Lemon Rice Salad — The Side Dish That Found Its Way to a Spring Salmon Sunday

The real spring arrived this week. The snow went out completely by Tuesday, the lawn was visibly green by Friday, the daffodils in the bed by the front porch began their first push, and the maples on the road in began their first faint reddening — the buds swelling into the tiny red flowers that come before the leaves, the trees announcing their own version of the season several weeks ahead of the leaf-out. I have always preferred the red-flower week of the maples to the leaf-out week. The flowers are private — most people do not notice them, do not know they are flowers, drive past assuming the trees are still bare — and the privacy of the announcement has always struck me as the trees' way of starting the year on their own terms, before the rest of the world catches up.

I worked in Helen's garden Saturday for the first time this year — the first three hours of garden work, the kind of session that I used to do without thinking about it and that now requires a real consideration of how much my body can absorb in a single afternoon. I cleared the winter mulch off the perennial beds, raked out the dead leaves and twigs that had blown in over the winter, cut back the old asters and black-eyed Susans to ground level so the new growth would have room. The daylilies were already pushing up six inches of green and the irises had begun their fans. The garden does not need me. The perennials would come back regardless. But the small attentions I give it are part of what makes it Helen's garden rather than just a patch of perennials, the work of maintaining a thing being part of the way the thing is loved.

Made a salmon Sunday — the first salmon of the season, baked in foil with butter and lemon and dill, served with new potatoes from the bag I bought at the co-op and that were the first new potatoes I have eaten this calendar year. The salmon in spring is one of the small consolations of being in a household of one, because Helen would not eat salmon (she said it tasted like a fish that had been in the river too long, which is not what salmon means but which I never quite managed to argue her out of), and salmon was therefore a thing I did not eat for forty-one years and that I have rediscovered in widowhood. The discovery has been a surprise. There are dishes I make now that I did not make for decades because Helen would not have eaten them, and the small expansion of my menu in the years since 2021 has been one of the unexpected small gifts of this strange phase of my life. I do not say this on the blog. I do not need to say it on the blog. The blog is for cooking, not for the negotiations of memory.

Anna arrived Friday afternoon for her weekend at the farmhouse — she drove up from Brattleboro after work, arrived at six, ate a light supper of the last of the chicken pot pie warmed up in the oven, and went to bed early. Saturday she walked the woodlot in the morning, helped me in the garden in the afternoon, read by the woodstove in the evening with a glass of red wine and a book. We did not talk much. We did not need to talk much. Anna is the grandchild who has learned to be present without filling the air, and a weekend with her is a weekend that requires nothing of me except that I be present too, which I can do, which I am increasingly grateful to be able to do, because Anna will continue to come up for these weekends as long as she can and I will continue to be glad of her company until the day I cannot, and that day is not yet here.

The salmon that Sunday was simple — foil, butter, lemon, dill, forty minutes in the oven — and it wanted something alongside it that was equally unhurried, something that would not compete. The lemon rice salad I made has become a quiet habit of mine in the warmer months: it comes together while the salmon is in the oven, it keeps well if there are leftovers, and the lemon in it rhymes with the lemon on the fish in a way that feels considered without requiring any actual consideration. Anna had already gone back to Brattleboro by Sunday, so I made a full batch and ate it across two days, which is its own small pleasure.

Lemon Rice Salad

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 cup long-grain white rice
• 2 cups water or low-sodium chicken broth
• 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
• 1 teaspoon lemon zest
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/3 cup finely diced celery
• 1/4 cup finely diced red onion
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill (or 1 teaspoon dried)

Instructions

1. Cook the rice. Bring water or broth to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add rice and 1/4 teaspoon salt, stir once, then reduce heat to low. Cover and cook for 18 minutes, or until liquid is absorbed and rice is tender.
2. Make the dressing. While the rice cooks, whisk together the lemon juice, lemon zest, olive oil, remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt, and black pepper in a small bowl until combined.
3. Season the hot rice. Transfer the cooked rice to a wide bowl and pour about two-thirds of the dressing over it immediately. Toss gently to coat — dressing absorbs better into warm rice.
4. Add the vegetables and herbs. Fold in the celery, red onion, parsley, and dill. Taste and add the remaining dressing as needed. Adjust salt and pepper.
5. Serve or rest. Serve warm alongside baked salmon or another simple main, or allow to cool to room temperature. The salad holds well for up to two days refrigerated — bring to room temperature before serving and refresh with a small squeeze of lemon if needed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 240 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 33g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 310mg