Savory-Sweet Summer Squash Salad

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I stop suddenly on the trail, leering to the left, then swinging right. Taking it all in. This is one of my favorite places in the world. The place where W proposed, where we walked and ran together that last summer here. Where visiting friends and family were brought. Where I escaped Biology 212 and pondered life instead.

Serenity. Belonging. Ownership. These feelings wash over me.

Breath in. Release. And running again.

I opt for an out and back and take it all in again from the opposite direction, this time reveling in the change of light and the minty-summery-grassy aroma. Watch the sheep far off in the back pasture.

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“Life goes on, day after day, but it also has the ability to reinvent itself, to start over.”

Farmers markets. Checking out my “must read” books from the library. Lazing away a post-5k afternoon, curled up with W. Somehow getting my body up and out the door to run 11 miles on a Sunday morning and then getting myself to church. Experiences I didn’t let myself enjoy this past year. Until now.

After months of unease and indecisiveness, starting over. Back to the place that feels like home. The college town that’s been in my dreams. I’ve longed for a sense of community, for fitting in where my values lie. For meeting new and catching up with old friends. I’m anxious to begin. Already beginning. W’s advice “don’t push it; let it happen,” as I restlessly wait for him to join me permanently in the fall. I’d like for everything to come into place all at once, but we’re easing back in to the thick of things.

“This is what the seasons show us. We all have marveled at the apple tree’s ability to rest through a dark, cold winter, then to grow new leaves in the spring, to blossom again, to bear fruit.” We’ve been waiting through the long winter these last couple years. We’re ready to let our flowers bloom. Grow those apples, I say.

Later, a moment’s jaunt from our new abode, W and I walk through the forest of ferns and Oregon grape, oak and Douglas fir. We contemplate this transition. Our journey has many unknowns. As one of us is uncertain, the other has been given divine wisdom to trust the process. It is a back and forth sort of thing, and we have always worked this way, it seems.  Through the major decisions, this leaning on each other. Today, I encourage W to settle in to the journey, to welcome the ups and downs. Both are progress. We are moving forward again. To new beginnings.

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Quotes are taken from The Runner’s Guide to the Meaning of Life by Amby Burfoot.
 
This salad was inspired by a recent trip to Whole Foods Market.  I wandered around and around the prepared foods counter until I finally settled on the salad with raisins.  It was a solid choice, and I knew I needed to recreate the recipe.  I changed the ingredients up a bit, by using millet and adding the summer squash, which in a greedy moment, I snatched more than was needed from my mom’s garden. If you do not have millet, feel free to substitute quinoa or couscous.  Don’t skip the raisins, they add the perfect counter balance to the Middle Eastern-inspired spices.
 
Savory-Sweet Summer Squash Salad, serves 3-4 as a side dish
The vegetables in this can easily be interchanged. Sautéing diced eggplant instead of bell pepper is a great addition for the Middle Eastern flavors.

Recipe Updated: 8/25/21
1/8 tsp. ground allspice
1/2 tsp. fennel seeds
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
pinch of black pepper
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1/4 cup raisins
3/4 cup millet, uncooked
1 1/2 cups water
Juice of 1/2 a  medium lemon
2 Tbs. olive oil plus more for sautéing
1/2 Tbs. raw honey
1 medium onion, diced
1/2 red bell pepper, diced
1 medium zucchini, diced
1 medium yellow summer squash, diced
fresh basil or cilantro, optional

  • To begin, bring water, spices, salt, and raisins to boil in a heavy saucepan.  When boiling, gently stir in millet and cover with a lid.  Lower heat to simmer and cook for 25 minutes.  When done, set aside.
  • While grain is cooking, stir together the lemon juice, honey, and olive oil.  Set aside.
  • Dice onion, bell pepper, and summer squashes into a medium dice.  Heat a large sauté pan over medium-high. Pour in enough olive oil to lightly coat bottom of pan.  When hot, add the onion, and sauté for 15-20 minutes, until slightly caramelized.  After about 15 minutes, stir in the bell pepper.  Add a dash of water as needed to help caramelize.
  • When onions are sweet and golden, stir in the zucchini and summer squash.  Sauté for 5-10 more minutes until squash is slightly soft.  Stir in the cooked millet and the dressing.  Adjust seasoning and sprinkle with finely minced fresh basil or cilantro, about 1 tablespoon per serving.

