Garden Bow Tie Salad

Thanksgiving. I worked on the Filipino Community gathering Saturday — three hundred lumpia, vats of pancit. eight at Angela's for the American Thanksgiving Thursday. Turkey James grilled. Pancit alongside. Lumpia, of course, lumpia.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous.

I made pancit Sunday. The long-life noodle. The Filipino default. The dish you make when you do not know what to make.

I drafted a blog post on Tuesday and almost did not publish it. I published it Friday. The publishing was the practice.

The kitchen window faced the inlet. The inlet was silver in the late light. The light was the inheritance.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

I made pancit Sunday — the long-life noodle, the Filipino default — and by the end of the week I was still thinking about noodles as an act of care. When I want to bring that same spirit to a table that includes everyone, the kitchens-of-Anchorage kind of table, this Garden Bow Tie Salad is what I reach for: bright colors, simple work, enough for a crowd. Lourdes would approve. The noodle is the noodle, wherever you find it.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 32 min (plus chilling) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

12 oz bow tie (farfalle) pasta
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1 cup cucumber, quartered and sliced
1 cup fresh broccoli florets, cut small
1/2 cup red bell pepper, diced
1/2 cup yellow bell pepper, diced
1/3 cup red onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup black olives, sliced
1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
3/4 cup Italian dressing (store-bought or homemade)
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook bow tie pasta according to package directions until al dente, about 10–12 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold water to stop cooking. Spread on a sheet pan and let cool completely.
Prep the vegetables. While pasta cools, halve the cherry tomatoes, slice the cucumber, chop the broccoli into small florets, dice both bell peppers, and finely chop the red onion. Slice the olives if not pre-sliced.
Combine. In a large bowl, toss the cooled pasta with all the prepared vegetables and the sliced olives. Add the shredded Parmesan and fresh parsley.
Dress and season. Pour the Italian dressing over the salad and toss well to coat everything evenly. Season with salt and black pepper to taste. Add more dressing if the salad looks dry.
Chill. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving so the flavors meld. Toss again just before serving and adjust seasoning or dressing as needed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Garden Bow Tie Salad — The Long-Life Noodle, Any Way You Make It