European Tossed Salad

November. The first November without Babcia Rose, which means: the first November where she is not making pierogi for the pre-Christmas season, not planning the golabki quantities, not calling Patty about the holiday menu with the efficiency of a woman who has organized ninety years of family meals and knows exactly what is needed and when. The kitchen at Steve and Patty's feels different. Not empty — Patty is a magnificent cook and she is in that kitchen — but differently arranged, the way a room feels after you move furniture: familiar and changed at once.

Dziadek Wally came to Sunday dinner and he was quieter than the last two visits, which were already quieter than before. He ate well. He held Nora for a while and she sat still for him in the particular way she sits still for Wally, which is the same way she sat still for Babcia Rose: as if she understands, at some level below language, that some people require a different kind of attention. He said "Myszka's girl" to Nora, which is what he calls her, and Nora looked at him and said "Wally" and touched his hand and that was the most I have seen him engaged in a month.

I made the mushroom soup from the notebook again. I have made it six times now. Each time it is closer. This time Patty said it was "very good" without the qualifier, without the "almost," just "very good." I said: I think I'm getting there. She said: yes, you are. This is progress. This is what love looks like in November: getting closer to someone's recipe, one batch at a time, until one day it is yours.

Ryan and I talked about Christmas this week. The first Christmas without Babcia Rose. Neither of us said that phrase. We talked about what we wanted it to look like, how we wanted the twins to feel it, whether we would keep the traditions intact or whether some things needed to shift. We decided: keep everything. Every dish, every ritual. Babcia Rose was the traditions. The traditions are how she stays.

The mushroom soup was the center of the table that Sunday — but Patty always puts out a salad alongside, the same one she has made for as long as I can remember, bright and tangy and completely unfussy, the kind of dish that does not ask anything of you. I realized, watching Dziadek Wally help himself to a second serving, that the salad is part of the tradition too: not the headline, never the headline, but always there. This is the recipe that lives beside the heavier things.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 small head romaine lettuce, chopped
1 medium English cucumber, thinly sliced
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup kalamata olives, pitted
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/4 cup thinly sliced radishes
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, oregano, and garlic powder until emulsified. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.
Prep the vegetables. Wash and dry the romaine thoroughly, then chop into bite-sized pieces. Slice the cucumber, halve the tomatoes, and slice the red onion as thinly as you can — a mandoline works well if you have one.
Assemble the salad. Combine the romaine, cucumber, tomatoes, red onion, olives, and radishes in a large salad bowl. Toss gently to distribute evenly.
Dress and finish. Drizzle the vinaigrette over the salad and toss to coat. Scatter the crumbled feta over the top. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

European Tossed Salad — The Side Dish That Keeps Showing Up at the Table