Who I Want to Be & Summer Brownies

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The smoke filled air instantly takes me back to standing in the smoking porch of a favorite pub, years ago now.  Almost another life.  I watch the dazed people look up from their gaming machines.  They meander around as if possessed, plunking more cash into the slots.  At the tables, the dealers’ hands flash and fluidly swoop up another round of cards.  My sister, and then my friend, squeal when up a few and then subsequently moan when all of it is lost.  The lady across the aisle sits reclined and relaxed, one elegant hand holding a long cigarette, the other poised on the ‘bet 5’ button.   The woman two seats down banks $1,500 on a quarter machine.  Her carefully contained delight emanates the space as she makes plans to see her friends there again within the week.

I delight in nothing more than watching these people, knowing this is not my place.  I’m not a smoker.  Or a gambler.  Not necessarily even a drinker.  Oddly enough, this place, this observational haven, reminds me of who I want to be.

W reminded me recently that how I see myself and how I present myself don’t always coordinate with each other.  Analyzing this statement and realizing he’s correct got me thinking.  I value authenticity, yet don’t always live authentically.  Often when surrounded by family, I retreat into a shell and only show the pieces that can’t be so easily criticized.  I camouflage how I truly feel because I think someone else will be aided by my self-sacrifice, or I long to avoid conflict and judgement.

As I sit surrounded by people delighting in only the next moment in a smoke-studded casino, I realize they don’t care what anyone else thinks. Heck, they don’t even care about what’s going on in their own lives in this moment.  For the moment, they are all-in.

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That’s who I want to be.  A person that chooses to confront controversy, to embrace how I feel, to present the same person to the outside as I feel inside, despite another’s observation, perhaps in their eyes coming up short.  To live a life that’s all-in every experience.

That’s what I did with these brownies.  I wanted chocolate and nectarines, the ones on the counter going soft.  Not in a pastry or cobbler or something usual.  In something gooey and cakey. Yet still with a tinge of health and nutrients. I’m being true to myself now after all. My gluten-free flour blend has a bit of buckwheat in it so it has the fairest hint of a rustic tone, I threw in some honey from my uncle’s bees, a small zucchini, and used extra virgin olive oil.  The result was exactly me.  Exactly what I wanted to taste and share.

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Summer Brownies with Zucchini and Nectarines, adapted from Happyolks
  • 1 cup grated zucchini
  • 2 cups grated, smashed or finely chopped nectarines with juice
  • 3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 1/2 cup honey
  • 2 eggs
  • 2 tsp vanilla extract
  • 2.5 cups gluten free flour blend
  • 1/2 tsp. xanthan gum
  • 3/4 cup  cocoa powder
  • 3/4 tsp salt
  • 2.25 tsp baking powder
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 x 11 baking pan with a tsp of oil and set aside. Grate zucchini and dice nectarine and juice onto a cutting board.
In a large bowl, mix together oil, eggs, honey, and vanilla.  Fold in the nectarine and zucchini. In a medium bowl, combine flour, cocoa, salt, and baking powder. Add the dry mixture to the wet mixture slowly, stirring to combine. 
Bake for 30-45 minutes and let cool on a wire rack.

Rhubarb Granola & Vanilla-Orange Rhubarb Sauce

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I did not grow up in a family of cooks.  My favorite cooking memory with my grandma involved making pumpkin pie with the recipe from the back of the Libby’s can.  She advised me to cut the spices in half.  When I didn’t, she told me it was the best pumpkin pie she’d ever had and wondered what magical thing I had done.

