Open your eyes and see what you can with them before they close forever.

Anthony Doerr, All The Light We Cannot See

Spring is here with all of its unpredictable and sometimes heartbreaking weather. I struggle to embrace the changes and have taken to drinking ginger lemon tea, an ayurvedic remedy to help soothe the combination of exhaustion and nervous energy that I feel this time of year. Constantly, I reorient myself toward gratitude. The tulips seem more exquisite than ever before. My soul is stirred and inspired by the authenticity and courage of people I’ve never met but who have been through some of the same pain that I have experienced. I feel connection that I long for, connection that feels more and more rare in a world where every conversation seems fraught.

I add another prefix to things that I’ve “survived” but I also realize that the memories of cancer still haunt me. Maybe they always will. I long to travel, to get away from these walls where I’ve experienced all the fear, nausea, loneliness, exhaustion. But I also find comfort in the simple things- tiny salads of weeds and greens that miraculously survived the winter, the way my body feels different after practicing yoga, trips to farm stands that have opened for the season, bouquets of ranunculus at the farmers’ market that I can’t resist bringing home with me.

All of this has put me in a very reflective mood. I realize that this world of recipes, photographs, linens and ceramics can all feel so staged, so fake. It feels vulnerable sharing these experiences because they are so personal and the world can be awful cruel, especially to those seeking to live a wholehearted life. To me, the garden and kitchen are spaces where I can do something that is more and more radical- I can slow down and really use my eyes to see what I can with them. Learning the skill of photography is teaching me to see things I’ve never noticed before- the way the light falls across linen, all the colors of a vibrant vegetable curry, the movement of steam rising from a cup of tea. Carving out space to engage my senses paves a path to wonder- and wonder is food for the soul.

I’m using one of my 4x4ft raised beds to grow lettuce, scallions, and radishes. I call it the “salad bowl” and I plan to keep replanting/transplanting items once I’ve harvested them. Despite lows in the 20s this week, this bed did well under the protection of an Agribon AG-19 cover. I was surprised to see how much growth there was after 5 days of cold temps and cover. Some of the radishes as well as the first, tender, mild arugula of the season were ready for harvest today so I combined them with black quinoa, feta, and a lemon viniagrette for this spring salad.

black quinoa and radish salad with arugula and feta

Recipe by Keri

Servings

4

servings

Prep time

20

minutes

This is a very flexible salad. You can vary the amounts drastically depending on what you have on hand. Even a simple salad of arugula and quinoa with a lemon vinaigrette is fantastic. It is a great side salad for pan-fried trout, salmon, or chicken. You can also substitute grilled halloumi cheese for the feta.

Ingredients

• 2 cups of cooked black quinoa

• 1 bunch of radishes, chopped, grated or sliced thinly

• 1 cup chopped scallions

• 4 cups baby arugula

• 1/3 cup feta, crumbled

• 1 clove garlic, grated on a microplane

• 2 tbsp lemon juice

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• pinch salt

Directions

• Combine garlic, lemon juice and salt in a small bowl and allow to sit for 10 min.
• Add quinoa, radishes, scallions, arugula and feta to a large bowl and combine gently with your hands.
• Add olive oil to the lemon juice mixture and whisk to combine. Pour mixture over the salad and mix well.