Lunch Salad
On nonconformity, bravery, and humanity
When everyone else zigs, I always want to zag. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. Sure, there were fashion trends and the teenage years of really wanting to be part of the in-group. I was desperate for a pair of Uggs and I layered mismatched colorful spaghetti-strap tank tops from the Gap (remember those?) just like my friends, but I also knew I had my own likes and dislikes—and they didn’t always align with whatever had been deemed cool at the time.
I still feel this way now. Sometimes, a bestselling novel is a favorite of mine, and other times the album or show I’m obsessed with is a flop. I certainly feel self-conscious—maybe even a touch of shame—and confused when what I love isn’t what everybody else loves. But deep within me, there’s an ever-burning fire urging me to be unique. To find my own voice. To not care (or at least care less) about what others think. I’ve wondered if this drive lives within all creative people. I think it’s a source of bravery.
Here in the San Francisco Bay Area, the thing everyone is zigging feverishly toward is AI. You hear about new startups offering sky-high salaried and stock options to lure employees from one AI business to another. There’s talk of the best ways to use AI, how AI will improve lives, how it’ll save the world! I don’t mean to be crass, but isn’t it all stupidly derivative? The premise of AI is literally copy-catting. It’s plagiarism. You look around, see what’s already been done, and then do the same thing? At best, that bores me to death. At worst, I feel apoplectic with rage. Anthropic openly stole the work of tens of thousands of writers and artists. (Yes, they owe me money, and if you’re an author, I urge you to search this database to see if your work has been illegally used as well.)
If you’re going to steal from someone, I’ve got a few candidates in mind: how about the ultra-wealthy, fascists, or ICE? Please don’t steal from the artists! I know their work is more compelling, obviously, but many of the authors whose work was plagiarized have spent their entire lives in an often-grueling effort to create something beautiful, something meaningful, something utterly nonconformist. Mary Oliver’s poems may have been written in minutes or hours, but her words were informed by years of time alone in the wilderness. James Baldwin’s writing was shaped by his lived experiences—his and his alone. You can stand in awe of their work, but you can never claim it as your own.
I’m not afraid of AI and I am not burying my head in the sand about it, either. It’s just, there are so many things I’d rather do than use ChatGPT. An incomplete list: go for a walk, text a friend, write a birthday card, mail it at the post office, meet my husband for a date, order a bottle of wine, share a meal with my family, ask my sons about the best and worst parts of their days, hug them tightly, give them a bubble bath, cook dinner, gaze at the moon, watch the sun rise or set, lay down in the grass and close my eyes, nap, shop at Monterey Market, inhale the perfume of ripe guava, order a slice of pepperoni pizza from Gioia and eat it piping hot on the sidewalk, listen to Sam Fender play his guitar at the Fox Theater, cry at the movies, read a book, visit the library, bake cookies, make soup for a friend who recently had her first baby after years of trying, go camping, look for constellations. I could go on forever.
I hope I get to experience as much of this humanity as possible. One of the things I love most about cooking is that it forces you to be present in the moment. You stand at the stove, you hold a wooden spoon in your hand, you stir the pot and smell the spices toasting. You use your body. You feel alive. You create something and then you get to enjoy it.
For our first recipe of the month in 2026, I am excited to share a recipe for something I affectionately call “Lunch Salad.” But don’t let the name stop you from making this salad for dinner, please. Most days, Maddie packs a salad for lunch, and I find the ritual of it comforting and stabilizing. I’ve started craving a salad of my own for lunch during the workweek. Who knows what else the day will bring: fresh political horrors, news of an ailing friend, a lost job. Despite my profession, I am not always the best at cooking for myself. Lunch is usually dinner leftovers or something that I can make quickly before getting back to work, and I assure you I wouldn’t win any awards for meeting daily protein targets. Putting together a beautiful salad, though, is one concrete way to show myself love. I’ve been newly committed to it. I wish I could make one for you, too. Here’s my recipe, plus plenty of tips and ideas for variations. And here’s to doing the things that make you feel good, that connect you to your community, that remind you of your humanity. I love you!
Lunch Salad
Serves 1 hungry person
1 small head lettuce (I like butter lettuce, little gem, and castelfranco radicchio lately)
Handful of fresh tender herbs leaves (such as flat-leaf parsley, mint, basil, dill, or a combo)
1 small garlic clove from the innermost cluster
Fine sea salt
Juice of ½ lemon
Tiny splash of red wine vinegar (or sherry vinegar or apple cider vinegar)
Freshly ground black pepper
½ small shallot, sliced as thinly as possible
Something creamy: ripe avocado, hunks of soft cheese, etc.
Something crunchy: croutons, toasted nuts, sliced cucumber
Something salty: pitted olives, an anchovy fillet or two, finely chopped preserved lemon peel
Extra-virgin olive oil
Trim the bottom of the lettuce and discard any bruised outer leaves. Peel back each individual leaf and continue trimming away the bottom until you reach the tender heart, which I prefer to eat whole, in a single bite, while rinsing lettuce. Clean the individual lettuce leaves and the fresh herbs by swishing them in a large bowl of cold water or gently rinsing them in a colander under running water. Dry the lettuce and herbs thoroughly in a salad spinner. It’s very important to completely dry the leaves, otherwise the dressing won’t coat them properly. You can lay the leaves on a clean kitchen towel, roll them up, and pat gently. (Lettuce can be cleaned and stored in the fridge up to 3 days ahead, and I find this initial step to most often be the barrier to entry when making lunch salad, so please do prep ahead if that seems easier for you.)
Using a mortar and pestle or the side of a large knife, pound the garlic and a pinch of salt to a smooth paste. Transfer to a small bowl and stir in the lemon juice, vinegar, another pinch of salt, and plenty of pepper. Add the sliced shallot and set aside to soften while you prepare the creamy, crunchy, and salty additions to your lunch salad.
Pour in about 2 tablespoons of olive oil—you want to aim for approximately equal parts acidic lemon juice and vinegar to rich olive oil. Stir until emulsified, then taste the dressing. If it’s too tart, add a little more olive oil; if it tastes oilier than you prefer, add another little squeeze of lemon juice.
Place the clean, dry lettuce and herbs in a large bowl. (Larger than that. The more space you have to toss the salad, the better.) Season the greens with a pinch of salt, then add about half of the dressing and use your hands to gently toss the salad until the leaves are evenly coated. Taste a leaf and add more dressing, if you like. Add the creamy, crunchy, and salty ingredients, and decide if any of them might benefit from a drizzle of dressing. Looking at you, avocado and cucumber. (Store any leftover dressing in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.) Serve right away. My favorite way to eat salad is with my hands.