Megan's school year is ending. The kids are squirrely — they can smell summer through the windows and no amount of standardized testing can contain their energy. Megan comes home exhausted and wired. She grades papers at the kitchen table while I cook and she talks about her students between comments in red ink. Diego brought her his sixty-third rock this year. Ayla wrote a poem about spring that made Megan cry in the supply closet. Sofia drew another cat. The fridge art gallery expands.
Eight weeks to the wedding. The final fittings are done — Megan's dress is ready (I still haven't seen it; I still don't know what it looks like; the suspense is either wonderful or cruel, depending on the hour). My suit is ready (navy, single-breasted, the tailor said I look like my father, which I've decided is the highest compliment a tailor can give). The rings are ready — gold bands, simple, Megan's with a small diamond to match the engagement ring, mine with a D and an 8 engraved inside. Danny and his number. Carried to the altar. Carried everywhere.
At the brewery, the head brewer asked about my timeline for the wedding days off. Two weeks — one for the wedding and one for the honeymoon in Door County. He said, "The sours need checking while you're gone." I said, "I'll train Steve." He said, "Steve doesn't have your instincts." This is the first time in eight years the head brewer has acknowledged that I have something he values enough to worry about losing. I floated through the rest of the day.
Made a simple stir-fry for dinner — the same one Megan and I made together early in our relationship, when she chopped onions and cried and I fell in love. Chicken, peppers, soy sauce, rice. The meal we've made a hundred times. The meal that means "Tuesday." The meal that means "us."
That stir-fry we made — the one with the chicken and peppers and soy sauce that we’ve made a hundred times since those early nights when Megan chopped onions and cried — it lives and dies by the sauce. What makes it ours isn’t the recipe so much as the ratio we’ve dialed in over years of Tuesday dinners, and the backbone of it has always been a good sesame dressing: nutty, salty, a little sweet, the kind of thing that smells like home the second it hits the pan. If you want to make this meal your own standing Tuesday, start here.
Sesame Dressing
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
- 3 tablespoons soy sauce (or tamari for gluten-free)
- 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
- 1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup
- 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, finely grated
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon sriracha or chili garlic sauce (optional, to taste)
- 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
Instructions
- Combine. Add the sesame oil, soy sauce, rice vinegar, honey, ginger, and garlic to a small bowl or jar.
- Whisk. Whisk together until the honey is fully incorporated and the dressing is smooth and uniform.
- Adjust heat. Stir in sriracha if using, starting with 1/2 teaspoon and adding more to your preferred spice level.
- Finish. Stir in sesame seeds. Taste and adjust — a touch more soy for salt, a touch more honey for sweetness.
- Use or store. Use immediately over stir-fry, noodles, or grain bowls, or transfer to a sealed jar and refrigerate for up to one week. Shake well before each use.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 80 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 4g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 480mg