Mid-May. Mother's Day. I made chirashizushi for me and Miya — the celebration rice, the pretty food, the annual tradition that began with Fumiko and continues with me and will continue with Miya and will continue beyond Miya, into generations I will not meet, the way Fumiko did not meet Miya but is present in every bite of the rice Miya eats, the chain extending forward and backward through time, held together by vinegar and fish and the precise arrangement of toppings on a plate.
Miya gave me a card. This year's card: a drawing of two women in a kitchen. One is tall (me). One is short (Miya). Between them is a counter with a bowl. The bowl is brown. The soup is brown. Above the tall woman, in wobbling letters: "WRITER." Above the short woman, in wobbling letters: "HELPER." The designation made me cry. Writer and Helper. That is us. That is the kitchen. That is the partnership that has emerged from the divorce: not mother and daughter as incomplete unit, but writer and helper as complete team. The team is sufficient. The team is everything.
Barbara called — twenty-five minutes about the Ashland garden, Gerald's birdwatching obsession (now including a field guide and binoculars that cost more than Barbara's car payment), and the community theater production of Mamma Mia she is directing. "ABBA is harder than Shakespeare," she declared. I believe her. Barbara's authority on all matters theatrical is absolute and earned.
I wrote a blog post about Mother's Day — about being a mother without a grandmother, about the absence of Fumiko at the table, about the way grief and gratitude share a plate on days like this, the way chirashizushi holds salmon and avocado side by side: different flavors, different textures, the same bowl. The post was shared four hundred times. The readers who have lost their grandmothers wrote to me. The readers who are grandmothers wrote to me. Everyone wrote to me. The bowl is large enough. The bowl holds everyone.
The chirashizushi I made for Miya and me already said everything I needed to say about that day — the avocado and salmon resting side by side, different in every way, sharing the same bowl without apology. But on the days that follow a Mother’s Day like that one, I want the spirit of the bowl without the ceremony, something I can pull together quickly and still feel the same generosity in every bite. This tahini ranch avocado chicken salad is exactly that: creamy and composed, ingredients that shouldn’t necessarily work together finding their rhythm anyway, the way Writer and Helper found theirs.
Tahini Ranch Avocado Chicken Salad
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cups cooked chicken breast, shredded or chopped
- 2 ripe avocados, diced
- 1/2 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1/3 cup cucumber, diced
- 1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
- 1/4 cup fresh parsley or cilantro, roughly chopped
- 3 tablespoons tahini
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
- 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
- 1 small garlic clove, minced
- 1 teaspoon dried dill
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 2–3 tablespoons water, to thin dressing
- Mixed greens or romaine, for serving
Instructions
- Make the tahini ranch dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the tahini, olive oil, lemon juice, apple cider vinegar, minced garlic, dried dill, onion powder, and garlic powder. Add water one tablespoon at a time until the dressing reaches a pourable but creamy consistency. Season with salt and black pepper.
- Prep the salad ingredients. Dice the avocado, halve the cherry tomatoes, dice the cucumber, and finely chop the red onion. Place all vegetables in a large mixing bowl along with the shredded chicken and fresh herbs.
- Dress the salad. Pour roughly two-thirds of the tahini ranch dressing over the chicken and vegetable mixture. Toss gently to coat, being careful not to mash the avocado. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, or lemon juice as needed.
- Assemble and serve. Arrange mixed greens or romaine on plates or in bowls. Spoon the avocado chicken salad over the greens and drizzle with remaining dressing. Serve immediately, or refrigerate the undressed salad components (keeping avocado and dressing separate) for up to one day.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 390 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 310mg