I have what feels like a bazillion cookbook ideas. Some that are whimsical, some deeply nourishing, and all of them rooted in the way food connects us to the world and to ourselves. I’m constantly fleshing them out, researching, and workshopping them with my sister, who also happens to be in the culinary business.
For years, I’ve thought of my culinary career as wildly unpredictable, with numerous pivots, and sometimes finding myself in the most bizarre circumstances. But my sister’s journey is just as extraordinary. She’s owned her own company, worked her way into a professional four-star kitchen, authored a cookbook, and now serves as the Senior Director of Culinary Innovation at HelloFresh US. My sister is a superstar. And I couldn’t be more proud of her.
She’s also my sounding board, my filter, my truth teller. When I’m floating fifty new ideas, she listens with patience and curiosity, and then asks the questions I need to answer. She brings clarity when I’m tangled up in inspiration, and reminds me of what’s most important.
We’re twins, actually, two halves of the same coin. But in some ways we couldn’t be more different, and yet, there’s a thread that runs between us. Maybe it’s our shared life experience, maybe it’s our DNA, and maybe it’s the way we both know what it feels like to pour ourselves into a plate of food.
Yesterday, during a flurry of texts, a phone call, and one very thoughtful email, she helped me realize something I already knew deep down: It’s time to finish the book that’s been whispering to me for years.
I love all my ideas. They light up my food heart and send me running for my notebook, outlining chapters and recipes and dreaming up titles. But there’s one project that’s different - a bit cook, eat, remember. It’s the one that’s been showing up in my dreams for years, tugging at me during quiet moments, and lately, it’s been harder and harder to ignore.
So, I’m listening.
Which brings me to the newsletter today. It started out as something completely different yesterday. But after all the text and phone conversations and an email, I found myself rewriting it this morning.
If you’ve been reading A Taste of Belonging, you’ve seen glimpses of that book I’ve been slowly writing. It’s a food memoir-in-essays and some of the stories have found their way into this space through reflections, poems, and of course, recipes. Sometimes those pieces resonate deeply with readers, and sometimes they don’t, and that’s ok. I mention in my welcome note that this space is about food and recipes, but also it’s my little corner for sharing life, musings, and everything in between. And let’s be honest, there is a lot of “in between.” How can there not be? The world is far too complicated to pretend otherwise.
“Each season is like a little treasure box filled with the gift of food.” ~karista bennett
I still write about food, because food is the thread that ties so much of life together. But more and more, I find myself writing about what lives underneath it. What’s simmering beneath the surface of a recipe. I’m a food writer and recipe developer, and I love what I do. But I can’t pretend everything in the world is fine. It’s not. And for me to ignore that would feel disingenuous.
But here’s the thing, we still have to eat. We still need to nourish ourselves and one another. We still need connection and community. And so often, we find that connection through food. That’s where I find peace, and where I feel love.
And sometimes that peace comes in the form of something simple, like salad. I really love salad and I eat them year round. Cold salads, warm salads, fruit salads, dessert salads, grain salads, salads with grilled fish, meats, or poultry – I could go on. Because what is salad, really? It’s a beautiful mix of ingredients tossed together with something delicious. A little bit of this, and a little bit of that – just like life.
One of the first books I wrote was a farm-to-table cookbook, The Oregon Farm Table Cookbook - 101 Homegrown Recipes from the Pacific Wonderland, rooted in everything I love about fresh ingredients and seasonal cooking. That book was pure joy to write. And now, as spring arrives, I’m reminded all over again of why I wrote it in the first place.
Spring feels like an awakening. Mother earth slowly stirs from her winter slumber, stretching toward the light and soon she’ll be offering us the most glorious ingredients; bright greens, crisp radishes, tender herbs, and all the makings of a really good salad.
And I, for one, will be making lots of salad. Standing in my kitchen, selecting ingredients, deciding what flavors and textures I’m in the mood for, stirs my food heart. Salad makes me think of everything that is right in this world. It’s a plate filled with vibrant color, diverse flavors, and textures all mingling together into one dish of delicious nourishment. Much like the world around us.
To fresh greens, kind hearts, and small poetic joys that make life feel whole.
Wishing you peace, love, and for today, a little salad!
Karista
Substack Finds
I stumbled across Prompts From Paris by Jane Bertch last week, and it resonated with me deeply. For a long time, I felt a twinge of guilt, like I was an imposter, whenever I wandered away from writing strictly about food. But as you’ve probably noticed by now, I stray off topic quite often. I’ve found my voice. And that’s why I love everything about this Substack.
Recipe Recommendations
If you love salad as much as I do, you’ll want to keep a few dressing recipes handy. This Honey Vinaigrette is my current obsession and perfect over most fresh greens, roasted vegetables and especially arugula.
Over the weekend, I made this Canlis Salad for my family and they loved it. I’ve been asked to include it as a regular salad rotation for our family dinners. (I found the recipe on the New York Times Cooking website so it may have a paywall.) I know there are other websites that list the recipe, I just happen to like this one.
Spring Salad with Lemony Ricotta, Sugar Snap Peas, Asparagus & Proscuitto
recipe by karista bennett
I love the collection of textures in this salad, crisp sugar snap peas, tender asparagus tips, ribbons of prosciutto, toasted pine nuts and fresh mint all nestled on a cloud of creamy lemon scented ricotta. Because who doesn’t like something creamy?! It’s fresh, elegant, and deceptively simple, perfect for when you want to serve something that feels special but still comes together with ease.
Ingredients
Serves 4
For the ricotta
1 cup whole-milk ricotta
Zest of one medium lemon
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Pinch of sea salt
For the salad
1 heaping cup sugar snap peas, thinly sliced on the bias
1 bunch asparagus (about 1 pound) trimmed
1-2 cups fresh baby greens (optional)
4 slices prosciutto, torn into ribbons
¼ cup pine nuts, toasted
¼ cup fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
¼ cup crumbled sheep’s milk feta, or crumbled goat’s cheese (optional)
For the vinaigrette
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 clove garlic, minced
1 teaspoon warm honey (this tempers the lemon a bit)
¼-1/3 extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Directions
In a small bowl, stir together the ricotta, lemon zest, olive oil, and a pinch of salt until smooth and creamy. Set aside.
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Toss the asparagus with a drizzle of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Spread on a baking sheet and roast for about 8–10 minutes, or until just tender and lightly browned. Let cool. I typically use the tender tips for this salad, but you can use the entire asparagus if you like.
In a small jar or bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, Dijon mustard, and garlic. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil while whisking, until the vinaigrette is emulsified. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add additional lemon juice if desired.
In a medium bowl, toss the sugar snap peas, roasted asparagus tips, baby greens if using, and chopped mint with just enough vinaigrette to lightly coat. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Divide the ricotta mixture among 4 plates, spreading it in a swoosh across the bottom of each one. Top with the dressed vegetables, followed by ribbons of prosciutto, a scattering of toasted pine nuts, and crumbled feta or goats cheese if desired.
Serve immediately, ideally with a glass of chilled white wine and perhaps a bit of crusty bread to swipe up the last of the ricotta.
I love this post - beautiful vulnerable real writing and a fantastic recipe! Thank you!
My local farmstand and Co-op have all the ingredients for this beautiful salad. And your honey vinaigrette has a permanent place in our frig, so it's always available for something like this salad. Can't wait to serve it.
Love this post on Substack, your amazing writing is so enjoyable and relaxing, it really takes me in.