Hope Springs. With Greek Orzo Salad.

Provided you could overlook the pollen-induced chartreuse film, yesterday was absurdly gorgeous here in Charlotte. (Big shout-out to the manufacturers of Nasonex and Allegra!)

Sunny, slightly breezy, high in the 70s -- it promised to be an ideal outdoor day.

However, our local meteorologist was quick to caution us gardening types against plunging into the potting soil. The weather is expected to dip below freezing again later this week, and tender new plants risk being reduced to nothing more than 8-inch deep cylinders of good dirt, if set out too early.

Now, I'm not a risk taker. First, I'm a mom. Caution's part of the package they send home with us from the hospital. Second, I'm a divorced mom. Adventure's not part of the package they send home with us from the lawyers' offices. Finally, well, I've always preferred certainty, to um, not.

Whatever. I ventured forth to our local Home Depot. Just to see what they had. OK, fine. Let's skip to the last chapter, where I ended up buying a ridiculous number of plants. The hydrangeas, with their woody stems and the parsley, with its cool weather tolerance, shouldn't have any problem. The daisies? Iffy. The 18 coleus plants, six New Guinea impatiens and two basil plants? Well, I should know better.

When I was a kid, my bus stop was in a neighbor's front yard, and on the very coldest days of the year, the dozen or so of us would huddle against the side of the house. There was one particular spot where warmth just seemed to leak out between the bricks.

Now that I'm a homeowner, I can't say that I've ever longed for similar insulation-failings, but just in case, I did set the most tender plants close to the house. Maybe it will help. Or maybe I'm just kidding myself.

Inexplicably, I also put out some dill this year. I've never had luck with dill. I plant it every year, and every year, within two months, the potting soil it arrived in is all that remains. What the hell. That'll be another $3.48 (plus tax)

If you don't allow for the time I spent planting, I'll be out a grand total of, well, let's not do that math, OK?

Look at it this way. If the dill survives, it'll be an unexpected gift. The coleus plants and impatiens? To be honest, they make me happy. I'm just crossing my fingers that the happiness lasts more than three days. The basil? I adore fresh basil and it was worth a shot to have an earlier crop. If I'm very lucky (and the meteorologist very wrong), in three or four weeks, I'll be cutting it for fresh arrangements and working it into one of my very favorite pasta dishes.

The temperature's already dropped to 53 degrees. Maybe I'm a greater risk-taker than I realized. Hope springs ...

Greek Orzo Salad

Dressing

3/4 cup olive oil

1/2 cup red wine vinegar

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

2 cloves garlic, minced fine

1 teaspoon oregano (rubbed fine between palms of hands)

salt and pepper to taste.

Salad
1 lb. orzo pasta, cooked, drained and rinsed in cool water

1 cup chopped fresh basil

8 ounces feta cheese, crumbled

2 roma tomatoes, diced

1 medium can black olives, sliced

4 cooked boneless chicken breasts, diced (or optionally, 1 1/2 pounds cooked, shelled shrimp)

Mix dressing ingredients. Pour over remaining salad ingredients in a large bowl and mix well. Chill and serve. (Keeps for several days.)

What A Trip

I'm beat.  The kids and I spent the past three days spiraling out of control, spinning upside down, whirling in circles, plunging perilously close to the ground, and on occasion, emerging drenched to the skin.

Yep.  We were at Universal Studios Orlando.

It was an absolute memory-maker of a trip, and we couldn't have been any luckier.  Due to the divinely inspired Express Passes, lines were reasonable, if not non-existent.  Service was unfailingly pleasant, and Mother Nature provided perfect weather.  The food was fine, the parks hygienically clean, and the rides both thrilling and accessible.

Blah, blah, blah.  Honestly, it was all good.  And that's pretty astounding when you consider that I was seeking to please a relatively cautious 12-year-old girl, an absolutely incautious 14-year-old boy, and well, me.

We were lucky enough to be vacationing with several other families -- all with similarly-aged kids.  Every one of us rode the scariest rides as many times as we could stomach.  Not surprisingly, 14-year-old stomachs differ from those of 46-year-olds.

Even my daughter, for whom a plane ride is sufficiently adrenaline-churning (the taxi ride from the airport nearly did it for me!) took on the tallest, twirliest, zippiest, ear-popping, stomach-dropping, and undoubtedly, brain-swelling, ride -- the Incredible Hulk.  She also got to celebrate her (early) birthday perched on the bar of the Hard Rock Cafe, where she and another friend were saluted.  Is it too much to hope it was the last bar she's invited to dance on?

