People who stand on the left side of escalators.
Slow internet.
No internet.
Not having to pee the entire time you’re walking home and then suddenly desperately having to pee and not being able to find your keys.
People who walk too slowly and don’t pick a side of the sidewalk.
Boogie boarders stealing waves.
Improper use of homonyms, semicolons, commas, colons and em dashes by native English speakers.
Children screaming.
Children screaming early in the morning.
Children screaming early in the morning on the weekends when you do not feel you have the authority to tell the aforementioned children to put a sock in it.
Poor quality pots that get scalded on the bottom from being cooked at a medium temperature.
My last pen running out of ink just as I remember what I wanted to say.
People who put the empty milk continer back in the refrigerator.
People whose relaxed mouth position is opened.
My hands getting stuck in the sleeves of a long-sleeved wetsuit.
Running out of salt and not noticing until it’s too late.
Food pictures that do not reflect the deliciousnss of the food.
I am not a photographer. I never was a photographer. I’m a writer: always have been, always will be. However, I know all too well the importance of pictures to their accompanying food articles–heck, I just admitted that I’m a writer and know nothing about photography, and yet I find myself clicking past certain posts just because they don’t have pictures to go wth them. I usually can talk myself into going back and discovering what are sure to be delicious things and witty stories I’ve missed, but there’s just something enticing and wonderfully expectant about starting off a recipe or a story with a great picture.
So I understand if you click past this post: my dinnertime here, like with most Spaniards, is around 9 or 10, and I don’t have much natural light anyway in the ever-rainy Basque region (although the last two days have been bright and sunny and a wonderful 25 degrees–you know that life is good when you spend a Tuesday afternoon in late September lying in the sun with a San Miguel in your hand and the perfect view of surfers in front of you.)
I think what I like most about the weather here is that the inspiration for fall food is hitting me much later than it usually does–don’t get me wrong: I love pumpkin and squash, and there will come a time for all things orange, but last year, I let the pumpkin in a bit too early and ignored the last of the summer produce, and I wouldn’t want to do that again.
This is perfect for after a day at the beach, when you want something light and easy to make but still filling–something that feels like a meal instead of my favorite “big bowl of vegetables.” It’s the kind of salad I remember eating in a restaurant in Rome–the kind of salad I remember my father saying he could eat for every meal of his life.
Funny: I kind of feel the same way.
Salade Composée with Shallot Vinaigrette
1 shallot, minced
1 tsp. good French mustard
2 tbsp. cider vinegar
4 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1/2 tsp. herbes de provence
1/2 tsp. salt
500 g. haricots verts or string beans, sliced into bite sized pieces along the diagonal
8 new potatoes, quartered
3 eggs
3 oz. swiss or emmental cheese, diced
10 cherry tomatoes, halved
Combine the shallot, mustard and vinegar in the bottom of a large bowl with a fork. Stream in the olive oil, whisking all the time, and continue to whisk until emulsified. Add the pepper, salt and herbes de Provence. Set aside.
Meanwhile, put two pots of water on the stovetop to boil. Drop the new potatoes into one while the water is still cold and bring to a boil. Cook about 20 minutes (from the time the potatoes are added to the water) until a fork slides in and out easily. (This may take less time: check after 15.) When the other pot of water comes to a boil, add the green beans and cook until crisp-tender: about 5 minutes.
Rinse the cooked potatoes briefly in cold water (you want them warm but not steaming) and put them into the bowl with the dressing. Toss to coat.
Shock the cooked string beans in cold water so that they retain their color, and add them to the bowl with the potatoes.
Place a new pot with about 3 inches of cold water in the bottom on the stovetop. Add the eggs and bring to a boil, uncovered. When the water boils, remove the pot from the heat and cover for seven to twelve minutes (seven will result in creamy, slightly underdone yolks, twelve in perfectly set ones. I like seven or eight, but it’s a personal preference).
Place the cooked eggs in cold water and rinse until completely cooled. Peel and halve them.
Add the tomatoes and cheese to the bowl and toss all the ingredients together so that the dressing is evenly distributed. Top with the eggs and serve with warm, crusty bread.
