only takes spinach about a week to go from seed to seedling, and then forty days later, you can expect to harvest your plants and toss them in a salad. In that time, our system will not need to have its water changed so long as the nutrient solution to plant ratio remains at one plant to one gallon. A pH level between 6.0 and 7.5 is necessary. This pH level is mostly within the ranges that lettuce likes as well, and this means that the two plants can be grown together in a single Kratky system, though lettuce will harvest a week or two earlier than spinach does.

The jackapples were long and red and oddly pointed at one end. One or two had been cut open as Joe dug them up, showing flesh which looked tropically pink in the sun. The boy staggered a little under the weight of the box. "Watch your step," called Joe. "Don't drop 'em. They'll bruise." "But these are just potatoes." "Aye," said Joe, without taking his eyes from the vegetable cutter. "I thought you said they were apples, or something." "Jacks. Spuds. Taters. Jackapples. Poms de Tair." "Don't look like much to me," said Jay. Joe shook his head and began to feed the roots into the vegetable cutter. Their scent was sweetish, like papaya. "I brought seeds for these home from South America after the war," he said. "Grew 'em right here in my back garden. Took me five years just to get the soil right. If you want roasters, you grow King Edwards. If you want salads, it's your Charlottes or your Jerseys. If it's chippers you're after, then it's your Maris Piper. But these..." He reached down to pick one up, rubbing the blackened ball of his thumb lovingly across the pinkish skin. "Older than New York, so old it doesn't even have an English name. Seed more precious than powdered gold. These aren't just potatoes, lad." He shook his head again, his eyes brimful of laughter under the thick gray brows. "These are me Specials." Jay watched him cautiously. "So what are you making?" he asked at last. Joe tossed the last jackapple into the cutter and grinned. "Wine, lad. Wine.

I take the roasting pan of braised chicken thighs with shallots and tomatoes and mushrooms in a white wine Dijon sauce out of the fridge and pop it in the oven to reheat. I dump the celery root potato puree out of its tub and into my slow cooker to gently warm, then grab the asparagus that I steamed yesterday and set it on the counter to take the chill off. I pull the butter lettuce I bought at Whole Foods out and separate the leaves into a bowl, filling it with cool water as I go, and when they are clean, I pop them into my salad spinner and whizz the crap out of them. They go into the big wooden salad bowl I got in Morocco. When dinnertime comes I'll chop the asparagus and add it to the salad along with some tiny baby marinated artichokes, no bigger than olives, toss with a peppery vinaigrette. The sourdough baguette I picked up goes into the table intact; I love to just let guests tear pieces off at the table. The three cheeses I snagged at the cheese counter get set to the side so that they will be appropriately room temp by the time I serve them after dinner. I might not be French, but all those years there have stuck, and I simply cannot have dinner without some cheese after.

I look away when the Russian nurse comes in, holding a tray with Mom’s dinner on it. “Good evening, Mrs. Messing,” she says, her accent thick. Mom eyes her suspiciously. “I hope there’s plenty of sauce this time.” The nurse is polite and patient, even goes back to the kitchen to see if they have cracked pepper instead of the little packets. While Mom eats she talks about the parties she and Dad used to throw at the house. Those were the days, she says, sighing. Composers and producers; actresses like her and screenwriters like Dad, all of them vibrating with youth and beauty. The world was going to be ours. I readjust the napkin so that it covers a larger section of her blouse. How cute the two of you were in your matching outfits, she says about Emily and me. I refill her water cup, ask the nurse for more Parmesan cheese. Everyone said I was crazy to have daughters so close in age, but I thought one could watch out for the other. And you were always so mature, so it worked out. I dress her salad, tossing it with the flimsy plastic fork. Do you remember demanding white wine spritzers at your twelfth birthday party? Yes. I nod.

First, a sizzling stone, the same one Toshio introduced to Ducasse years back. Today it's filled with rice and ginger juice and baby firefly squid, which crackle wildly as he tosses it all like a scalding salad and pushes it over to me. The squid guts coat the rice like an ocean risotto, give it body and funk, while the heat from the stone crisps the grains like a perfect bibimbap.

