By Liam found his hands this week. This is a developmental milestone that sounds unremarkable until you watch it happen: a small person noticing, for the first time, that these two things at the ends of their arms belong to them and can be moved deliberately. He held them up in front of his face on Tuesday morning with the expression of a scientist who has stumbled onto something very interesting and stared at them for a solid three minutes. Sean watched from the doorway of the nursery without saying anything. I watched from the chair. We let him have the discovery.
Sunday cooking has become the thing that structures the week. I cook on Sundays the way my mother cooked on Sundays, enough to carry through four or five days, and then I improvise from there. This week: a big pan of chicken thighs roasted with olives and capers and tomatoes, a pot of farro, a sheet pan of roasted vegetables. The kitchen is the part of the maternity leave that I'll carry forward—the time I had to cook like cooking mattered, not just fuel production. I want to keep that intention.
I ran into Frank's wife at the grocery store. Frank is the patient—the one with the pancreatic cancer, the sense of humor. She recognized me from the floor. He's been home since February, she said. She didn't say how he was doing and I didn't ask because I know what "home since February" means in that context. She looked tired and gracious simultaneously, which is the look of someone managing something large with whatever they have. I told her to give him my best. She said he talks about the nurses. She said it like a gift, and I took it like one.
The farro was already on the stove when I started thinking about how to document the week—and this salad is the kind of thing that lives alongside it in my Sunday rotation, the grain bowl that holds its own for days and somehow gets better as the week goes on. There’s something about cooking food that will last, food that you made with care on a quiet Sunday while your baby discovered his hands and the world felt enormous and tender and finite all at once, that feels like the right response to all of it. This one is for those weeks when you need the kitchen to do a little of the carrying.
Wheat Berry Salad with Dried Figs
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 cups wheat berries, rinsed
- 4 cups water or low-sodium vegetable broth
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 3/4 cup dried figs, stems removed and quartered
- 1/2 cup toasted walnuts, roughly chopped
- 1/3 cup crumbled goat cheese or feta
- 3 scallions, thinly sliced
- 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
- 1 tablespoon honey
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Instructions
- Cook the wheat berries. Combine wheat berries, water or broth, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Cook uncovered for 45–55 minutes, until tender but still pleasantly chewy. Drain any excess liquid and spread on a sheet pan to cool for 10 minutes.
- Make the vinaigrette. Whisk together olive oil, apple cider vinegar, honey, and Dijon mustard in a small bowl until emulsified. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
- Combine the salad. Transfer cooled wheat berries to a large bowl. Add dried figs, toasted walnuts, scallions, and parsley. Pour the vinaigrette over and toss well to coat.
- Finish and serve. Scatter crumbled goat cheese or feta over the top. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve at room temperature or refrigerate and serve cold. This salad holds well for up to 4 days in the refrigerator.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 320 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 210mg