Summer Fruit 'n' Pasta Salad -- The Last Normal Sunday

June. Summer. The grill runs daily. The smoker runs weekends. The kids are here half the time and the apartment is a kitchen and a playground and a home. Aiden plays basketball every day — at the community center, in the parking lot, with a hoop mounted on the back of the building that Mr. Peterson installed with my help last spring. His game is developing into something real: a left-handed jump shot with range, a crossover dribble that shakes defenders, the court vision of a player who sees the game before it happens. Zaria enrolled in a summer cooking class at the community center. A class. For children ages four to eight. Taught by a woman named Mrs. Grant, who runs the after-school program and who has her own food journey. Zaria attended the first session and came home with a recipe for fruit salad that she executed with the precision of a scientist. "You cut the strawberries like this, Dada," she said, demonstrating the technique Mrs. Grant taught her. "And you ALWAYS wash the grapes." She is four. She is already teaching me. Father's Day was quiet and good. The kids made cards. I grilled steaks. We went to Mama's for dinner. Dad was in good spirits — the Tigers had won two in a row (a miracle that Dad celebrated with the restrained joy of a man who has been hurt too many times to trust a winning streak). Mama made smothered chicken. The food was good. The family was together. Marc was there, with a new girl named Keisha (not our Keisha — Marc's Keisha, who lasted approximately four weeks). He ate three plates and talked about the Charger's sound system for twenty minutes. Everything was normal. Everything was the way it always was. The table was full. The food was good. The family was here. I did not know this was one of the last normal Sundays. I did not know that in six weeks, the table would have a chair that would never be filled again. I did not know. Nobody knows. That is the mercy.

Zaria came home from Mrs. Grant’s cooking class that June talking about strawberries—how to cut them, how to wash the grapes, how fruit deserves respect. And on that Father’s Day, with the table full and Marc on his third plate and Dad still riding the Tigers’ winning streak, what we needed wasn’t complicated. We needed something bright and easy and good, the kind of dish that belongs on a crowded Sunday table in summer, the kind Zaria would have wanted to help make. This Summer Fruit ‘n’ Pasta Salad is that dish—colorful, simple, made for the moments you don’t yet know you’ll miss.

Summer Fruit ‘n’ Pasta Salad

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min (plus chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 12 oz rotini or bow-tie pasta
• 1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
• 1 cup green grapes, halved and washed
• 1 cup red grapes, halved and washed
• 1 cup fresh pineapple chunks
• 1 cup mandarin orange segments, drained if canned
• 1/2 cup blueberries
• 1 cup vanilla yogurt
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
• Fresh mint leaves for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Drain, rinse under cold water, and let cool completely.
2. Prepare the fruit. Wash all fruit thoroughly—Zaria would insist on this. Slice strawberries, halve grapes, and cut pineapple into bite-sized chunks. Combine all fruit in a large bowl.
3. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the vanilla yogurt, honey, lemon juice, and lemon zest until smooth.
4. Combine. Add the cooled pasta to the fruit bowl. Pour the dressing over the top and fold gently until everything is evenly coated.
5. Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving to let the flavors come together.
6. Serve. Give the salad a gentle stir before serving. Garnish with fresh mint if desired. Best served the same day.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 45mg