All I can say is the bubbling pizza tasted as spectacular as it looked, and I didn't even fool with fixin' a salad to go with it. Since Sugar and Spice were begging and whining, I picked off a few pieces of sausage and pepperoni and tossed them to the dogs while I kept watching Emeril roll out and stretch some dough and trying not to think about Vernon and Sally and the way they'd deceived me. What I really wanted to do was scream at Emeril that his dough was too thick and more like the Chicago style than the crisp classic Neopolitan one I was eating. But, instead, I finished munching on the slice, and looked at the meatballs and pieces of bacon and golden mushrooms and shiny olives and onions nestled in all the melted cheese on the next slice, and started nibbling on that one. By now, Emeril was chopping herbs while he sautéed onions and garlic in olive oil, and when I wasn't concentrating on him, my thoughts shifted again to Vernon and Sally, and the humiliating stunt they'd pulled on me, and how I'd really like to take my gun and blow both their brains out. Then I wondered why in hell Emeril would dog up his pizza with so much tomato sauce, and Sugar was driving me crazy begging for more meat, and before I realized it, I was sinking my teeth into a third slice loaded mainly with red peppers and sausage that had a wonderful fennel taste and telling myself how much better this pizza was than the one Emeril was fixin'.

I busied myself with the seaweed, while Stephen pulled out flexible opaque salmon bones. After skinning the fish, he sliced it down the center seam, creating two pieces, which he cut into quarter-inch-thick slices. Then, like magic, he transformed a knob of ginger into a miniature golden haystack. I handed him the slippery piece of kelp, which he squared off and placed on a bamboo sushi roller. Next, he laid several slices of salmon across the shiny middle, sprinkled it with a few threads of ginger, and rolled it up like a nori roll. After sealing the cylinder in plastic wraps, he handed it to me. "Cut this into bite-size pieces." The sweet and tangy kelp yielded like a cooked lasagna noodle under the sharp knife, creating exotic coral-and-sienna pinwheels. Next, we made delicate egg crepes to wrap around thick oily slices of mackerel that we soaked in a bracing mix of dashi, sugar, and soy. This was followed by a small "salad" of lightly salted white fish "noodles" tossed with salmon roe and lemony yuzu.

I've ordered ice-cold ficoide in truffle vinaigrette. Ficoide is a rare kind of salad with thick fleshy leaves prettily arranged round a delicious pulpy stem. I don't know where you buy the stuff. At Chez moi I have ordinary lettuce and romaine lettuce, and also rocket which I toss into gravy because I've got an idea rocket is a meat-like plant: I'm keen to reconcile it with its animal tendencies. It's a waste because most people leave it on the side of the plate, shriveled and pathetic as if it were a failed garnish. Still, I press on with my attempted trans-categorization: I feel it's what the various foodstuffs expect of me, what I'm supposed to give to the world. Rocket with meat. Avocados with fruit. White wine with cheese. I realign friendships, cheat at Happy Families.

When I don’t immediately reply, she punches me in the arm. “Ow, what the hell?! Just give me a minute!” I yell at her. “Yeah, that’s it! Get mad!” she demands, punching me again. “SON OF A BITCH, I WANT YOUR COCK IN MY PUSSY!” I shout at the top of my lungs, glaring at her as I rub the spot on my arm that already feels like it’s bruising. “BEND ME OVER THE COUCH AND FUCK ME HARD!” Ariel screams, threatening me with her fist held up in the air. “BEND ME OVER THE COUCH AND FUCK ME HARD!” Ariel claps her hands together in glee and bounces up and down on her stool. “Oh my God this is so much fun! It’s like having my very own wind-up, talking hussy doll. I WANT TO LICK YOUR BALLS!” “I WANT TO LICK YOUR BALLS!” I immediately shout back, starting to get the hang of this and not even a little bit embarrassed by the things coming out of my mouth now. “FUCK ME HARDER, LICK MY PUSSY, PUT YOUR DICK IN MY MOUTH, STICK IT IN MY ASS, TOSS MY MOTHERFUCKING SALAD!” Ariel immediately stops clapping and looks at me with wide eyes. “What? Too far?” I ask. “Jesus, way too far. I know I told you to cruise around on Urban Dictionary to pick up some new words, but that was clearly a mistake.

