By I listed 6 new properties this week — each one a different story, a different kitchen, a different family waiting to happen. The spring market is alive with the particular energy of people who have decided this is the year they change their address and their life.
Sophia came home with straight A's on her progress report and announced it with the casual confidence of a girl who expects excellence from herself and receives it. She has Nikos's pride — the kind that pretends not to care while caring so fiercely it has its own gravitational field.
The bakery smelled like honey this morning when I stopped by. That smell — warm honey and butter and the faint yeast of dough rising — is the smell of my childhood and my mother and my father and every Sunday morning of my life. Some smells are time machines. The bakery is mine.
I grilled halloumi tonight with a squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of honey. The cheese squeaked between my teeth the way good halloumi should. The kitchen smelled like lemon and charcoal and I thought: this is what survives. Not the money or the stress or the arguments about phyllo. The food survives. The recipes survive. The love baked into every dish survives.
The house was quiet this evening. I sat at the kitchen table with a glass of wine and the remains of dinner and I thought about all the tables I have sat at — Mama's table in Tarpon Springs, the table in the South Tampa house I lost, the table in the apartment where I started over, this table where I have fed my children for years. Every table is a different chapter. The food connects them all.
That halloumi dinner reminded me that the best Greek tables are never just one dish — they are a gathering of flavors that hold each other up. So when I wanted something to sit alongside the cheese, something that could carry the brightness of citrus and the saltiness of the Mediterranean in one bowl, this orzo salad was exactly right. Feta, olives, the sweetness of orange — it is the kind of dish my mother would have recognized without needing a recipe card, the kind that travels from table to table and still feels like home.
Orange Orzo Salad with Almonds, Feta and Olives
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 cups uncooked orzo pasta
- 1 cup fresh orange segments (about 2 navel oranges), cut into bite-sized pieces
- 1/2 cup pitted kalamata olives, halved
- 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
- 1/3 cup sliced almonds, toasted
- 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
- 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
- 3 tablespoons fresh orange juice
- 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
- 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 1 teaspoon honey
- 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Cook the orzo. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook orzo according to package directions until al dente, about 8–9 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold water to stop cooking. Transfer to a large bowl.
- Toast the almonds. In a small dry skillet over medium heat, toast the sliced almonds for 2–3 minutes, stirring frequently, until golden and fragrant. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the orange juice, red wine vinegar, olive oil, honey, oregano, salt, and pepper until well combined.
- Combine the salad. Add the orange segments, olives, red onion, and parsley to the orzo. Pour the dressing over and toss gently to coat everything evenly.
- Chill and finish. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to allow the flavors to meld. Just before serving, fold in the crumbled feta and toasted almonds so they hold their texture.
- Taste and adjust. Season with additional salt, pepper, or a small squeeze of orange juice as needed before bringing to the table.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 390mg