When June Comes to Dinner

Have I mentioned yet that I married Beaver Cleaver? Well, I did. Oh, I briefly considered comparing the husband to Wally, the cool big brother of the Cleaver clan. But in full honesty, and because I have seen the freckles and heard the stories, I know that I married The Beav.


And I know that this is true because his mother… my mother-in–law… is June Cleaver. Yes, she is.

Actually, that other June has nothing on my mother-in-law. She raised two boys. My mother-in-law raised FIVE… count ‘em FIVE rough and tumble boys. And yet, when I first met The Beav, the carpet in her common area was white.

And it was clean.
Always.

Lest you assume that June is one of those clean freak “remove your shoes at my front door” types, she isn’t. She’s just June Cleaver, which means that she lives in a tidy little sitcom set where invisible stage hands remove dirt and clutter during the station breaks.

At least that’s the view from my side of the screen.

June whips up culinary masterpieces from her incredible self-cleaning kitchen. Never, in 25 years of marriage, have I seen that woman make a cooking mess. I, on the other hand, can’t make a bowl of pasta without turning my kitchen into a crime scene. I inherited the messy cook gene from The Duchess.  It’s frustrating. I try so hard … only to turn around and discover some smirking pot or bowl and think, “Where in the world did YOU come from?”

In that 25 years of marriage, June has assigned me one task in her kitchen, and that would be the task of preparing the relish tray. That's because my culinary gifts are limited to the arrangement of pickles and olives on a pre-divided platter.

So you can imagine how June’s visits to this neck of the woods are accompanied by weeks of anxiety. Over the years, I have discovered a method that works for us. I’m glad to share… just in case you married a Cleaver too.

We grill.  He grills.

Not only does that keep the mess out of my kitchen, but there is an ulterior motive. You see… if the grilling is being done by the husband... her son... the one that she raised.... a true June is always a cheerleader and never a critic. A true June can retire well off her  Mommy Point Pension.

OK, not very Proverbs 31ish, I admit. But it works for us.

And that would be the inspiration for this post this morning.

Because we had a salad the other day which I like to call Mother-in-law Salad. I call it this because once, about a decade ago, June came for a visit.

And along with the grilled vegetables and grilled pork tenderloin and baked potatoes for dummies, I served this salad.

And June asked for seconds.

And the recipe.

And I think that any dish which passes the June Test must be worth sharing.

So I am.

Mother-in-law Salad

           Green leaf lettuce
              (the purpley green leafy stuff from my garden)
           One pear, diced
           About ½ cup of walnuts
           About ½ cup of bleu cheese
               (The Beav prefers feta)
           One small red onion thinly sliced 
              (or chopped if you prefer)
           And raspberry walnut vinaigrette.

That’s it.

Delish.

I know... I know... couldn't she just post the recipe without all that yakking? No.

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And per suggestion from the comment box below, I'm going to peek in the door at Foodie Friday. What do you think they'll do when Lucy shows up?