Even though this wasn't an "educational" trip -- no statues, artwork, memorials or history lectures for the kids -- I did squeeze out one essential lesson on this trip.  No woman should ever shop for a bathing suit on her own.

Holy Margaritaville.  How else to explain some of the, ahem, "bathing suits," I saw down by the pool?

Friends don't let friends drive drunk.  Likewise, no woman would ever let another woman walk out of a dressing room -- much less onto a pool deck -- in some of the ill-fitting get-ups I saw.

A friend would say, "Let's see what else they have."  Or, "That one really doesn't work to your best advantage."  Or, "You know, I think that runs a bit small.  Let me see if they've got it in another size -- or three -- up." 

Actually, I'd like to reconsider.  A friend might not get the job done.  A better choice might be a daughter.  Mine would never mince words.

"How do I look in this?"  "Do you think this fits right?"  "Does this color look good on me?"

There'd be no hesitation from my soon-to-be 12-year-old.

All I can figure is that the barely bikini-clad ladies at the pool don't have daughters.  Plainly, "gross," "disgusting," and "are you serious?" are the kinds of forthright comments they'd never heard.  

Harsh? Sure.  But I'd far rather hear the soul-searing truth in a dressing room, than see it on the faces of hundreds of poolside strangers -- particularly on a deck laden with plenty of perfect bodies flaunting perfect suits.

I'm one of the lucky ones, though.  I do have a daughter to help me out -- and she loves to share her critiques of me as freely as she loves to shop.

Before heading to the mall, though, I've got a a little section around my midriff to address.  I see a lot of salads in my future, including this favorite green salad, with lots of green ingredients and lots of textures and bright flavors.

Green, Green Salad

Dressing

3-4 tablespoons fresh squeezed lemon juice

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

freshly ground pepper

Salad

1 Granny Smith apple, unpeeled, diced

1 rib celery, diced

1 scallion, sliced thin

1/4 cup green olives, sliced (no pimentos)

1 avocado, diced

2 stalks hearts of palm, sliced (optional)

1 bag of prewashed baby salad greens (butter and Bibb are good)

4 ounces good blue cheese, crumbled (optional)

Whisk together dressing ingredients.  Stir in apple, celery, scallion, olives and hearts of palm.  Gently fold in avocado (don't mash).  Spoon dressed ingredients over individual servings of salad greens.  Season with more salt and pepper, if needed, and serve immediately with crumbled blue cheese, if using.

 

Another Favorite Word -- And Food

I suspect that one reason Charlotte was ranked number two, rather than number one, in the recent "Manliest City" survey is because we have two Trader Joe's grocery stores. Nashville, which took the top honors, only has one. Someone had to pay the price, and if it means I get to have a Trader Joe's just a few miles away, it's OK by me.

Trader Joe's, if you're not familiar, is a privately owned, groovy kind of grocery store, chockfull of organic produce, fresh-made salads, imported cheeses and various oddities (chocolate-covered, salted edamame, anyone?) that make it a destination, rather than an errand. ( They also have a large selection of very fairly priced wines, but I'm on the abstinence plan until Easter.)

Among the mouth-watering, wallet-opening selection of prepared foods, Joe offers "balela," a chickpea salad, which, in addition to being both unusual and flavorful, is also a lot of fun to say. I'm adding it to my list of favorite words, along with "serendipity" (see my February 22 blog entry) and "malaka" (a handy Greek word I won't define here because my kids may read this).

Balela, balela, balela. There. I'm already smiling.

Oddly, balela is only available seasonally, which means I haven't been able to get my fix for a couple of months. Last night, I made my own attempt to duplicate it, and three, no, make that four, servings later, I've got to say it's pretty good -- even if it does nothing to improve our fair city's "manly" rating.

Balela (Chickpea Salad)

2 cans of chickpeas (rinsed and drained)

1 cup chopped parsley

1/2 cup chopped mint

1 roma tomato, diced

1/4 cup red onion, diced

1 clove garlic, minced fine

1/2 cup white balsamic vinegar

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

generous squeeze of lemon juice

1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt

generous grinding of black pepper

Gently stir together chickpeas, parsley, mint, tomato and red onion. In a separate bowl, stir together remaining ingredients and pour over chickpeas. Stir gently and refrigerate. If I can restrain myself, it will last 4-5 days in the fridge.