Turkey and Apple Arugula Salad

April middle. The trees turned green this week, almost overnight. Hartford does this in April — three weeks of bare branches, one weekend of green. The dogwood next to the driveway bloomed Saturday. I sat on the porch Sunday morning and watched it. Eduardo came out with coffee and said, "Carmen, the dogwood." I said, "Eduardo, I see it." He sat next to me. We did not say much.

Tuesday food bank: pollo asado with rice. Mr. Patterson came in his TA capacity even though there was no class — he had decided to start showing up at food bank to be useful, which Brian liked, which the regulars liked because Mr. Patterson was a fixture they now wanted to talk to, which I liked because Mr. Patterson chopped onions faster than anyone I had ever worked with including the prep cooks at Hartford Hospital.

Wednesday I did not have La Cocina (the spring cohort done, fall not yet planned), so I had a free night. Eduardo and I went to the movies. We saw a foreign film — Chilean — that was sad and beautiful. Eduardo cried at the end. He never cries at movies. I asked him in the car why. He said, "Carmen, it reminded me of my own mother." His mother, Olga, died in 1995. He never talks about her. I said, "Eduardo, what about her?" He said, "The way she made me sit at the table when I did not want to sit. She always knew what I needed." I said, "Eduardo, that is — that is what mothers do." He said, "Carmen, when Mami goes I will lose my mother again. Not just yours. Mine too. Because she has been the mother in my life for thirty-eight years." I had not understood this before. Mami has been Eduardo's mother as much as mine. I cried for him. He held my hand.

Thursday Mami was lucid for an hour. I told her what Eduardo had said. She closed her eyes. She said, "Carmen, tell Eduardo I have been honored to be his mother." I said, "Mami." She said, "Tell him. Tell him today." I drove home. I told Eduardo. He sat at the kitchen table and put his face in his hands and cried for ten minutes. I did not say anything. I poured him café. He drank it slowly. He said, "Carmen, I will go see her tomorrow." He went Friday. He sat with her for two hours. She knew him. She held his hand. He came home with tears on his face that he did not bother to wipe.

Sunday dinner: small. Just us, Sofía, Eduardo, me. I made spaghetti with sausage — Eduardo's favorite from before he met me, his mother's recipe — because I wanted to feed him his mother. He ate two plates. He did not say anything. He kissed me on the forehead before bed. Wepa.

The spaghetti on Sunday was Eduardo’s — Olga’s, really — and it was not mine to share here. But earlier that week, in the middle of all of it, I made this salad for lunch two days in a row because I needed something that felt like April: clean, bright, the kind of thing that reminds you the world is still moving even when you are sitting very still. The apple is what does it. Sweet against the peppery arugula, the turkey keeping it grounded enough to be a meal. I brought the leftovers to Mami on Thursday. She ate three bites and said it was good. Three bites is a lot, these days.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

5 oz baby arugula
2 cups cooked turkey breast, thinly sliced or shredded
1 large apple (Honeycrisp or Fuji), cored and thinly sliced
1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
1/3 cup candied or toasted walnuts
1/4 cup shaved Parmesan
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, apple cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, and honey until emulsified. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside.
Slice the apple. Core and slice the apple thinly — no need to peel it. If you’re not assembling immediately, toss the slices in a little lemon juice to keep them from browning.
Build the salad. Spread the arugula across a large serving platter or bowl. Layer the turkey slices over the greens, then arrange the apple slices and red onion on top.
Add the toppings. Scatter the walnuts and shaved Parmesan evenly across the salad.
Dress and serve. Drizzle the dressing over the salad just before serving. Toss lightly or serve undressed at the table and let everyone dress their own plate. Eat right away — arugula wilts fast once dressed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Turkey and Apple Arugula Salad — Something Light for a Heavy Week