No, I didn’t grow the basil for this pesto. In Seattle?! At this rate, my basil won’t be up until Halloween. I cannot believe the absolute lack of sunlight we’ve been experiencing. But Trader Joe’s basil will do nicely. (If you’re soaking up the sun in some other clime, I sort of don’t want to hear about it).

The greens, however, did come from my garden. A huge pile of tender arugula, spinach, and baby kale, chopped up and thrown into the hot pasta till it’s just wilted. It might have been a more accurate description to say “Greens with noodles.” I’ve wondered about iron deficiency lately because of all the fatigue I’ve been experiencing. My Mom said, “There’s no way you could be anemic. You eat too many greens.” Case in point.

This has nothing to do with green noodles, but I can’t write tonight without saying what a fabulous birthday celebration Bethany and I had yesterday. We (belatedly) celebrated our June birthdays with a ritual day at Olympus Spa (aka”Korean Spa”). Usually, we’re extremely lucky to get 10 minutes on the phone before one of us has to break up a fight or ration snacks. Oh, the conversations that can happen in eight whole hours! And the bi bim bap and pajeon to be had at Lynnwood Korean restaurants! In all the moments of uncertainty or frustration that are certain to come down the pike between now and my next birthday, I’ll pull these hours out. I’ll draw strength from them and remember that, in the end, loving and being loved is all there is. (Okay–eating’s somewhere in there, too). xoxo, Bethany.

Green Spaghetti with Greens

Serves four. Making your own pesto couldn’t be easier if you have a food processor. But you could certainly used purchased pesto here. If you do, add a clove of minced garlic and a little extra salt, as I find it to be lacking the punch that homemade pesto has.

1 lb. spaghetti (reserve 1/2 c. of the cooking water)
1/2 c. homemade pesto or purchased pesto (and maybe  more to taste)
1/2 c. heavy cream
salt
pepper
1 c. halved cherry or grape tomatoes
Big bowlful of coarsely chopped washed and dried greens–at least 6 cups. I used arugula, spinach, and baby kale.
1/2 c. crumbled feta or shaved pecorino or parmesan for garnish

Boil spaghetti in lots of salted water. Reserve a little cooking water before draining it.

Dump drained pasta back into the pot, then add pesto and cream over low heat. Use a wooden spoon and tongs to gently incorporate all the cream and pesto into the pasta. You want every noodle covered. Add salt and pepper, and taste to see if you want to add a little more pesto. Add a little of the cooking water to loosen a bit if needed.

Gently fold in greens and tomatoes, stirring until the greens are wilted. Turn off heat.

Mound into pasta bowls, and top with crumbled feta and maybe a drizzle of olive oil.

Clearly, I’m trying to extend our vacation. Pimm’s Cup on a weeknight. More than one glass of it, too.

Yancey and I had a Pimm’s Cup last week at the White Horse Trading Company in Post Alley. It’s the sweetest, coziest, little pub, only open at night, and we’ve peered in there a million times, always meaning to go. We had been out for a delicious dinner, walking all night, and were back at the anniversary hotel room, eyes half-closed, when Yancey said, “We have to go to White Horse. Let’s rally.” It’s incredibly hard to leave a Pokemon-free, clean room with the potential of room service. And The Food Network. But I rallied, and that turned out to be a wise choice. We cozied up to the bar, and I got their delicious version of this vintage drink, made with five kinds of wine, brown sugar, and fresh lemon juice. When the bartender learned it was our anniversary, he set a chocolate truffle in front of me and poured he and Yancey shots of sake. Yancey and I watched the probable first dates around us, wished them well, and were glad not to be enduring all the requisite angst. Give me soggy Pokemon cards and fights about laundry piles anyday.

This version is made with Pimm’s Cup (available at your local liquor store), simple syrup, lemon juice, and lots of other aromatics. It is a Superstar Summer Refresher. One of the best I’ve ever had. Kind of a musky, more intriguing sangria, a drink that will make you feel like wearing your most floppy straw hat and learning to play bridge. Or maybe it will be just enough to get you off the couch, turning off Food Network, and having a little celebration of your own.

Pimm’s Cup

Makes 4-6 drinks. The essentials here are the liquor, lemon juice, and simple syrup. Everything else is optional, though it looks so gloriously over-the-top all soaking together in the pitcher. I let it sit for less than an hour because I was impatient, but the original recipe on Epicurious says to let it sit for 1-3 hours. I imagine the all the floaty things would be more important in that case. I found this amount of sugar to be just right, but you can certainly decrease it to your taste.

1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. water
2 c. Pimm’s No. 1 (a blend of gin, liqueurs, and fruit extracts)
1 c. fresh lemon juice
1 thinly sliced lemon
1 orange, halved, and thinly sliced
1 6″ long piece cucumber, thinly sliced into rounds
1 3″ long piece fresh ginger, thinly sliced into coins
1/4 c. fresh mint leaves
club soda
ice cubes

Stir sugar and 1/2 c. water in saucepan over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Combine Pimm’s and next six ingredients in a large pitcher. Mix in sugar syrup, mashing slightly to release flavors. Cover; chill at least 1 hour and up to 3 hours.

Fill glass with ice, then cocktail, leaving an inch at the top for club soda. Top with a splash (I don’t like too much–just enough to make it fizzy).

I’ve just been to another planet. One without Facebook, blogging, or email. One where uni-tasking (instead of multitasking) reigns supreme. I have mixed feelings about opening up the laptop again this  morning, but I miss you. And vacations wouldn’t be vacations if they didn’t come to an end, right?

