Caleb turned nine months old this week. He's been outside my body longer than he was inside it now, which is a weird milestone but one that makes me realize how far we've come. Nine months of being a mother. Nine months of cooking for three instead of one. Nine months of learning that parenthood is the most repetitive and unpredictable thing simultaneously.
He's eating real food now — not just purées but small pieces of soft things. Banana chunks. Avocado (the California influence is already working). Tiny pieces of cheese. Cooked peas that he picks up one at a time with his pincer grip, which he developed this week and which he uses with the precision of a watchmaker.
I give him tastes of my cooking. A spoonful of mashed potatoes from the shepherd's pie. A smear of sauce from the pasta. A bite of the soft interior of Mom's biscuit. He tries everything with his forty-seven facial expressions and either opens his mouth for more or turns his head in rejection.
His favorites so far: sweet potatoes (Grandma's recipe), avocado (California), rice (Soo-Jin's influence), banana, and — surprisingly — the tiniest bite of Korean short rib that Soo-Jin gave him at dinner this week. The kid likes Korean food. He's a military baby: multicultural by default.
I've been thinking about the first Thanksgiving in California. It's months away, but Mom called and asked: 'Are you coming home?'
'We can't, Mom. Ryan can't get enough leave.'
Silence. The heavy kind. The kind where a mother in Virginia processes the fact that her daughter and grandson will be 2,500 miles away on Thanksgiving.
'Then I'll come to you,' she said. 'Dad and I. We'll fly.'
They're coming. They're flying to California for Thanksgiving. Mom has never flown to California. Dad has never been on a plane since he retired from the Navy. But they're coming because Donna Abernathy is not missing her grandson's first real Thanksgiving, and Kevin Abernathy goes where Donna goes.
I made fish tacos tonight — a California recipe, learned from a neighbor's recommendation. Grilled white fish, shredded cabbage, avocado crema, lime, cilantro. Served on corn tortillas. This is not a recipe from Mom's binder. This is a recipe from HERE. From California. From the place I live now.
The binder grows. Mom's foundation. Soo-Jin's Korean food. Sandra's popcorn balls. And now: fish tacos. Rachel's fish tacos, learned in California, from a neighbor, in a base housing kitchen with a palm tree outside the window.
The binder is mine now. Not just Mom's — mine. Every new recipe is a choice I made, a friendship I built, a place I lived.
It's getting thick. Volume one might need a volume two soon.
Grandma Donna has five volumes. I'm working on my first.
But I'm working.
The fish tacos were the headline that night, but it’s the lighter, no-fuss California recipes that have been quietly filling the middle pages of my binder — the ones I reach for on a Tuesday when Caleb is fussy and I need something on the table fast. These Cucumber Tuna Boats came from the same neighbor who pointed me toward the tacos: fresh, crisp, done in fifteen minutes, and somehow more “California” than anything I grew up eating in Virginia. They’re Caleb-adjacent too — soft avocado on the side, a little scoop of tuna he can taste — and they remind me every time I make them that the binder I’m building is made of exactly this: small, bright, chosen-on-purpose recipes from the place I actually live.
Cucumber Tuna Boats
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 large English cucumbers
- 2 cans (5 oz each) solid white tuna in water, drained
- 3 tablespoons mayonnaise
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 2 stalks celery, finely chopped
- 2 tablespoons red onion, finely minced
- 1 tablespoon fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- Paprika and sliced scallions, for garnish
Instructions
- Prep the cucumbers. Slice each cucumber in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and a shallow channel down the center of each half, creating four sturdy “boats.” Pat the insides dry with a paper towel so the filling stays put.
- Make the tuna filling. In a medium bowl, combine the drained tuna, mayonnaise, lemon juice, celery, red onion, dill, and garlic powder. Stir until evenly mixed. Season generously with salt and pepper and taste to adjust.
- Fill the boats. Spoon the tuna mixture evenly into each cucumber half, mounding it slightly in the center.
- Garnish and serve. Dust each boat with a pinch of paprika and scatter sliced scallions over the top. Serve immediately, or cover and refrigerate for up to two hours before serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 155 | Protein: 19g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 330mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 177 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.
