When Matt is away, I find myself still sleeping on the very edge of our bed. It’s funny because when we’re both in bed, Matt will often complain of me trying to dominate our space; I pull all of the sheets towards myself and tuck them tightly under my side so they’re that much harder to steal away. I sprawl out my arms and legs and not infrequently position myself in the very center of our bed. Given that Matt is 6’4 and I’m about 5’4, you can imagine how unfair this is. But as I was saying. When he’s gone — whether for a night or a few nights — I treat our Queen-sized bed as though it were a twin futon. When I wake up in the morning, I often notice that the right side of the bed is still neatly made, completely untouched. I immediately feel lonely when I see how unlived in it appears.
I’m not sure what to make of this habit, but I think it’s my way of missing him and subconsciously reminding myself that he’s not there. Not there to nudge, not there to steal the sheets from, not there to occasionally snore in my ear (only on occasion, I swear!). It feels so obvious to inch towards the middle of the bed and take advantage of my temporary aloneness. But I feel most settled in a small little corner, nearly hovering over the sideboard. Matt’s back from his recent trip home to visit family and all feels right in the world again. I’m no longer eating enormous bowls of soba noodles spiked with almond butter, fish sauce and kale, and my consumption of cookies and ice cream has gone down to a reasonable amount. And I’m back to sleeping in the middle of the bed, much to Matt’s dismay.
Speaking of familiar habits, let’s talk about salsa. Relatively speaking, we’re a salsa-loving household. But, truth be told, we don’t make a lot of salsa. I’m not sure where or how I draw the line between what I will make at home (yogurt) and what I won’t (croissants). Anyway, I’ve made salsa a few times, but always with regular tomatoes. But recently, I’ve been seeing these little jewels — tomatillos — and I got this idea in my head that I really, really wanted tomatillo salsa. Covered in a papery husk, tomatillos don’t taste anything like tomatoes. Rather, they have a citrusy bite that’s super refreshing. Since they originated in Mexico, they’re commonly found in Mexican dishes, but I believe there’s lots of room to experiment. In this recipe, they’re broiled along with a jalapeño pepper and garlic, then pureed, seasoned, and accented with some fresh cilantro. Let me tell you: a bowl of this fresh salsa won’t last long.
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Roasted Tomatillo Salsa
1 pound of tomatillos, husked
1 jalapeño, halved and seeded
2 cloves of garlic
handful of cilantro leaves
salt and pepper
1. Preheat your broiler.
2. Lay the the tomatillos, jalapeño and garlic on a baking sheet. Broil until the tomatillos are blistered.
2. Combine the roasted tomatillos, jalapeño and garlic with cilantro, salt and pepper in a food processor. Pulse to process. Season with more salt and pepper, as needed.
Musical Pairings: Matthew Dear – Beams + Roasted Tomatillo Salsa
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