Were I to list all the internal and external events that have filled me up these last 10 days, I’d lose you. But here are a few highlights:

1. Uni-tasking with Loretta at the laundromat on account of our broken dryer–reading stories, watching the bright clothes whirl, and doing nothing except being there.
2. Sitting in a big circle with 25 amazing women at The Gathering, passing the tissue as we talked about all the love and loss and in our lives.
3. Celebrating 15 years of marriage to Yancey with 2 nights and 3 days away. Every moment together was a perfect little gem. I’m not being hyperbolic here. It was a celebration in every way imaginable (including some mountaintop restaurant experiences).
4. Exploring the tidepools at Seahurst Park, hearing Wyatt’s exclamations echo down the whole beach.
5. Going to yoga four times.

And, for Father’s Day breakfast, I made Kristina Kringle. You long-timers will remember this was my second blog entry entry ever–without a photo, no less! Here’s a better-late-than-never photo, and another plug for this ambrosial, easy pastry that will catapult you to Brunch Fame should you make it.

Thank you Emily, Naomi, Mary, Mama, and Papa for making uni-tasking possible the last 10 days. We are so blessed by your generosity.

Six or eight weeks ago, I told you about my new thing for muesli. We are still in the honeymoon stage. I found a great glass jar at a garage sale, and I’ve freshly filled it every week. For some reason, Yancey and I both consume it much faster than we ever did granola. He takes it to work, and I eat it every morning while the kids wolf Panda Puffs. (Organic sugar cereal, which is ridiculous.) In the original recipe I gave, I instructed you to pulse the oats in the food processor or use quick oats. I just use whole ones now. The mix pictured is oats, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, pistachios, dried blueberries and cherries, toasted almonds, raisins, sesame seeds, pinch of  brown sugar, pinch of salt, and dash of cinnamon.

I’m leaving town for a few days to go on my annual women’s retreat. Yancey keeps a tally of all my retreats. He thinks it’s hilarious. I try explaining that they are my job, but he teases me anyway. Thankfully, this one has nothing to do with work and everything to do with rejuvenation. I room with my dear friend Nalani every year, and a dose of her is exactly what I need right now. And four days of showing up to food that’s already been prepared?! Heaven, actually. It forces a healthy break from my compulsive planning, shopping and chopping.

We open our retreat every year in a big circle, sharing what’s been most important to us in the time we’ve been apart. You, favorite readers, will surely figure largely in my litany of gratitudes. Thank you.

Every ounce of creative energy I have these days is going into salads. I’m amassing quite a gallery of photos, but decided to spare you the parade and give you one shining example.

Many solo nights the last couple weeks have looked thus:

• Fix the kids something that will keep them happy–”plain nachos” (read: no veggies), grilled cheese, or quesadillas.
• Go out to my little garden and pick radishes, baby greens, and a few herbs.
• Wash and spin dry these precious little gems, then start looking for what I might toss them with.
• Get an amazing amount of mileage from a chorizo link I bought at DeLaurenti last weekend.
• However out-of-sorts I’ve been lately, feel exceedingly thankful for the riotous, green bowl in front of me that manages to taste so ethereally good.

The magic in this salad comes from crisping up chorizo bits in a cast iron pan with a splash of your best olive oil, then throwing in thin asparagus, cut into 1″ lengths, and letting it cook for less than a minute, till it’s getting an orange-ish hue from the chorizo oil. Then pour the entire hot, oily melange over your greens, toss with a squeeze of lime and olive oil, and eat right away, while the hot and cold components are still distinct. Can I get an “Amen!” out there? It’s Sunday, after all.

I’ve been making amazing salads (no humility here) for years, but the wonder of it now is that I have witnesses! I’ve been thinking lately about what a fundamental human need that is–to be seen. Emily was writing recently about how Namaste, the traditional salutation at the close of a yoga class, means “I see you.” So beautiful. It’s true–sometimes we don’t want to be seen. An old friend stopped by today while I was cleaning the house, and I was actually embarrassed. I was a mess, the house was a DISASTER. I know it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. So maybe we don’t want our messy houses, mistakes, or snarky moments to be seen, but all of us need witnesses–people who see us for who we are and love us, people who see our successes and celebrate them. So I’m one lucky girl, don’t you think? Even though it’s virtual, you all bear witness, in constantly amazing ways, to this little life of mine. Wherever you are, I hope you’ve got people doing that for you. Like I’ve said many times, every life is astounding. I just happen to be writing about mine.

Asparagus and Herb Salad with Crispy Chorizo

Serves one salad-loving mother. Gather a handful of greens and herbs from your fridge or garden. In this salad, I used baby spinach, arugula, some radish tops (really spiky ones aside), and fresh mint. Wash and dry them. Thinly slice 6 radishes and halve a handful of cherry tomatoes. Cube 1/2 an avocado and shave or grate a bit of aged parmesan. Add all that to your greens, but you don’t need to toss it yet. Dice or cut into little strips a 1″chunk of Spanish chorizo, and fry it in a bit of olive oil until chorizo starts to crisp up. Throw in 5 or 6 thin asparagus spears that have been cut into 1″ lengths and cook for under a minute on medium-high heat, until asparagus is hot through but still firm. Pour everything in the skillet over your greens, squeeze half a lime over, drizzle some of your best olive oil, sprinkle with coarse salt, then gently toss with your hands. Find someone to exclaim over your creation.