Soup, salad, sandwich. It's the holy trinity of lunch. Of course modern times have brought us wraps and personal pizzas and pad thai, but those original three standbys never get old—if you don't let them. Did your mother pack your lunch for school? Mine did, and I still vividly remember the  sandwiches on whole grain bread: tuna with alfalfa sprouts, cheese and avocado, liverwurst with mustard and (wilted) lettuce. On colder days there might have been a thermos of chicken-noodle soup or some leftover bean stew. On the side there were carrot and celery sticks. Maybe a small bag of Fritos. A crisp apple. Sometimes fig newtons or animal crackers. I was never ashamed of my lunch as I've read some kids are, nor did I ever trade with anybody. It was love from my mother and I ate it up. 

Now that I work from home, I can make myself whatever I like (or have time for). And yet it's still most often soup, salad or sandwich. I use what's in the fridge, generally focusing on vegetables, though not as a rule. If there are leftovers, that's always a possibility but I like to give them new life beyond a simple re-heat. Don't fall down when it comes to your lunch. Power your brain and body so you can get through that mid-afternoon slump. Take a real break and eat something meaningful, ideally something you've cooked yourself.
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You go along in life, understanding the course of things, but never really imagining that what you see others endure will befall you. That might be the definition of youth. Because, inevitably, it happens to you. To paraphrase Mia Farrow, life is a series of losses and it's all about the grace and resilience with which you respond. My former mother-in-law once looked at a photo of Liv Ullman on the cover of the New York Times Magazine and said, "Ugh, she's really let herself go." Never mind that the Swedish actress was being lauded for directing a film, what mattered to this woman was that a former beauty now looked like the 62-year-old she was. And I remember feeling disgusted by that, and vowing to forever construe "letting oneself go" as something quite liberating and wonderful.I let my grey hair come in over the past 2 years and there was a certain loss that needed to be mourned there; quietly, mind you. I went from a tousled brunette to an elegant silver without more than a whimper. But now that I am finding it difficult to fit into any of my clothes, now that my skin is becoming slacker and my muscle tone less defined—all those clichés of middle age—I begin to feel a bit of that desperation that sends women under the scalpel. I'm not going to start in with the whole I'm invisible routine. Unless you're Elle Macpherson, that pretty much sets in after age 40. And I'm lucky enough to have a husband who tells me I'm beautiful all the time. But, pathetic as it may be, I am newly committed to holding on to what I have for as long as possible. That entails lots of exercise and watching what I eat. Because, to me, being a glutton is all about expanding your palate not your waistline. It's being greedy for the things that are good and good for you. It means that lunch is about salad.
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Certain foods just have a universal appeal. Consider the dumpling, for instance. It's found in so many cultures, this rose by any other name: knedlíky (Czech), kreplach (Jewish), pantrucas (Chile), manti (Armenia), ravioli (Italy), buuz (Mongolia), pangsit (Indonesia), dim sum (China), gyoza (Japan), mandu (Korea)...the list goes on and on. Yogurt—and soured milk of all kinds—may not be quite as common, especially given that many African and Asian countries don't do dairy, but among those that do it's a deeply-held tradition. From straight-up yogurt to crème fraîche to quark to ricotta to paneer to Mexico's indigenous Nahuatl jocoque árabe, people have long been introducing bacteria or acid to milk with delectable results. Greek yogurt has become hugely popular in this country over the last few years, thanks in no small part to the ubiquitous Fage (pronounced "fa-yeh") brand and now Chobani, too. It's simply yogurt which has been strained to remove the whey, giving it a much denser, creamier texture. Sometimes this style of yogurt is even enriched with extra butterfat or powdered milk.
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This past weekend G and I attended a workshop about raising chickens. It's something we've been daydreaming about for a while, because we've long enjoyed the delicious eggs from River Brook Farm. And because we could really use the poop to fertilize our garden. So we signed up to learn about this ancient enterprise from Mark and Barbara Laino at Midsummer Farm in Warwick. This amazing couple is into organic, sustainable farming; they grow vegetables and herbs, raise animals, and hold down full-time jobs. Barbara is also a holistic nutritionist, and I was thrilled to see several pages of egg recipes from Nourishing Traditions (one of my bibles) in the packet they send home with you.

