Tomato Mozzarella Salad

Forest fires south of town. The smoke giving the sun a red filter. Three twelve-hour shifts this week. The body holding.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one.

I made kinilaw Saturday — the Filipino ceviche. Salmon, vinegar, ginger, chili. The fish was Joseph's.

I drafted a blog post on Tuesday and almost did not publish it. I published it Friday. The publishing was the practice.

The week held. The kitchen held. The chain holds.

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.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

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.

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.

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.

The therapy session this month was about pacing. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The pacing is the love for the future self." I am working on the pacing. The pacing is harder than the loving.

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

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

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.

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

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

Kinilaw is always the recipe I reach for when I need the kitchen to do something clean and honest — fresh fish, acid, ginger, and the trust that simple things work. This week I didn’t have the calamansi and I substituted the lime, which reminded me that substitution is not failure, it’s the working version of perfect. The Tomato Mozzarella Salad became its echo on the nights I came home too tired to do much more than slice and layer — the same logic as kinilaw, just a different language. The acid does its work. The fresh thing holds.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 medium ripe tomatoes, sliced 1/4 inch thick
8 oz fresh mozzarella, sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, whole or torn
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 small clove garlic, minced (optional)

Instructions

Slice and arrange. Alternate tomato and mozzarella slices on a serving plate, overlapping slightly in a single layer.
Add the basil. Tuck fresh basil leaves between and over the tomato and mozzarella slices.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and minced garlic if using.
Dress the salad. Drizzle the dressing evenly over the arranged slices.
Season and serve. Finish with flaky sea salt and black pepper. Serve immediately at room temperature for the best flavor.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tomato Mozzarella Salad — The Simple Thing That Holds