White Balsamic Vinaigrette

Second week of April and the azaleas on my route are in full riot — Mr. Harding's bushes on Barksdale have exploded into pink and white and crimson, and the whole street looks like it's been decorated for a party that nobody told the rest of Memphis about. Mr. Harding, ninety-two now and still collecting his own mail, was standing in his yard Wednesday when I came by, and he said, "Earl, another year." I said, "Another year, Mr. Harding." He said, "The secret is still bone meal and stubbornness." I said, "For the azaleas or for us?" He said, "Yes." I like that man. I hope to be that man, standing in my own yard at ninety-two, dispensing wisdom to the mailman.

Rosetta ran the Memphis half-marathon on Saturday — 13.1 miles through downtown and Midtown, a distance that I find impressive and slightly insane, because I walk six miles a day for work and consider that sufficient exercise, and Rosetta runs thirteen for fun, and our definitions of "fun" have never aligned and probably never will. She finished in two hours and eighteen minutes, which is not a record but is extraordinary for a fifty-six-year-old nurse who trained by running at 5 AM before hospital shifts, and I stood at the finish line with a poster that said "GO ROSETTA" in letters big enough for a woman without her reading glasses to see, and when she crossed, sweating and glowing and fierce, I said, "You're amazing." She said, "I know. Where's the water?"

I made her a recovery meal that evening: grilled salmon with lemon and dill, roasted sweet potatoes, and a big green salad. Not a BBQ meal — a Rosetta meal, the kind of food she prefers, light and clean and full of the nutrients a body needs after running thirteen miles. I am not a health food cook by nature, but I am a husband by choice, and sometimes love means setting aside the smoker and picking up the grill pan and making something that serves the person instead of the pitmaster.

The salmon I cooked simply: skin-on fillet, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil, laid skin-side down on a hot grill pan for four minutes, flipped for two, then finished with a squeeze of lemon and fresh dill. The skin was crispy, the flesh was pink and flaky, and the whole thing took less than ten minutes, which is the speed of a woman who just ran a marathon and doesn't want to wait for a sixteen-hour shoulder.

Rosetta ate every bite and said, "Earl Johnson, you can cook healthy food when you want to." I said, "I can also fly when I want to. I just don't want to." She said, "You're going to eat more salmon." I said, "I'm going to eat more salmon." And I will. Not because salmon is better than pork shoulder — it is not, and I will argue this point before God — but because Rosetta ran thirteen miles and asked me for salmon, and when the woman you love asks for something you can give, you give it. That's the recipe. That's always been the recipe.

Sunday I visited Mama. She was having a foggy day — thought I was Raymond, asked about Ruth (Raymond's wife), talked about a church picnic from 1979. I didn't correct her. I sat and held her hand and let her be wherever she was, because forcing her back to the present is cruel, and the past she's visiting isn't empty — it's full of people she loved and days she lived and the woman she was before time started taking pieces of her away. Her hand was small in mine. Five-one, a hundred and twenty pounds, the woman who produced a nine-pound-four-ounce baby and never let him forget it. I held her hand and I was that baby, and she was that mother, and time had changed everything and nothing.

I’ve given you the salmon and the sweet potatoes, but the big green salad was the quiet hero of that plate — the thing that made the whole meal feel like it belonged together. A good salad needs a good dressing, and not a heavy one, not on a night when the woman at the table just ran 13.1 miles. This white balsamic vinaigrette is what I reached for: bright, a little sweet, light enough to let the greens breathe. It takes five minutes to shake together, it won’t compete with anything else on the plate, and Rosetta, who has opinions about dressing, went back for more salad. That’s the whole endorsement right there.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 8 (about 2 tablespoons each)

Ingredients

1/4 cup white balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon honey
1 small clove garlic, minced or pressed
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (optional)

Instructions

Combine the base. In a small bowl or a jar with a tight-fitting lid, add the white balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, honey, minced garlic, salt, and pepper. Whisk or shake until well combined.
Emulsify the dressing. While whisking constantly (or with the lid on the jar), slowly drizzle in the olive oil in a thin, steady stream until the dressing is fully emulsified and slightly thickened. If using a jar, add the oil all at once and shake vigorously for 30 seconds.
Taste and adjust. Taste the vinaigrette and adjust seasoning as needed — a touch more honey if you prefer it sweeter, a splash more vinegar if you want more brightness, extra salt and pepper to finish.
Add herbs and serve. Stir in fresh thyme leaves if using. Drizzle over your salad immediately, or store in a sealed jar in the refrigerator for up to one week. Shake well before each use, as the dressing will separate as it sits.

Nutrition (per serving)

White Balsamic Vinaigrette — The Dressing on the Salad That Said “I Love You”