(Tossed) Salad Days

a real Spring Mix this week

Mar 18, 2025

**halfway decent writer whose name escapes me**

“Salad Days” is a phrase that is used to describe the years of youthful confidence (alternatively, one’s heyday). The idiom comes from Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra, where Cleo talks about her former praise for Caesar, “That vow was made in my salad days, when I was green in judgement.” Looking back, I was never big on self-confidence, and my heyday (if I had one) definitely did not occur in my twenties. Therefore, if these be my “salad days,” the lettuce is a little wilted and the tomatoes have gone mushy. But it’s OK! Bring on the dressing anyway (NOT Caesar, however:-)

Here we go with this week’s Spring Mix…

ANOTHER ANNIVERSARY!

We’re married 48 years tomorrow…

Dolly Parton wrote this beautiful song for her husband Carl Dean. As soon as I heard it, I knew it told our story too…Happy Anniversary to Steve, the love of my life.

MUSIC: IF YOU HADN’T BEEN THERE by DOLLY PARTON

SHORT VIDEO: A SINGLE LIFE

This little movie packs a big emotional punch. Our time here is SO fleeting…

PODCAST: SOUL BOOM WITH RAINN WILSON (HERE INTERVIEWING BRIAN MCLAREN)

If you only know Rainn from his role as Dwight Schrute in The Office, you might be surprised to know he’s actually a sweet guy—and very interested in exploring deep subjects. Check out this episode of his “Soul Boom” podcast, with guest Brian McLaren. I heard McLaren speak at an Emergent Conference in Nashville, TN back in 2004, and he was wonderful. I recommend his books too…in his convo with Rainn, McLaren talks about his Four Stages of the Spiritual Life: Simplicity, Complexity, Perplexity and Harmony.

RECIPE (AND STORY): I STOLE THIS SPINACH SALAD

I wrote the following story for a website called Fifth Season Fresh (now sadly defunct)…

He was an unlikely spy, to put it mildly. But, way back in the day, my brand new husband Steve did some serious sleuthing for me, all in the name of love, and food. Isn’t it “for better or worse, in bechamel and in Hollandaise”? If not, it should be!

The scene was The Public House on Roswell Square, a popular restaurant in suburban Atlanta, Georgia back in the late 1970s. Steve had been hired as a waiter. Mind you, Steve had absolutely no restaurant background whatsoever. But Steve was an actor, and it was, and still is, an unwritten law that every aspiring actor must work in a restaurant. When a diner would ask about the specials, there was always the danger that the waitperson would break into an energetic tap dance and a rousing chorus from Pippin. “Not that kind of special,” the patron would mutter, although if the performance warranted, the tip could be substantial.

At any rate, during his training, Steve learned the menu, which was really no more difficult than the script for The Odd Couple, he reported to me. Steve was informed by the manager that the formulas for the specialties of the house, including the intriguingly named Oyster Filet (not the filet of an oyster, which would have been a very, very tiny dish, but rather filet mignon stuffed with oysters), were closely guarded secrets. Loose lips, his boss warned, sink culinary ships!! The wait crew was sworn to silence.

Naturally, I was determined to obtain these recipes no matter the risk, and so began Steve’s perilous forays into the restaurant kitchen. At odd hours, my husband would sneak into the Public House pantry, open a drawer, get a quick look at the recipe box, then call me with the memorized scoop (he couldn’t chance taking the time to write things down). He proved to be pretty good at recalling cups and quarts.

Problem was, the quantities of ingredients for each dish were enormous, as one might expect at a large eatery. So, at quiet moments during his shift, I’d hear from my spy. I’d pick up the phone, and I’d hear a whispered “Quick! 20 pounds of cream cheese. 12 cups of sugar. 3 cups of Kahlua” (ah! The key to their famous cheesecake!) He’d abruptly hang up, and I’d scribble down the ingredients and amounts. Then I’d use my really mediocre math skills to try and cut the proportions of everything down to size. Some attempts were tragedies--several Kahlua cheesecakes went straight into the trash--but a few were triumphs. I still make their delicious house spinach and bean sprout salad, dressed with peanut oil and soy sauce.

Steve left the restaurant biz after a couple of years (my source had dried up!), and has never returned to his life of crime. But years later, as luck would have it, our son Patrick grew up to be an executive chef in a Philadelphia area restaurant. Nowadays, I get my “secret” recipes straight from their creator, and while I miss the cloak-and-dagger of the Atlanta days, I must say I’m feeling a whole lot less guilty.

Here’s the famous salad. The restaurant closed long ago, and the statute of limitations has probably run out. But if I were you, I’d still prep this beauty by flashlight, and swear your dinner guests to secrecy. Just to be on the safe side.

PUBLIC HOUSE SPINACH SALAD (Serves 4-6)

In salad bowl, combine:

1 lb baby spinach

I can water chestnuts, drained and sliced

I cup bean sprouts

8 oz sliced mushrooms

Dressing:

3/4 c. soy sauce

1 tsp. sugar

1 tsp. sesame seeds, toasted

1 1/4 c. peanut oil

Blend all ingredients, except oil, in food processor. While machine is running, add oil in a thin stream. Serve over the spinach mixture. (This makes lots of extra dressing)

READ-A-THON UPDATE:

** for Maeve Binchy’s book, Quentins. Not the best work from this prolific Irish author. For better Binchy, I suggest Light a Penny Candle or Circle of Friends

****for a fascinating, accessible science essay collection (including “What Came Before the Big Bang?” and “Is Life Special?”)—physicist Alan Lightman’s Probable Impossibilities

zero stars for Under a Flaming Sky, only because I didn’t read it (we decided against it for my book club; the horrific true story of an 1894 firestorm that killed over 400 people in Hinckley, Minnesota seemed too upsetting). If you read it, let me know what you think!

HOME STRETCH: