Happy 5th of July! But more importantly, happy 5th FF! I’ll pretend it’s fwordsonly fate. Today is also National Apple Turnover Day, National Graham Cracker Day, National Hawaii Day, National Bikini Day, and National Workaholics Day. Celebrate as you wish, but sounds right to me as half of us had to go into work today, and the other half of us ate s’mores in our bathing suits on the beach.
The day after any major Holiday has kind of a depressing energy. We spend so much time and effort building our lives and making plans around this one celebratory day that the day can’t help but feel inferior. The day after your birthday, the day after Christmas, the day after Thanksgiving, and the 5th of July all have that same, and somewhat depressive vibe. December 26th is particularly anticlimactic for me since it follows both Christmas and my birthday (oh the joys of being born on Christmas eve!). Although the days after might be more restful and relieving, they are less exciting and eventful than the days prior, cumulating in that let down feeling.
Reflecting on the big holidays, I’m reminded just how polarizing they all are – and rightfully so.
Yesterday was the 4th of July. Independence Day of the United States of America. A federal holiday to commemorate the signing of the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, 1776. The date falls gracefully in the middle of the summer, and (almost) always on a warm and sunny day, begging us to get outside and celebrate. I walked on the beach, ate dinner cooked on a barbecue , drank wine, and avoided overly political conversations with “those republican friends.” All the things I am sure Thomas Jefferson and George Washington did and hoped future Americans would do.
I remember how differently I celebrated three years ago. Probably because I was younger and way more fun than I am now, but I was hopeful, excited, and writing Hilary 2016 with my friends all over ourselves in red sharpie. The last two years, to my delight, I have been abroad and therefore pretended the day just didn’t exist. This year, as a result of some unforeseen circumstances, I was home in Santa Barbara. I spent the afternoon and evening with my parents, going along with whatever they had previously planned. They told me we were going to their friend’s house and that I would be the youngest by at least thirty years. I thought “oh no,” but I volunteered to bring the salad and assured my parents I would be on my most respectful, but not passive behavior. We made it through the night without issue, and surprisingly engaged in some calm and bipartisan conversations. I scrolled through Instagram seeing friends and family indulging in adventures and parties on their days off of work. I saw politics behind posts because whether we like it or not, celebration is tied to an underlying acceptance about the way things are.
I am not imposing judgement on one’s intentions based on how they chose to celebrate the day. I engaged in celebration, I dressed in white and blue, I ate off American flag themed plates. Maybe we drink our faces off so we can forget, for a day, all the things our country needs to improve on. I am not here to assume or presume. I think the day provides opportunity to look beyond the parties, barbecuing, and drinking. The day should encourage cognizant reflection on who it is that engages in these traditionally American celebrations and why that is. It’s a conversation worth having.
What can I do? A scary and lofty question in the face of our problematic nation. One I tried to come to terms with in my own small way, food, and with my contribution to the dinner I was invited to. Our hosts had the grill covered, making two classics – lobster rolls and bratwursts (I almost wrote about why they are “classics” but quickly realized I didn’t really care), so I did what I do best: make giant salads. I wanted the salad to be a little unexpected. I didn’t want to repeat what is always served, I wanted to create my own trajectory. I attempted to make something that I knew everyone could like. All they had to do was try. Even though I added some non-traditional and polarizing ingredients, when you put it all together – it works pretty perfectly.
While talking to myself on Instagram the other night (sincerest thank you to anyone who amuses me and my shenanagins), I made such a great salad that I was determined to both recreate for the 4th of July, and share the recipe here and now.
Summer Beet Salad
Ingredients
1 bag arugula
1 little gem lettuce
1 large heirloom tomato, sliced in wedges
1/2 sweet onion, thinly sliced
2 cups roasted beets (red + golden)
1 avocado, sliced
3 tablespoons goat cheese, crumbled
pepper
olive oil, balsamic, and lemon for dressing
Directions
Beets: peel beets and cut into 1/2 inch chunks. Roast with olive oil, salt, and pepper at 425 F for 25 (ish) minutes, flipping and stirring so they roast evenly. Let them cool for a few minutes before adding to the salad.
Salad: Layer all the ingredients in a bowl or on a deep platter. Start with the lettuces at the bottom and finish with the goat cheese and beets on the top. Drizzle the olive oil and balsamic, squeeze the lemon, and crack the pepper to desired taste.
Enjoy!
So the fifth of July. A day with an indescribably odd mood. Especially this year for me. Some people are still working, waiting for the weekend to start. Others are still hungover, waiting for Friday night to start drinking again. But the 5th of July is another day, and even though it’s not a Holiday, celebrated for any historic or important reason, it’s still a day for life and opportunity. Things we should all, to the best of our ability, empower and celebrate everyday.
With empowerment, Natasha
fwordsonly 