Pistachio Lettuce Salad

Fourth of July. Cookout at the house. Ribs since six AM. Burgers on the kettle. Watermelon on ice. The kids ran through the sprinkler. Standard.

Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.

Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday to remind me, as she does, that my potato salad still needs more mustard — and I love her for it. But the potluck at the neighbors’ Friday had me wanting to bring something I hadn’t brought before, something crisp and bright that could hold its own next to the mac and cheese and still leave the pan empty. This Pistachio Lettuce Salad did exactly that. It’s not heavy, it’s not fussy, and it travels well — which, on a block like ours, is half the requirement.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 large head romaine lettuce, chopped (about 8 cups)
1/2 cup shelled roasted pistachios, roughly chopped
1/3 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup shaved Parmesan
1/4 small red onion, very thinly sliced
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Prep the greens. Wash and thoroughly dry the romaine. Chop into bite-sized pieces and place in a large salad bowl. Add the red onion slices and toss gently to distribute.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, honey, salt, and pepper until fully emulsified. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Build the salad. Scatter the chopped pistachios and dried cranberries over the romaine. Drizzle the dressing evenly over the salad and toss well to coat every leaf.
Finish and serve. Top with shaved Parmesan. Serve immediately for maximum crunch, or refrigerate the undressed salad and toss with dressing just before serving if transporting to a gathering.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pistachio Lettuce Salad — Something New for the Potluck Pan