TOMATO SALAD/SAUCE 1 pound ripe tomatoes (2 or 3 tomatoes) 1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic ¾ teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper ⅓ cup extra-virgin olive oil 1 cup shredded basil leaves PASTA Salt to taste 8 cups water 1 pound penne or bow-tie pasta ⅓ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (preferably Parmigiano-Reggiano) FOR THE TOMATO SALAD/SAUCE: Cut the tomatoes in half crosswise, parallel to the stems, and gently press the seeds out. Cut the flesh into ½-inch pieces, and put them in a bowl large enough to hold the finished dish. Add the remaining salad ingredients, and toss well. FOR THE PASTA: Salt the water and bring to a boil. Add the pasta, stir well, bring back to a boil, and boil, uncovered, stirring occasionally, for about to minutes, more or less, depending on how firm you like your pasta. Add a 6-ounce ladle of the hot pasta water to the tomato salad. Drain the pasta in a colander, and acid it immediately to the tomato salad. Toss thoroughly, and divide the pasta among four soup plates. Sprinkle generously with the Parmesan cheese, and serve immediately.

Pissenlit (DANDELION SALAD) YIELD: 4 SERVINGS PISSENLIT, as the common dandelion is often called in France, is considered a great early-spring treat in our family. Gloria loves to pick the greens at the end of March and the beginning of April, especially the small white specimens hidden in the fallen leaves behind our guesthouse. This family tradition started for me with my father and my two brothers, and now my wife and daughter, Claudine, are great lovers of pissenlit salad. The leaves should be picked before the flowers start forming, while they are small, white, and tender. There is no comparison between the tender wild dandelion greens you pick yourself and the ones that are found in markets. With a small paring knife, cut about an inch below the ground to get the dandelion plant in one piece. Cut the leaves away from the root, and discard any that are damaged or darkened. Our version always includes pieces of pancetta as well as croutons, boiled eggs with soft yolks, and a dressing made of garlic, anchovies, and olive oil. 4 large eggs 5 ounces pancetta, cut into pieces about 1 inch long, ½ inch wide, and ½ inch thick (about 2 dozen) 2 cups water 6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 2 teaspoons chopped garlic 4 anchovy fillets in oil, finely chopped 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar ½ teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper A piece of baguette (about 3 ounces), cut into sixteen ¼-inch slices About 8 ounces (8 cups packed) dandelion greens, washed two or three times and spun dry Lower the eggs carefully into boiling water, and boil them at a simmer for 7 minutes. Pour out the water, shake the pan to crack the shells, then fill the pan with ice, and let the eggs cool in the pan for at least 15 minutes. Peel the eggs under cold running water, and cut them into quarters. Meanwhile, put the pancetta pieces in a saucepan, and cover them with the water. Bring the water to a boil, and boil gently for 10 minutes. Drain, then put the pancetta in a saucepan with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Cook gently for 5 minutes, or until crisp and lightly browned. Transfer the pancetta along with the rendered fat to a salad bowl, and add the garlic, anchovies, vinegar, salt, pepper, and 4 tablespoons of the olive oil. Mix well. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Spread the remaining 1 tablespoon oil on a cookie sheet, press the slices of bread into the oil, and then turn them over, so they are oiled on the second side. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, until nicely browned. At serving time, add the greens to the salad bowl, and toss them with the dressing. Divide among four plates, and top with the bread and quartered eggs. Serve.

Chicken Salad 2 pulled boneless chicken breasts, grilled, boiled, or baked ¼ cup Greek yogurt ⅓ cup chopped celery 2 shallots, chopped ⅓ cup halved grapes 1 whole-wheat sandwich thin or a bed of greens FOR THE TOASTED WALNUTS: Fill a small skillet with walnuts and heat over medium-high heat. Sprinkle with salt to taste and cook, tossing until they are brown. Mix the chicken and yogurt thoroughly in a small bowl. Blend in the celery, shallots, and grapes and spread on a whole-wheat sandwich thin or over a bed of greens. Note: You can also use pulled-apart rotisserie chicken—just make sure to remove its high-fat skin first.

