By Jen asked me something last weekend that I've been picking up and setting down like a rock I found on the trail that's interesting but heavy. She asked if I thought I'd ever get married. Not pointed toward us specifically — I don't think she meant it that way — just a genuine question about what I wanted for my life. I said I didn't know. She said: That's a long time to not know. I said I was thirty-four. She said she knew.
There wasn't a fight. I want to be clear about that because in the telling it can sound like a fight. It wasn't. It was just a moment when I felt the edges of something that might eventually become a wall if I'm not careful. I've built that wall before. I know what the first bricks look like. I was watching myself set them and I didn't quite know how to stop.
Work was good this week. Added an account over near Reed Point — a woman named Carol who runs an organic vegetable farm and keeps four horses for riding lessons. She'd been doing the feet herself for two years and they were in rough shape, overgrown and uneven. I spent an extra hour on the first visit just getting them back to where they should be. Carol watched the whole time and asked good questions. The kind of client who wants to understand the work, not just have it done. I respect that.
Made grilled flatbread Saturday with Jen before she drove back. Just flour, salt, olive oil, water — the simplest possible dough, cooked on a cast iron grill pan over high heat. We ate it with hummus and sliced cucumber and mint from the garden, which sounds simple because it is. Sometimes the simplest food is the clearest food. No noise to it. You taste what you made and nothing else. Jen said it was her favorite thing we'd cooked together. I wrote down the proportions after she left so I wouldn't forget.
I wrote down the proportions for the flatbread after Jen left, not because I was afraid I’d forget the recipe exactly, but because I wanted to hold onto something from that afternoon—the simplicity of it, the quiet. This avocado toast carries the same spirit: a few honest ingredients, nothing to hide behind, just the taste of what you made. It’s the kind of food I come back to when I want to feel like I’m paying attention.
Avocado Toast
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 2
Ingredients
- 2 slices thick-cut bread (sourdough or rustic country bread)
- 1 large ripe avocado
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
- Fresh cracked black pepper, to taste
- Optional toppings: thinly sliced cucumber, fresh mint leaves, a drizzle of olive oil
Instructions
- Toast the bread. Place bread slices in a toaster or on a cast iron grill pan over medium-high heat. Toast until golden and firm, about 2–3 minutes per side on the pan, or until your preferred crispness in the toaster.
- Mash the avocado. Halve the avocado and remove the pit. Scoop the flesh into a small bowl. Add lemon juice and sea salt, then mash with a fork to your preferred texture—leave it a little chunky for character.
- Season. Taste the mash and adjust salt and lemon as needed. Add a small drizzle of olive oil and stir to incorporate.
- Assemble. Spread the avocado mash generously over each slice of toasted bread. Top with cracked black pepper, a pinch of red pepper flakes if using, and any optional toppings—cucumber and fresh mint work especially well.
- Serve immediately. Avocado toast is best eaten right away, while the bread is still crisp and warm beneath the cool, creamy avocado.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 280 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 310mg