Garden Cucumber Tomato Salad

First full week as a retired man. The transition is — I don't know what to call it. Not jarring, exactly. The shape of the day is unfamiliar. I keep waking at 5:30 AM and thinking I have somewhere to be. I make coffee. I sit on the back porch. I read the news on the tablet Emma made me buy. By 8 AM, on a normal weekday, I would be on the road to my first client. Now at 8 AM I am on the porch with my second cup of coffee, watching the cardinals at the feeder, and the cardinals don't care.

I built a structure for the days, because Mai's answer to "what will you do" is a real question that requires a real answer. Mondays — restaurant prep day; I go in at 1 PM and help Lily and James get ready for the week. Tuesdays — AA in the morning at the church, smoker in the afternoon. Wednesdays — Mai's house; mow the lawn, fix whatever needs fixing, eat lunch with her. Thursdays — open day; whatever needs doing, errands, fishing if the weather's right (haven't been fishing in three years, planning to start again). Fridays — restaurant lunch service support; busy day, helps cover the new staff. Saturdays — pho at Mai's. Sundays — backyard cookout; whoever wants to come, comes.

The structure isn't for me. I would do all of these things anyway. The structure is so that when Mai asks "what did you do today" I have an answer. She asks every day. She asked yesterday. I said, "I made you a salad. I read the news. I lit the smoker." She said, "Good." Mai approves of structure. She built her life on it. I am her son. I learned by watching.

Made bún chả Hà Nội Sunday — the Hanoi-style grilled pork over rice noodles with herbs and dipping sauce that Aunt Huong taught Mai to make properly during her visit last year. Mai came over for it. She took a bite and said, "Huong does this better." I said, "I know." She said, "But you do it well enough." From Mai, well enough is excellent. We ate the whole platter between us. Then Mai sat in my recliner and fell asleep for an hour. I watched her sleep. I have never seen her sleep before. Mai doesn't sleep, she rests. But this was sleeping. Eighty-seven years catching up to her in a recliner that doesn't belong to her, in a house she didn't build, while her son washed dishes in the kitchen because the son can do that now, all day, every day, forever.

When Mai asked what I did that day and I listed it out — the salad, the news, the smoker — the salad came first because it was the smallest thing and somehow the most deliberate. I had time to make it properly: cucumbers sliced thin, tomatoes from the garden, nothing rushed. It was the first time in years I made something for her without watching the clock. This is the salad I made her. She didn’t comment on it. That’s how I knew it was right.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min (plus 15 min rest) | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 large cucumbers, thinly sliced
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved (or 2 medium tomatoes, chopped)
1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons fresh parsley or dill, chopped
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Prep the vegetables. Slice cucumbers into thin rounds — about 1/8-inch. Halve the cherry tomatoes. Slice the red onion as thin as you can manage. Add everything to a large mixing bowl.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the red wine vinegar, olive oil, sugar, and garlic powder until the sugar dissolves. Taste and adjust — add more vinegar if you want more brightness, more oil if it’s too sharp.
Combine. Pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss gently to coat. Season with salt and black pepper.
Rest before serving. Let the salad sit for 15 minutes at room temperature before serving. The cucumbers will release a little water and the flavors will settle together. Stir once more, top with fresh herbs, and serve.

Nutrition (per serving)

Garden Cucumber Tomato Salad — The One I Made for Mai