tried to tell me how good I look in a couple of outfits I was considering, but Nicki is so loyal and kind she is not to be relied on for hard truths. Like Your chest looks enormous in that. Like There’s nothing that makes someone who’s barely five feet look tall.
I was more depressed than ever after I got off the phone with Nicki. It was almost ten o’clock by then. I couldn’t try on any more clothes, and I was too keyed-up to sleep. I needed to calm down and chill out, so I headed to the kitchen. It is my salvation.
When I’m whisking a sauce or kneading dough or chopping onions I feel calm and capable, like I can handle anything. I needed to put my first-day outfit and consequent nerves into perspective. So even though it was late, I decided to make a special something to take to school tomorrow for Nicki and M. They are my faithful tasters, and I love trying out new recipes on them. When I am a professional chef I will name one of my dishes after them, or maybe I’ll dedicate a cookbook to them.
As always, I lost track of time as I worked. I used the mandolin slicer to cut two English cucumbers into rounds so thin they were transparent. I salted them heavily and sandwiched them between a bunch of paper towels, then plopped a cutting board on top to squeeze out the water. At that point my dad came in and lectured me about going to bed, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything if I stayed up late. My dad tries hard, but he really can’t discipline.
As I toasted sesame seeds I thought again about yesterday’s earthquake, and about this legend Nicki told us. It was a story her grandma used to tell about earthquakes. The story is basically that the Earth is a living creature that has the same kinds of problems people have. Sometimes it gets sick with fever and chills, which we experience as earthquakes. As I watched the little seeds pop and singe in the frying pan, I thought about how we would help the earth get better. Were you supposed to starve a fever or feed it? I can never remember.
It was midnight by the time I finished making the sesame cucumbers. We were out of seasoned rice vinegar, so I ended up spending a long time making a vinegar bath from scratch. The first batch had too much sherry, and in the second I overdid the sesame oil and it tasted heavy. I finally got it just right. I layered the delicate cucumber rounds in my Tupperware cake carrier (it’s great for lots of things besides just cake), sprinkled on the sesame seeds, and snipped a few fresh chives over them for garnish before jamming the container in the fridge.
I will admit that I fussed a lot with this fairly simple dish, but I had to work until I got that good, bone-tired sensation that means I’ll sleep heavily and dreamlessly. I always get it if I work in the kitchen long enough. I guess I was pretty anxious about school starting.
So now it’s morning. I didn’t get enough sleep and I feel cranky. My hair smells like vinegar from last night. I don’t have time to wash it. I can’t hit snooze again, and I have to commit to some outfit in the next half hour. I have a feeling of dread. Oh well, at least I have M and Nicki. And a cake carrier full of sesame cucumbers . . . what more could a girl need on her first day of eighth grade?
Too Cool for School Cucumber Salad
2 English cucumbers (long, shrink-wrapped cucumbers,
sometimes called hot house cucumbers—regular
cucumbers can be used, but they aren’t as good and
they must be peeled)
3 T. salt
seasoned rice vinegar
1 t. sesame oil
white pepper
2 T. sesame seeds
2 T. snipped chives (or substitute green onions or
spring onions)
Slice cucumbers into thin slices. (A mandolin slicer is best for getting thin, even slices, but be sure to use the hand guard—the blade is very sharp on this type of slicer. Check out the scar on my left thumb for proof.) Gently toss cucumbers with salt, coating both sides. Lay several layers of paper towel on a flat surface and arrange cucumbers on toweling so they are flat and not overlapping. Lay several more layers of towels over them, and place a cutting board or large book on top. Let cucumbers be pressed for at least 20 minutes, preferably an hour. While they are getting the water squished out of them, toast the sesame seeds in a small pan over medium heat. When they are golden and fragrant, remove them to a small bowl (if you leave them in the hot pan they’ll keep cooking and burn). Put cucumber slices in a bowl and gently toss them with the vinegar, sesame oil, and pepper. Let them marinate in bowl, covered, overnight, or at least a few hours. To serve, take them out of the vinegar bath, put them on a large platter and sprinkle with the sesame seeds and chives.
First Day Catastrophe
We had agreed to meet at M’s house because it is closest to school, and her mom will drop us off. Our middle school is within walking distance, but we always run late in the morning. Besides, M’s mom doesn’t mind driving us as long as she doesn’t have to get out of the car. It’s part of her therapy for having issues about going out of the house.
It is so foggy this morning that San Francisco is completely invisible. Alameda feels lonely when it’s like this, as though it is cut off from the world. Isolated. Technically Alameda is an island, but barely; you could easily throw a rock across to Oakland from the shore. When it gets foggy though, it feels like we could be floating in some remote ocean. It makes me want to live somewhere else, somewhere more connected, when it’s like this.
The “cone zone” is filled with a long line of cars. M’s mom pulls into the line and we inch forward, watching as several kids hop out of the minivan ahead of us. These kids are fresh from elementary school. They look scared and hopeful. One of the girls frantically checks her face in the car’s side mirror and jerks back from her mother’s attempt to kiss her cheek. We say nothing, but I know we are all remembering our first day. It seems like decades ago, not just last year. We are so different now.
Finally, we pull into the getting-out part of the cone zone. We grab our backpacks and pile out of the car. M’s mom blows us each little air kisses. We each jump or lunge to catch the invisible kisses and smack our empty palms on our cheeks. It’s one of those things we have done with each other’s moms forever. Here we go, another year begins.
“Ariel, that black shirt is perfect,” Nicki pats my arm, “I don’t know why you were stressing so much last night. With your shape, you always look good.” This is so Nicki. Lies with good intentions. I snort and give her a little shove.
“What’d you make, Ariel?” M points to the cake carrier I’m carrying. M and Nicki know they are in for something at lunch when they see the carrier.
“Just a light cucumber salad. A side dish. I felt like making something last night, and we had a bunch of English cucumbers . . .” I trail off. They’ve had the salad before, though not with the homemade vinegar. I think they’ll notice the improvement.
“Yum. I love that!” Nicki claps.
“Oh, isn’t that the one with the gross red onions?” M asks. Geez, where’s the gratitude?
“M, I snipped chives on them this time, so quit whining.” I roll my eyes and M giggles. I know all their picky food issues pretty well by now, and I knew M wouldn’t eat the salad with red onion.
“Thank GOD.” She breathes out as though she had been holding her breath.