Scallop Spinach Salad with Bacon FOR THE SALAD: 1 onion 1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil 6 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese 6 sea scallops Salt and pepper to taste 3 slices bacon 1 bunch of spinach FOR THE DRESSING: 3 tablespoons good-quality balsamic vinegar 1 teaspoon maple syrup 2 garlic cloves, minced 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil Mix the dressing ingredients in a small bowl, adding the oil last, and set aside. Begin by caramelizing the onion, since this will take a while. Slice the onion to the desired thickness (making ⅛-inch slices will prevent them from drying out) and toss with the olive oil in a small bowl. Place in a frying pan over low heat and allow the onion to caramelize for approximately 40 minutes, stirring occasionally. Preheat the oven to 350 ° F. Put a piece of parchment paper on a cookie sheet, top with 6 mounds of grated Parmesan cheese (1 tablespoon for each scallop) and bake until golden brown. Watch closely because it only takes about 5 minutes for these to crisp up! Take the Parmesan crisps out of the oven and set aside. Note: You can caramelize the onions and make the Parmesan crisps the day before—just store in airtight containers overnight. You can use these for other salads as well. Reduce the oven to 250 ° F. Lay the scallops on paper towels, add salt and pepper to taste, and allow to dry thoroughly. While the scallops are drying, cut the bacon into small pieces and crisp them in a frying pan over medium heat. When the bacon is crisp, set it on paper towels to drain. Drain all but 1 teaspoon of the bacon grease from the frying pan and return to the burner over medium heat. When the pan is screaming hot, place the scallops in the pan and sear on both sides until golden brown. Place the scallops in an ovenproof pan (or keep them in an ovenproof frying pan) and place them in the oven for about 6 minutes while you assemble the remainder of the salad. Place the dressing in the bottom of a large salad bowl and top with the spinach, Parmesan crisps, crumbled bacon, and caramelized onions. Toss the salad with the dressing and top with the cooked scallops.

Kale Salad with Chicken 4 ounces cooked and pulled chicken 1 handful of chopped romaine 2 handfuls of chopped kale 1 handful of Oil-Free Sautéed Almonds ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper ½ teaspoon garlic powder FOR THE DRESSING: 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil 2 tablespoons water 1 teaspoon minced garlic 1 teaspoon maple syrup ¼ teaspoon onion powder ¼ teaspoon oregano Pinch of salt and pepper Combine all dressing ingredients and mix thoroughly. Warm up the chicken in a skillet. Place the romaine in a salad bowl. Process the kale into really small pieces in a food processor, then add it to the romaine. Add the rest of the salad ingredients and toss with 2 tablespoons of the dressing.

Apple Cider Salad 2 cups mixed greens 1 apple, cored and chopped 4 ounces crumbled blue cheese Shredded rotisserie chicken (optional) Black pepper to taste FOR THE MAPLE PECANS: ½ cup pecan pieces Pinch of salt 2 teaspoons maple syrup Add the pecans and salt to a skillet over medium-high heat, and cook until brown. Add the maple syrup and reduce the heat to medium. Let the syrup mix in, then remove from the heat. FOR THE APPLE CIDER VINAIGRETTE: 2 tablespoons Bragg’s Apple Cider Vinegar 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil 1 teaspoon minced garlic ¼ teaspoon onion powder ¼ teaspoon oregano Pinch of salt and pepper ¼ teaspoon onion powder Combine vinaigrette ingredients and stir together, then drizzle over salad and toss.

Romaine and Gorgonzola Salad Wash two heads of romaine lettuce in cold water, discarding the tough outer leaves. Shake dry and tear into bite-sized pieces. Add basil sprigs and cherry tomatoes, cut in half. Right before serving, toss the lettuce with Gorgonzola vinaigrette. Gorgonzola Vinaigrette 1/ 4 cup white wine vinegar + 1/ 4 cup apple juice 1 Tablespoon minced shallots 2 Tablespoons mustard 2 teaspoons chopped basil 2 Tablespoons toasted pine nuts (pinones) 1/ 4 cup walnut oil + 3 Tablespoons olive oil 2 Tablespoons crumbled Gorgonzola—preferably the aged variety from Monferrato freshly ground black pepper Put everything in a jar and shake well. Makes about 1 cup. Store in the fridge for up to 5 days.

