Cookbook Challenge #7: A Delicious Salad Full of Things We Hate

Meal planning in our house generally careens between obsessively-detailed lists of all-new recipes culled from my (far too large) collection and complete, total, utter laziness. I tend to feel pretty ambitious on Sunday mornings when I make my grocery list – I believe that Imaginary Mom takes advantage as that first cup of coffee kicks in - but between the lure of books, the distraction of other chores, the gravitational pull of teenagers in front of the TV watching something interesting, and the horror of crowded grocery stores, the actual shopping doesn’t get done until Monday mornings. Since I work mid-day Monday, this means the imagined meal prep doesn’t actually happen and we end up cooking dinner start to finish during the week like everyone else. It would actually be interesting (to me, anyway) to record the progression of our pre-dinner conversations; I imagine it would be something like this.

Monday: I’m working tonight, so my completely-unnecessary Working Mother Guilt has driven me to prepare this delicious meal for you – all you need to do it heat it up/throw it under the broiler/open the slow cooker and steam the healthy fresh vegetables that I’ve lovingly cut up for you.

Tuesday: It’s so nice to be home with you tonight. I planned a nice complicated meal to make up for the fact that I wasn’t here yesterday even though you were all doing your own thing and didn’t even notice I was gone. All the ingredients are neatly organized in the fridge chronologically.

Wednesday: I know I bought all the ingredients for this; they’re in here somewhere. This recipe doesn’t look familiar and I’m not sure why I picked it earlier this week but – oh, right, we’re missing that one key ingredient but that’s okay, we can improvise. Also we’re starting dinner later than I wanted, why are there all these dirty pans on the stove? No, it’s okay, I don’t mind eating right before bedtime…

Thursday: Am I the only person who knows how to clean anything around here? I don’t remember what we’re having. I wrote it down on the calendar. Do you look at the calendar? Isn’t it someone else’s turn to cook? This is an important life skill. Seriously, I need a nap before I can even look at you holding a knife, much less help. Yes, frozen peas are fine, I can’t find whatever vegetable was supposed to go with this anyway.

Friday: Every single day, you people want to eat. I’m over it. Feed yourselves.

So the search for a middle ground continues. (And I legitimately enjoy cooking. If you hate cooking I can imagine all the weeks might start on Friday and believe me, I'm not judging anyone.)

There are a couple of issues at play here, and I’m betting that everyone is dealing with at least one of them (not necessarily the same one, either) every single day.

1. We have legit food restrictions around here
2. My picky eater is a moving target
3. We're tired by the end of the day
4. Everyone likes a lot of variety, even if they say they’d happily eat the same 5 meals every week that’s a lie and I journaled about the tantrum that resulted when I tried it
5. Cleaning the kitchen is a job that nobody thinks should belong to them regardless of who’s cooking

Given all of this, it’s a rare delight to pick out something that I’m pretty sure everyone will hate (chosen because I want it, and to hell with you all because I can only eat so much broccoli on the side) and then it’s surprisingly delicious and everyone likes it and it keeps well in the fridge and morphs into a whole other meal and your daughter says, “Mom, you should totally blog that. We can make it on vacation.”

I’m slowly overcoming my loathing of olives, and we kept the feta and tomatoes on the side so David didn’t get poisoned. Sitting in the fridge for an hour does something magical to tame the onion and fennel, which both my kids normally hate. Everything stays crispy for Day 2, and there’s no mayo or egg or cooking or fussing so you could totally take this to a potluck and ignore it. It’s good as-is but also likes the leftover rotisserie chicken in the fridge. You could throw it into a pita and make a sandwich of it. I’m not a big improviser but I can see there is lots of potential here, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a regular on our table this summer.

From Cooking Light Annual Recipes 2011.

Fresh Mediterranean Salad

3 tablespoons red wine vinegar

2 tablespoons water

1 tsp dried oregano

1 tsp freshly ground black pepper

1 tsp Dijon mustard

½ tsp kosher salt

2 garlic cloves, chopped

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 cups thinly sliced fennel

1 ½ cups thinly sliced red onion

1 cup olives, pitted and halved

¾ cup chopped fresh parsley

½ cup crumbled feta

1 can cannellini beans, rinsed and drained

6 plum tomatoes, quartered

Mix the vinaigrette ingredients together. Drizzle over salad ingredients, cover, and chill at least an hour. See above re: the flexibility, tastiness, and general happiness that will be caused by this salad.