Pear Salad with Walnuts — A Quiet Lunch on the Porch, After the Phone Calls

Mamma called Tuesday morning at 10 AM, as she always does, as she has done since she had a phone of her own in 1953. She wanted to know what I was making for dinner. The question matters to her in a way that I now understand at sixty-eight in a way I did not understand at thirty. The asking is the love. The answering is the love. The conversation is the bridge across the days. We talked for nineteen minutes. Mamma is ninety. The phone calls are precious and finite. I do not waste them. Anna sent photos from Minneapolis — the kids in their school uniforms, David's new bookshelf, the dog (their dog, not mine; their dog is named Cooper, and Cooper is a Bernese mountain dog who weighs more than Anna and who is, by all accounts, the most relaxed dog in the upper Midwest). I printed three of the photos and put them on the fridge. The fridge holds the family that is not currently in the kitchen. Elsa called from Voyageurs. She had a sighting of a wolf — a single gray adult crossing a frozen bay at dawn, fifty yards from her cabin. She had a sighting of a moose two days later. She is happy in the woods. I am glad someone in this family is happy in the woods. I have always loved Lake Superior, but the deeper woods are not for me. Elsa is for the deeper woods. The match is right. I cooked Chicken caesar salad this week. Romaine, parmesan, croutons from yesterday's bread, grilled chicken, anchovy-garlic-lemon dressing made in the mortar. Lunch on the porch. The Damiano Center on Thursday. I have served soup at this center for twenty-some years. I know the regulars by name. I know the seasons of the crowd. I know that the first cold snap brings new faces. I know that the days after holidays bring the lonely ones. I know that the worst weeks of the year are not the ones that feel the worst — they are the ones in February when the cold has worn everyone down and the city has run out of tenderness. Paul would have liked this dinner. Paul would have liked this week. Paul would have liked this life. I tell him about it anyway. The telling is the keeping. I have been told, by a grief counselor, by friends, by my own children at certain anxious moments, that perhaps the constant tell-Paul thing is not healthy. I do not agree. I think it is exactly healthy. I think it is, in fact, the structural beam of my emotional architecture. The beam is solid. The house stands. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. The lake from the kitchen window has been doing what the lake does for as long as there has been a lake. The lake has carried fish and ships and the bodies of drowned sailors and the names of Ojibwe villages and the granite-cold of melted glaciers. The lake does not notice the lives along its shore. The lives notice the lake. That is the deal. That has always been the deal. It is enough.

The caesar was Monday’s lunch, and it was right for Monday. But by midweek, after Mamma’s call and Elsa’s wolf and the photos on the fridge and the soup line at the Damiano Center, I wanted something lighter—something with crunch and sweetness and no fuss at all. This pear salad is that kind of meal. Ripe pears, toasted walnuts, a handful of greens, a quick vinaigrette. It is the lunch you make when the kitchen is warm and the morning has already given you enough to carry.

Pear Salad with Walnuts

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 6 cups mixed salad greens
• 2 ripe pears, cored and thinly sliced
• 1/2 cup walnut halves, toasted
• 1/3 cup crumbled blue cheese or goat cheese
• 1/4 cup dried cranberries
• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 1/2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1 teaspoon honey
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Instructions

1. Toast the walnuts. Place walnut halves in a dry skillet over medium heat. Stir occasionally until fragrant and lightly golden, about 4–5 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.
2. Make the vinaigrette. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, white wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, honey, and a pinch of salt and pepper until emulsified.
3. Prepare the pears. Core the pears and slice them thinly. If preparing ahead, toss slices with a squeeze of lemon juice to prevent browning.
4. Assemble the salad. Arrange the mixed greens on a serving platter or divide among four plates. Fan the pear slices over the greens. Scatter the toasted walnuts, crumbled cheese, and dried cranberries on top.
5. Dress and serve. Drizzle the vinaigrette evenly over the salad. Season with additional salt and pepper if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 260 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 135mg