Chicken Salad à la Danny Kaye YIELD: 4 SERVINGS TO MOST AMERICANS, Danny Kaye is remembered as a splendid comedian and actor. I think of him as a friend and one of the finest cooks I have ever known. In every way, Danny was equal to or better than any trained chef. His technique was flawless. The speed at which he worked was on par with what you’d find in a Parisian brigade de cuisine. Danny taught me a great deal, mostly about Chinese cuisine, his specialty. Whenever I traveled to Los Angeles, Danny picked me up at the airport and took me to his house, where we cooked Chinese or French food. His poached chicken was the best I have ever had. His method was to put the chicken in a small stockpot, cover it with tepid water seasoned with salt, peppercorns, and vegetables, and cook it at a gentle boil for only 10 minutes, then set it aside off the heat for 45 minutes. As an added touch, he always stuck a handful of knives, forks, and spoons into the cavity of the chicken, to keep it submerged. The result is so moist, tender, and flavorful that I have used the recipe—minus the flatware—ever since. CHICKEN 1 chicken, about 3½ pounds ½ cup sliced carrot 1 cup sliced onion 1 small leek, washed and left whole 1 rib celery, washed and left whole 1 teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon black peppercorns 2 sprigs thyme 2 bay leaves About 7 cups tepid water, or more if needed DRESSING 2 tablespoons Dijon-style mustard 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar 1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic ¼ teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper ½ teaspoon Tabasco hot pepper sauce 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil GARNISHES 1 dozen Boston lettuce leaves, cleaned 2 dozen fresh tarragon leaves FOR THE CHICKEN: Place the chicken breast side down in a tall, narrow pot, so it fits snugly at the bottom. Add the remaining poaching ingredients. The chicken should be submerged, and the water should extend about 1 inch above it. Bring to a gentle boil, cover, and let boil gently for two minutes. Remove the pot from the heat, and set it aside to steep in the hot broth for 45 minutes. Remove the chicken from the pot, and set it aside on a platter to cool for a few minutes. (The stock can be strained and frozen for up to 6 months for use in soup.) Pick the meat from the chicken bones, discarding the skin, bones, and fat. Shred the meat with your fingers, following the grain and pulling it into strips. (The meat tastes better shredded than diced with a knife.) FOR THE DRESSING: Mix together all the dressing ingredients in a bowl large enough to hold the chicken salad. Add the chicken shreds to the dressing and toss well. Arrange the Boston lettuce leaves in a “nest” around the periphery of a platter, and spoon the room-temperature chicken salad into the center. Sprinkle with the tarragon leaves and serve.

Semi-Dry Tomatoes and Mozzarella Salad YIELD: 4 SERVINGS IN THE Today’s Gourmet series, I wanted to create dishes that were elegant, modern, original, light, and reasonably quick to prepare. TV demanded that the dishes be visually attractive, too. It was fun to dream up new recipes with that focus in mind. This one is a good example. Partially drying the tomatoes in the oven concentrates their taste, giving them a wonderfully deep flavor and great chewiness. The red of the tomatoes, the white of the cheese, and the green of the basil make this dramatically colorful salad especially enticing. Serve with good crunchy bread. 1½ pounds plum tomatoes (about 6), cut lengthwise into halves (12 pieces) ¾ teaspoon salt 10 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese, cut into ½-inch slices 2 tablespoons drained and rinsed capers ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 teaspoon chopped garlic 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil ½ teaspoon grated lemon rind About 1 cup (loose) basil leaves Preheat the oven to 250 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil. Arrange the tomato halves cut side up on the sheet, and sprinkle ½ teaspoon of the salt on top. Bake for 4 hours. Remove the tomatoes from the oven (they will still be soft), and put them in a serving bowl. Let them cool, then add the mozzarella, capers, remaining ¼ teaspoon salt, pepper, garlic, olive oil, and lemon rind, and mix to combine. Drop the basil leaves into 2 cups of boiling water, and cook for about 10 seconds. Drain, and cool under cold running water. Press the basil between your palms to extrude most of the water, then chop finely. Add to the salad, toss well, and serve.

All fantasy tales bathe in the same myth pool and soak in its archetypes and tropes. It's how each author tosses the stock ingredients of the salad that renders their telling unique.

cold thai salad Serves 2 Prep Time: 25 minutes Chill Time: 30 minutes Total Time: 55 minutes 2 small zucchini 1 small cucumber 2 carrots, peeled and shredded ½ cup mung bean sprouts (optional) ¼ cup chopped cashews ¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro ½ cup Sunshine Sauce Skip the 30 minutes of chill time by placing the zucchini, cucumber, carrots, and bean sprouts in the fridge the night before you prepare this dish—or just skip it altogether, if you don’t mind your salad at room temperature. If you feel like a lighter dressing, try tossing the vegetables with our Asian Vinaigrette or the creamy Cilantro-Lime Mayo instead of the Sunshine Sauce.