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My mom, bless her, taught me how to cook and then promptly let me loose in the kitchen to continue making years of dinner onward, up until I moved away.  Whenever I’m home for a visit, the status quo is accepted without question.  Perhaps out of survival, or because I’m an odd duck in this family of ranchers, I’ve been fascinated with food since before I was taught how to use a measuring cup.  Knife skills were a self-educating adventure, and only when I come home am I reminded that I had no idea what I’d been missing out on all those years.

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Sharp knives have never had a place in my mom’s kitchen.  I ventured to stock her kitchen with one or two nice knives a few years back, though they’ve not been sharpened since.  The rest of the knife drawer includes a random collection that couldn’t have cost more than five bucks a piece.  Now that I know the wonders of a good knife, I shudder at slicing and dicing in my mother’s kitchen.

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I am home with my parents and W for a few days, in between life ventures and to help celebrate my sister’s wedding.  As much as I complain and paint an unfortunate picture, I love being home.  I get to wake up to noise from family afoot.  I get to sit in a sunny yellow room with windows on every wall, opening to a ranch scene of cows and pasture and rail fence and my favorite old barn, the one that is leaning a fair bit.  I get to drink my tea in this room and enjoy breakfast with others.  I can sit out on the front porch in the Adirondack chair and watch the day go by (more of the same scenery).  I can do the same on the back patio.  My favorite running route begins at this farmhouse.  My old 4-H horse will run my direction for a rub when I call her from the edge of the pasture.  I can bake sweets every day, knowing they won’t go to waste and I can start again with something new the next.  I can be as adventurous as I like because if it has sugar in it, my dad will eat it.  I can wander to the garden, and harvest what I want to eat.

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My mother is an avid gardener, and there is always fresh produce in this season.  Perhaps in part because I steal rhubarb every time I visit in the spring, my mom planted several more plants.  She is a veritable rhubarb farmer now, as there is an excess that only someone who loves to spend time in the kitchen can begin to use up.  That’s what I’m here for.  Chopping thick stalks of rhubarb with a dull knife.  Making rhubarb sauce and rhubarb granola.

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There is nothing I love more than rhubarb and oats.  Except perhaps the rhubarb yogurt pairing found in Ireland.  Make sauce with honey and orange and vanilla.  I’ve been making it all spring and dishing it up atop anything and everything.  I like my sauce a touch on the tart side, but add as much honey as you like.  The sauce is perfectly poised to take part in this lovely crunchy, chunky granola, which come to think of it, I may or may not share, because my dad, who also loves rhubarb, will have gone before I can blink!

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Vanilla-Orange Rhubarb Sauce
a pot full of rhubarb, cleaned and chopped (approximately 8 big stalks)
1 Tbs. pure vanilla extract (or a vanilla bean if one can be sourced)
zest from one whole orange
3-4 Tbs. raw honey (or to taste)
 

Chop rhubarb and throw in a large pot.  Add honey, orange zest, vanilla, and a touch of water for moisture. Bring to a low boil, and then simmer until the rhubarb has cooked down until thick and creamy. Take off the heat and let cool.

 
Rhubarb Granola
3 cups old-fashioned oats
1 1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup raw almonds, lightly toasted and chopped
1/2 cup raw Hazelnuts, lightly toasted and chopped
3 Tbs. extra virgin olive oil
3 Tbs. raw honey
about 3/4 cup Rhubarb Sauce

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  In a sauté pan, lightly toast almonds and Hazelnuts and then take off heat to cool slightly.  Measure out three cups oats and pour into a mixing bowl.  Measure out vanilla, honey, oil and rhubarb sauce.  Mix until combined and then pour into oats.  Add toasted nuts and mix until combined.  Add more sauce as needed until the mixture is at the desired consistency.  Spoon into a baking sheet and bake for about 15-20 minutes, stirring half way through.