This rain is slowly killing me. Death by dripping clouds, is what it will read on my tombstone.

I know we need the rain, and I’m not one to think that the weather should bend to my every whim (I lie; I totally believe the weather should heed my moods), but really. Five straight days, then a mostly-no-rain break over the weekend and then another string of rainy days this week? It’s a bit much. 

By the end of last week, I had plummeted. My husband was nearing the end of a six-day work week, the kids were crawling out of their skin, I was in that horrible creativity wasteland known as play letdown (and to think I thought I might get to skip that stage, ha), and the rain would. not. stop. I can make all sorts of jokes about my emotional state when I’m mostly okay, but last Friday I wasn’t laughing. It got so bad that my son texted the following to my husband:

Help! Call Mom and tell her you love her. She is driving me mad! She needs someone to care for her. She has stopped listening to everybody and she is getting unreasonable! Heeeellllllppppp!!!!!! Call and talk to her. Just don’t say I put you up to this. 

So yeah, it was bad. (For the record, my husband did not call because he was working and when he is working he forgets I exist. But he did show me the text later that night and…I chuckled!)

That night I made a coconut tomato soup for supper. I get a kick out of combining basic ingredients to get complex flavors, which in this case involved sauteing onions with cumin, curry, and coriander, and then adding canned tomatoes and giving the whole thing a leisurely simmer. When it was time to eat, I pureed everything, whisked in the coconut milk, chopped some fresh cilantro (the leftovers from this salad), plopped a loaf of fresh sourdough on the table, and supper was served. Simplicity is so gratifying.

The soup was a delicious antidote to foul weather blues, but—no rainbow endings here—it didn’t fix ’em. I struggled through Saturday and finally arrived at Sunday (whew) which was much better, thanks to church, Sunday company, a book, a movie, and sunshine, blessed sunshine.

This week started out fine enough. Actually, fabulously fine: my running-resistant husband, spurred into action by the previous night’s crazy movie, (a bit of swearing but otherwise a great movie for family night—recommend!) got up to run with me before going to work. We hit the road before it was light, but soon after arriving back home, the skies dumped yet again. The grayness steadily pressing down, the constant drip-drip-drip, proved too much for my fragile state. Within minutes, I could feel my tentative grip on sanity start to slip. At lunch, I drank a mug of bad weather-antidote soup and felt mildly healed. But only mildly.

The forecast is calling for another week of rain. I may not be upright for much longer….

Tomato Coconut Soup
Adapted from Luisa’s recipe over at The Wednesday Chef.

This is the original recipe, doubled. Use coconut oil in place of the butter for a lactose-free soup. Instead of cilantro, Luisa says you can garnish with chopped fresh basil or mint. Also, the recipe calls for 6-8 cups of water—it’s supposed to be a thin soup. I only added 1-2 cups (if that), and the soup was thin enough to sip from a mug.

Updated March 2019: made this without any water and it was still sippable and delicious. Also, I used half coconut oil and half butter, and garnished with chopped mint — yum.

4 tablespoons butter
2 onions, cut in half lengthwise and thinly sliced
1½ teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon curry powder
1 teaspoon each ground coriander and cumin
1/8 teaspoon chipotle or cayenne pepper
2 quarts canned tomatoes
2 13.5-ounce cans coconut milk
chopped cilantro, for garnish

Saute the onions in the butter until tender, or about 10 minutes. Add the salt, curry powder, coriander, cumin, and pepper, and cook for another minute. Add the tomatoes and a cup of water (or more: see headnote), bring to a boil, and then simmer for about 20 minutes. Puree the soup, whisk in the coconut milk, and simmer for another ten minutes. Taste to correct seasonings (it will probably need another ½ teaspoon of salt) and serve. Don’t forget to pass the cilantro.

This same time, years previous: happy weekending and margarita cake and apricot pandowdy.

This same time, years previous: the science of parenting, rhubarb crunch vanilla ice cream, how it is, immersion (lots of good book suggestions!), so far today, black bean and sweet potato chili, the family reunion of 2012, rhubarb cream pie, “that’s the story of Mom and us”, naked pita chips, warts and all, going to work, and kind of a joke.  

The Saturday before the play ended, I bought all the ingredients for this salad. It was going to be my Recuperation Treat. I planned to make it on Monday when I was in The Pit of Despair and then eat myself sick. Or else orange. Because I turn orange when I eat too many carrots. (Or at least I used to. When I was in high school, my skin turned orange. It was noticeable, too, like I had dipped myself in a bag of cheese curls. I think I actually went to a doctor about it and they said I was eating too many carrots. So I dialed back the carrots and my normal, super-white skin color returned.)

Anyway. I discovered this salad at a church potluck, one of my favorite hot-spots for recipe discoveries. As soon as I tasted the salad, I determined to find the maker of said salad as soon as possible, but then I got distracted with conversation and by the time I was ready to chase down the salad maker, most everyone had already left the fellowship hall, their empty dishes in hand. 

That afternoon I shot a couple emails to people who I thought might know who had made the salad (no luck there) before remembering that the women in our church have a Facebook page. So I hopped on over and typed in my desperate plea: “Do any of you know who brought the Indian salad to potluck today…the one with chickpeas, shredded carrots, and nuts? I NEED that recipe!” Within mere minutes, the recipe was mine. Social media, at its best!

But then my son dismounted from his bike incorrectly and by the time the dust settled, the fresh bundle of cilantro had rotted in its plastic wrap and the limes had turned wrinkly brown. So then I had to wait till I got my ducks in a row enough to make it to the grocery store again, which I finally did, and then, a few days later—Wednesday of this week, to be precise (this story is making me tired)—I finally got around to actually making the salad, whew.

I ate a couple mountains of it for supper that night, and then another mountain for lunch the next day, and there’s still enough left for a couple more lunches, hallelujah. (No one else in the family is crazy for it, though they did manage to eat it with minimal theatrics.)

What do I love about it, you ask? Let me count the ways! There’s the crunch from the nuts and carrots, the sweetness from the dates, the creaminess from the feta and chickpeas, the complex flavors from the cilantro, cumin, nutmeg, and red pepper, and the tang from the lime. It’s light and de-light-ful and I think it’s in your best interests to try it.

So do!

Moroccan Carrot and Chickpea Salad
Adapted from Popsugar.

Since my limes were gnarly, I subbed in the zest from one lemon and just used the limes for juice. It worked. Also, I used chopped mixed nuts instead of the pistachios, and minced some regular onion instead of the green onions.

I feel like this is a lot of carrot—perhaps you could dial back the carrot to three cups and toss in another can of chickpeas…maybe?

This salad is great all by itself, but I also enjoy eating it with a generous handful of salad greens. And would some chopped Kalamata olives go good with this, or is that a crazy idea? Just thinking out loud…

4 cups grated carrots
1 15.5-ounce can (or 1½ cups) chickpeas, rinsed and drained
7-10 dried dates, pitted and chopped
1-2 tablespoons minced onion
½ cup cilantro
¾ cup feta cheese
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 limes, juice and zest
¾ teaspoon cumin
¼ teaspoon each nutmeg and red pepper flakes
½ teaspoon each turmeric, salt, and black pepper
½ cup chopped nuts (pistachios, cashews, almonds, pecans)

Toss together the carrot, chickpeas, dates, onion, cilantro, and cheese. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, juice and zest, and spices. Pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss to combine. Just before serving (so they don’t lose their crunch), add the nuts.

This same time, years previous: fence, the quotidian (5.6.13), my boy, rhubarb-smothered chicken and chicken with mushrooms, I have nothing to say, the bike question revisited, and baked macaroni and cheese.