I think madness had hidden there, in that extreme but also tiny ambition, like swallowing a centipede tossed in the salad.

Potato Strings These little crispy bits work great on top of your favorite taco salad, soup, or chili. Or eat them straight as a good healthy-carb snack. If you don’t have a vegetable spiralizer, look for prepackaged spiraled sweet potatoes in the produce department. To store any unused portion, place in a bowl with paper towel or a loose piece of parchment paper over top. Do not place in an airtight container or they will become soft. MAKES 4 SERVINGS Ingredients: 1 small Japanese or purple-skinned sweet potato, peeled (if desired) and spiralized ½–1 teaspoon ancho chile powder (to taste) Pantry items: Cooking spray Himalayan pink salt Directions: Preheat the air fryer to 320°F for 5 minutes. Place the sweet potato spirals in a medium bowl and spray with cooking spray. Add the chile powder and a large pinch of salt and toss to evenly coat. Transfer the strings to the fry basket and cook for 4 minutes. Open and shake or stir the spirals. Cook until they become crisp, about 4 minutes more. Remove from the fryer and add another hit of salt. Allow to cool.

halibut steamed in parchment paper halibut al cartoccio Four 6-ounce pieces halibut Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 fennel bulb, very thinly sliced 4 shallots, very thinly sliced 1 garlic clove, very thinly sliced ½ cup extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling ¼ cup dry white wine 3 lemons, halved, plus more lemon juice for drizzling if needed 1 large or 2 medium tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and diced ¼ cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves ¼ cup celery leaves 2 tablespoons snipped fresh chives 2 tablespoons finely sliced fresh basil 1 teaspoon crushed coriander seeds 1 Preheat the oven to 400°F. 2 Cut 4 good-sized pieces of parchment paper or aluminum foil, each about 9 inches long, and shape into heart shapes by folding them in half and then, beginning at the bottom of the fold, cutting a half-heart shape, using most of the paper. When you open the folded paper, it should be in the shape of a heart and about 9 inches long. Lay the open hearts on the countertop. 3 Put a piece of halibut on one side of each heart and season to taste with salt and pepper. Put a tablespoon of butter on top of each piece of fish. Arrange the fennel, shallots, and garlic evenly over and around each piece of halibut. Drizzle 1 tablespoon of olive oil, 1 tablespoon of wine, and the juice of ½ lemon on each fish. 4 Fold the parchment over the fish and crimp any open sides by folding it back onto itself to seal the fish inside the packet. Transfer the packets to a baking sheet or shallow baking pan and bake for 12 minutes. 5 Meanwhile, toss the tomatoes with the parsley, celery leaves, chives, basil, and coriander seeds in a bowl. Season to taste and dress with the remaining ¼ cup of olive oil and the juice of 1 lemon. 6 Remove the baking sheet from the oven. Gently cut open each parchment package, taking care because the steam can be very hot, and set each portion on a serving plate. The fish can stay on the parchment or not. 7 Top each piece of fish with a quarter of the salad. Drizzle with more olive oil and lemon juice, if necessary. Delicate fish is often cooked in parchment in Italy, which allows it to steam gently in the paper. When you open the parchment, a dramatic whirl of hot, moist steam escapes—a true delight for the senses! For this recipe, I follow another Italian culinary custom and top the fish with dressed salad when I serve it. The hot fish brings out the flavors in the herbaceous salad.  serves 4

She’d rinsed and dried the romaine lettuce with paper towels. She had a large square wooden bowl rubbed with oil and with freshly cut garlic. The smell of the garlic was tantalizing. Now she broke the lettuce into crisp bite-sized pieces, and she tossed the pieces in olive oil till they were glistening. There was quite a pile of these bits of lettuce, glistening. She gave the wooden spoons to Reuben and asked him to toss the lettuce slowly. Then she put the finely chopped green onions in and the herbs, taking out pinches of each herb—oregano, thyme, basil—and rubbing each pinch between her hands as she sprinkled it over the salad. The herbs clung perfectly to the glistening leaves. Then she added the wine vinegar and Reuben tossed more and then she served up this salad with sliced avocados and thin sliced tomatoes, and soft warm French bread from the oven, and they ate it together.