By April now. The garden is going in — Terry's and mine, such as ours is. We rent a house with a small backyard, not the land I want, not yet. But I have four raised beds I built two summers ago from cedar planks and I plant them every spring. Tomatoes, peppers, okra in July, herbs. Nothing traditional exactly, though Hannah has added a section of the bed for a few heritage Cherokee varieties she got through the Cherokee Nation seed library — Cherokee Purple tomatoes, which are a specific heirloom that traces back to Cherokee Nation families, and a traditional pole bean. The seeds connect to someone's grandmother's garden in ways I am still learning to understand.
Kai planted seeds with me Saturday. We planted the tomato seedlings — I started them indoors in February — and the pepper seeds, pressing each one into the soil with his finger and covering it carefully. He asked where vegetables came from before they were plants. I said from seeds. He asked where seeds came from before they were seeds. I said from the vegetables before them. He considered this and said "forever," which is essentially correct and which stopped me cold for a moment.
Luna has started walking. Ten months old, eight days ago she took three steps across the living room floor and then sat down hard and looked surprised at herself. Since then she has been taking more steps every day. She is not walking the way Kai walked at this age, which was cautious, testing each footfall. Luna walks like she is moving toward something she has identified and does not want to miss. She is going to be — I already know this — she is going to be the one who does not hesitate.
I made Cherokee Purple tomatoes on toast last fall, the ones I had grown the previous year, and they were extraordinary — richer and more complex than anything from the store, with a dark flesh and a flavor that hit multiple notes at once. This year's plants are in the ground. August feels very far away. But the seeds are forever, the way Kai said, and I am going to wait.
The pole beans Hannah planted alongside the Cherokee Purple tomatoes are the reason I keep coming back to this salad every summer — there is something about pulling a bean you watched emerge from a seed your daughter pressed into the soil that makes even a simple dish feel weighted with meaning. While August and the tomatoes are still a long way off, the beans come earlier, and this Fresh Green Bean Salad with Balsamic Dressing is the first real garden meal of the season in our house. Kai already knows it’s coming. He’s been watching the beds.
Fresh Green Bean Salad with Balsamic Dressing
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb fresh green beans, trimmed
- 1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
- 1/2 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
- 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
- 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1 small garlic clove, minced
- 1/2 teaspoon honey
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Instructions
- Blanch the beans. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the trimmed green beans and cook for 3–4 minutes until bright green and just tender-crisp. Drain immediately and transfer to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. Drain well and pat dry.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the balsamic vinegar, olive oil, Dijon mustard, minced garlic, and honey until emulsified. Season with salt and black pepper to taste.
- Assemble the salad. In a large bowl, combine the blanched green beans, sliced red onion, and halved cherry tomatoes. Drizzle the balsamic dressing over the top and toss gently to coat.
- Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving platter or bowl and scatter the crumbled feta over the top. Serve immediately at room temperature, or refrigerate for up to 30 minutes before serving for a slightly chilled version.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 120 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 180mg