I think everyone has at least one favorite thing. The item, that if threatened by fire or flood, would make into the car after family and pets, computers, passports, and photos. Maybe it’s a favorite uncle’s bamboo fly rod, the first pair of real gold earrings you could afford on your own, or Mom’s flo blue cookie jar. For me, it’s tough to say as I am a sentimental collector, but I think it might be…
…my salad bowl. It belonged to my mother-in-law, who passed too many years ago at too early of an age. For every big event or special occasion, I pull it out from beneath the kitchen counter and marvel at the perfect patina of the wood, most likely from years of soaking up oil—olive, walnut, sunflower. This bowl dresses up for a holiday dinner and down for a casual potluck. It can serve a party of six or twenty.
As I tear lettuce leaves that fall gently against the seasoned wood, I wonder what this bowl has held over all its years. It takes so much, the blend dependent upon the season, my mood, and what the refrigerator has to offer: nuts and berries, roasted squash, grapefruit sections, herbs, croutons, flaked fish, sprouts, feta.
I know it may sound crazy, but as I toss my latest salad to be taken to a neighborhood get together, I can’t help but to think my sturdy bowl is a representation of what our world should be. There’s all kinds of things in there—some sweet, some tart, some sour, some bland to bring the other flavors to light. Some ingredients are plentiful, others scarce, and sometimes even exotic. Some are tough and some are gentle, but they all mix together and make something delicious and joyous.
Who knew that a salad bowl could not only hold sage but be one?
My salad bowl…it nourishes. It teaches.
It’s a keeper.
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‘Who knew that a salad bowl could not only hold sage but be one?’ Thought-provoking and deeply beautiful words, as always! Loved this one!
Thank you, Casey. And your farewell to your job blog was fabulous. Mackenzie is going through similar trails with her career, so it really hit home. I forwarded it to her.
Beautiful, Heide. I still cherish my mother’s salad bowl.
Don’t you just love those useable heirlooms?
I, too, am a sentimental keeper. For me, it is my mother’s cookbook… pages loose, torn, and taped , a soy sauce stain here, a smudge of chocolate there…well-worn and well-loved. Thank you for sharing this deliciously insightful story with us!
Do those books happen to have a recipe for Musubi?
I love this one! Salad bowl, a sage…what a thoughtful concept. And this blog spans the years beautifully. Susan
Thank you, Susan. Your eyes on my words always matters. XO