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I've been quite taken of late with all the little vegetable dishes on offer at restaurants of all sorts. Starters often include numerous ingeniously composed salads that really let seasonal produce shine. Sides are no longer merely a choice between boring steamed broccoli or french fries, and I've been known to make a whole meal from the enticing options—pureed squash with hazelnuts, chile-sauteed broccoli rabe, ragù of mushrooms, polenta with gorgonzola, fennel braised in cream. I think I've mentioned to you a few lovely meals I've had recently at A Voce, Missy Robbins' Italian-inflected restaurant in New York City's Time Warner Center. The lunch menu includes a selection of verdure, small vegetable dishes like eggplant with calabrian chile; beets with pistachios and orange; cauliflower with almonds and raisins; and a delightfully simple salad of radishes with an anchovy vinaigrette. After trying this last combination, I began craving it at home. It's crisp, salty and satisfying while still being light and healthy.
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I work from home. Sometimes this is a bad thing as it can lead to an inordinate number of days spent in general dishabille, aka slovenliness. Not to mention the pancake-ass that develops from endless sitting in my writing chair, sheepskin cover or no. But there's also the delight of taking my laptop to the couch, in front of a crackling fire; the joy of never having to speak to another human (UPS man notwithstanding); and the mixed blessing of being able to make myself lunch. Every. Single. Day. Even when I don't feel like cooking (because we all know that cooking for one can be a real bore), I just rustle around in the fridge and the cupboards, scouring for whatever strikes my fancy. Canned salmon? Maybe. Quesadilla? Occasionally. Soba noodles. OK. But most often—especially these veg-centric days—some configuration of lettuces and seeds and pickles that is entirely dependent on appetite, availability and inspiration. So this post is less a recipe than an invitation to paint with a palette of greens, as I did with the plate of arugula, spiced pumpkin seeds and ricotta salata (left over from this carrot salad), simply tossed with lemon juice and olive oil (pictured above).
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I don't have much time today (yes, I'm incredibly important and very busy) but I wanted to quickly remind you that this is high asparagus season and you should really take advantage! Whether you love them thick or thin, they are easy to cook and very versatile. You can even shave them thin, toss them with olive oil, lemon juice and salt, and enjoy them raw! They also have a diuretic property, which is nice for a bit of a spring detox. (Fun side note #1: I once heard that cows in Russia graze on wild asparagus. Fun side note #2: Not everyone can smell funky asparagus pee.) Hot or cold, boiled or roasted, in risotto or omelettes or slathered with an orange-zesty mayonniase, the asparagus is your friend. Here is a quick and easy recipe that makes a delicious lunch or a light supper.
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Can I tell you a little secret? I absolutely love eating lunch out by myself. As much as I enjoy meeting friends, I really like taking an hour out, relaxing with a book (on my Kindle!) or just taking in the sights. It doesn't have to be a fancy place—I'm a huge fan of the very low-key City Bakery—but I'll confess to having a weakness for fine dining. (What, you didn't know?!) I was in the Madison Square Park area, scarcely having recovered from dinner the previous night at Momofuku Ssam (where I accidentally ate a big piece of kimchi and had the WORST garlic breath for about 12 hours; OK, and I ate the MOST delicious lo mein noodles with trout roe and the skinniest ramps all afloat in pools of butter), and I had an hour or so to kill before a meeting, so I decided to duck into 11 Madison Park for a little luncheon. I knew I could eat at the bar there, having done so in the past, and I often prefer that when I'm alone. It's a very beautiful room, as you can see above, and pretty much everything about the place is perfection. The service, as at all of Danny Meyer's restaurants, is very friendly, but it's also rather formal here.
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By now you've probably all heard Michael Pollan's edict, "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." It's an approach to healthy eating that takes into account everything we now know about artery-clogging animal fats and the global ramifications of factory-farming; about the stress caused by over-eating and the benefits of calorie deprivation; about the value of antioxidants and flavanoids and fiber. But let's say you're too busy to read the books (Fast Food Nation, The Omnivore's Dilemma, In Defense of Food, Eating Animals), you haven't seen the movie (Food Inc.) and you just want to know a few things you can do every day, realistically, right now, to improve your diet. Again, my disclaimer: I am no health professional. I have simply read a lot about these issues and experimented with changing my own eating habits. I am not into deprivation. I am into consuming delicious foods that help me thrive.
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