Raspberry Ribbon Salad -- The Sour That Carries You Through

The first kayakers on the inlet. The first fishermen on the dock. A pediatric burn case Tuesday. I came home and made adobo and did not write a blog post.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous. Angela came over Saturday with the kids. We cooked. We argued about pancit proportions — she uses more soy, I use more calamansi. We are both wrong, according to Lourdes.

I made sinigang Sunday. The sour was the right register for the body this week. The tamarind was sharp.

The blog post on sinigang got picked up by a Filipino-American newsletter. Traffic doubled for two days. The traffic was the surprise.

I went to bed Sunday at nine. I slept for ten hours. The sleeping was the inheritance.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

The sinigang I made Sunday was right because of its sourness—the tamarind was sharp and that sharpness was honest about the week. When I thought about what recipe to leave here, I kept returning to that register: the tart, the bright, the thing that wakes you up gently without demanding anything from you. This raspberry ribbon salad has that same quality. It is cold and it is sweet-sour and it is the kind of thing Lourdes would set on the table without explaining herself, and no one would ask her to.

Raspberry Ribbon Salad

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 10 min (plus chilling) | Total Time: 4 hrs 30 min | Servings: 12

Ingredients

• 2 packages (3 oz each) raspberry gelatin
• 2 cups boiling water, divided
• 1 package (10 oz) frozen raspberries, thawed and undrained
• 1 can (8 oz) crushed pineapple, undrained
• 1 cup cold water
• 1 package (8 oz) cream cheese, softened
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup sour cream
• 1 cup miniature marshmallows
• Fresh raspberries and mint, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Make the raspberry layer. Dissolve one package of raspberry gelatin in 1 cup boiling water. Stir in the thawed raspberries with their juice, the crushed pineapple with its juice, and 1 cup cold water. Pour half of this mixture into a lightly greased 9x13-inch dish. Refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour. Reserve the remaining raspberry mixture at room temperature.
2. Make the cream layer. Dissolve the second package of raspberry gelatin in the remaining 1 cup boiling water. Beat the softened cream cheese with the sugar and vanilla until smooth. Gradually beat in the warm gelatin until fully combined. Fold in the sour cream and marshmallows until evenly incorporated.
3. Layer and chill. Carefully spoon the cream layer over the set raspberry layer in the dish. Spread gently to the edges. Refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour.
4. Add the top layer. Pour the reserved raspberry mixture (rewarmed briefly if it has set) over the firm cream layer. Smooth to an even surface. Refrigerate until fully set, at least 2 hours or overnight.
5. Serve. Cut into squares and serve chilled. Garnish with fresh raspberries and a sprig of mint if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 130mg