Weather: 61 degrees, sunny with tiny little clouds dotting the sky
What I’m listening to: Free Fallin’, John Mayer
I fell in love with a salad like this one years ago when we lived in beautiful Prescott, Arizona at a no longer existent restaurant called Prescott Pantry. The quaint restaurant had a homespun, off-beat vibe, quirky touches, and unassuming real food and fresh baked goods. The little place was always packed for lunch; I ordered a half sandwich and a half salad like this one nearly every time. We moved away from Prescott, and years later, I heard that the Pantry had closed. I have no idea what happened to the restaurant, however, I can assume that the economic downturn of those years was a factor, as it was for many mom and pop restaurants of its kind.
I’m always amazed at the way food makes an impression on us, even years later, miles away – the sounds and smells and tastes like a quiet soundtrack playing the music of times gone by. I remember who sat across the table from me, and although the content of our conversations is now obscured in my memory, those same feelings of warmth and kindness rise up with each bite of apple mixed with feta and pecan.