Grapefruit Spinach Salad

April rain. The garden coming alive. Amazon this week. Sprint planning Tuesday. Two hours of meetings I could have been a Slack message.

Hana, 1, a small loud animal. She mostly eats rice and bananas. Jisoo FaceTimed Tuesday. We made doenjang jjigae together — me in Wallingford, her in Haeundae. Eleven thousand miles. The same soup.

Made spring kimchi this week. Younger flavor, less aggressive. The summer batch will be different.

Drove to Bellevue Saturday. Karen was tired. I brought soft food. She ate.

I sat at the kitchen counter Sunday with a notebook open. The writing came slow. The writing came.

Jisoo sent a photo of the dol the kids did for our visit last summer. The photo went on the fridge.

David came over for Sunday dinner. He brought some tomatoes from the Bellevue garden.

Hana left a Lego on the kitchen floor. I stepped on it at two AM. Standard.

Therapy Tuesday with Dr. Kim. We talked about the parents — the two sets, the one living, the one gone, the one who became real after thirty years and the one who was real my whole life and is now gone. The work is the layered work.

Yoga Tuesday morning at the studio. The forward fold released something I had been carrying in the shoulder. The mat is the mat.

The Capitol Hill apartment kitchen is small. We make it work.

Reading at night. A novel by a Korean-American writer about a family in 1990s LA. I underlined four sentences. The underlining is the marking-of-the-territory of the soul.

My Korean is improving. Slowly. Painfully. Conversationally adequate now. I can argue about kimchi proportions in two languages, which is a milestone in any marriage between mother and daughter.

Sunday farmers market on Wallingford Avenue. The kabocha at the Asian vendor's stall. The shishito peppers. The brokered conversation. We bought too much. We always do.

A blog reader wrote about her own adoptee experience. We exchanged three emails this week.

Rain on the porch all afternoon Saturday. The Wallingford rain is its own weather. I sat with a book and a tea and did not move for two hours.

Sprint review at Amazon Friday. Two hours. I could have been on a podcast.

The newsletter went out Sunday morning. The opening sentence took an hour. The piece took five. The piece was what it needed to be.

I made coffee at seven. Hana ate cereal at seven-fifteen. Min wandered down at seven-twenty-five. James left for work at eight. The morning was the morning. The standard.

The shiso on the south fence is fragrant and unruly. I brushed past it taking the compost out and the smell stopped me. The smell is the country. The smell is Jisoo's apartment.

James and I had date night Friday. Indian restaurant on 45th. We ate too much. We sat in the car after talking about nothing for an hour. The marriage is the marriage.

I sat at the kitchen counter at six AM with a notebook and a cup of green tea. Writing time before the house wakes. The pre-light hour is the only writing hour I trust.

The kimchi crock was bubbling Saturday morning when I checked. The bubbling is the right bubbling. The fermentation knew what it was doing.

I read a thread on the Korean Adoptee subreddit Saturday. Some posts brought up old anger. Most are people figuring it out in real time. We are not unique. We are a community.

I texted Jisoo a photo of the kimchi in the new onggi pot. She replied with the thumb-up emoji and a Korean-language critique. The duality is the gift.

The spring kimchi this week was intentionally lighter — younger flavor, less fermented heat — and that restraint was on my mind when I thought about what else to make with all the produce we dragged home from the Wallingford farmers market. A grapefruit spinach salad felt exactly right: tart without being aggressive, bright without showing off, the kind of thing that sits easily next to a bowl of rice or a cup of doenjang jjigae. It’s what April tastes like when you’re paying attention.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

6 cups fresh baby spinach, washed and dried
2 large grapefruits, peeled and segmented (pink or ruby red)
1/4 red onion, very thinly sliced
1/3 cup toasted walnuts or pecans
1/4 cup crumbled feta or goat cheese
1/4 cup thinly sliced cucumber (optional)
Dressing:
3 tablespoons fresh grapefruit juice (squeezed from segmenting)
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar or rice vinegar
1 teaspoon honey or maple syrup
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Instructions

Segment the grapefruit. Using a sharp paring knife, cut away the peel and pith. Slice between membranes to release clean segments over a bowl, reserving any juice that collects for the dressing.
Make the dressing. Whisk together the grapefruit juice, vinegar, honey, and Dijon mustard in a small bowl. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil while whisking until emulsified. Season with salt and pepper.
Toast the nuts. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast walnuts or pecans for 3—4 minutes, stirring frequently, until fragrant. Remove from heat and let cool.
Assemble the salad. Place spinach in a large bowl. Add grapefruit segments, red onion, cucumber if using, and cooled nuts. Drizzle dressing over the top and toss gently to coat.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving platter or individual plates. Crumble feta or goat cheese over the top. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grapefruit Spinach Salad — Spring at the Counter, Bright on the Plate