My weekday lunch is never something planned. It's inspired by my mood and defined by whatever is available in the fridge and pantry. Occasionally I will do leftovers, but not very often. Whereas G will often eat for breakfast what we dined on the previous night, I like to eat something different every day and generally keep it light. Soups can be quick, easy and satisfying, and especially appealing when it's cold out, but I also find myself craving salads with bright, bold flavors. I like easy tosses of greens, nuts and cheese; jumbles of quickly blanched vegetables dressed with vinaigrette; combinations of chopped things like fennel, pecorino and hot chile; even mayonnaise-glossed seafood stuffed into avocado halves or piled on top of crisp lettuce. Perhaps my favorite, in the classic tradition of the salade composée, are distinct but complementary elements arranged together in a wide shallow bowl. The composed salad needs an artful balance of textures, flavors and colors, so it demands consideration and creativity, which I'm always willing to exercise when it comes to lunch.
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It's a moment for feasting. Wherever we turn, we're inundated with images of glistening roasts and spun-sugar delights—and with the real things, too. No one arrives without a bottle of champagne or a plate of cookies. Fudge abounds. The scent of bacon permeates the air. No wonder we're all bloated and cranky, popping Tums and yearning for naps. Go for it, if you must. But remember, every meal doesn't have to be a pig-out just because "it's the holidays." While everyone else is tempting you with nutella-frosted monkey bread and seventeen-cheese lasagna, I'm going to present you with a lighter option that doesn't skimp on luxurious flavor. It's great cocktail party fare and makes a lovely lunch, or a light supper if you've had an over-indulgent day. Consider it my gift to you.

(And don't forget to leave a comment here to be in the running for my giveaway of three superb spice blends from La Boîte à Epices!)
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Seeds. Water. Light. Life! That's all it takes. Just shy of 5 days, and hardy little shoots are springing out, so vibrant and crisp. A reminder of how eager cells are to divide, and how little they require to thrive. The pea shoots are tender and crunchy, full of vivid pea flavor. The broccoli sprouts are smaller and more tender, with a delicate but recognizable taste. They are ready to eat now: stirred into soups, tossed in salads, layered in sandwiches, simply dressed with a little lemon juice and sesame oil, blended in juice.
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My hemp sprouting bags arrived this week, so I wanted to give you a little update on the whole sprouting project. I ordered two bags, plus dried green peas, broccoli seeds and sunflower seeds, from the good people at Raw Guru. They say hemp breathes and dries even better than cotton or linen, and is naturally antibiotic, so it's the perfect environment for sprouting. That website is a real rabbit hole for me, I can get lost for way too long poring over dehydrators and sprouters and raw agave and virgin coconut oil...yet another resource from which I can obsessively stock the larder. Anyhoo, I "sterilized" the bags per the instructions by dousing them with boiling water and then, after soaking a cup of peas and a couple of tablespoons of broccoli seeds in two clean jars filled with water for about 6 hours, I poured them into the bags. And there they hang.
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Has the light appeared at the end of the tunnel? The days are definitely getting longer. Daylight savings is right around the corner. And soon, delicate shoots and buds will begin to festoon the skeletal branches of winter. But I've got the blues, baby, and I'm dancing as fast as I can to shake them from my weary bones. On mornings like this, the sun on my face is a balm, a promise of better days to come. I thank my stars for the roof over my head and the love of a good man, but there is a heaviness in my soul that, like a magnet, seems to dredge up all the pain and bitter disappointments I have ever known.

This, too, shall pass. Because everything always does. I have no child upon whose steady growth to mark the passage of time, but the ever-changing seasons tell it all. The snowdrifts out my window will give way to Queen Anne's lace and monkeyweed, Japanese beetles will streak by in a flash of iridescence, and I will crush tomato leaves between my dirty fingers and inhale the smell of summer. In the meantime, I will harness the raw energy of the sun, chewing and swallowing it in the form of life-giving sprouts.
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