the whole plate.

“big city; little steps.”

chickpeas and red quinoa in an almond butter dill sauce.

City walking is a special kind of invigorating.  The terrain is flat, but the atmosphere is always new: brick and trees fading into cardboard and grime, skyscrapers giving way to walkups with wrought iron stairs.  My sidewalk companions wear white wires in their ears and stare at black screens in their hands.  They sport Oxford flats or ballerina slippers, and they pound concrete square after concrete square.   We’re a swarm together; we move fast; we bump into each other and breeze past, no apology necessary.

I know New York is a big city, but it has never felt that way to me.   It may be overflowing with shoebox restaurants and shoebox apartments and shoebox boutiques, but it is all so compact.  I walk it like it’s only an oversized backyard, covering dozens of blocks at a time because really, a subway stop or two isn’t so far.

Walking is a way of life, and that is one thing I adore about city living.  But this week, I discovered how long a Manhattan block really can be. See, I’m kind of injured.

Don’t ask me how: I do wish I had a good story to pair with my current limp.  I believe it was a simple misstep on a casual stroll that did me in, which really, is just unfortunate.  So I’ve been hobbling.  I’ve been icing an ankle that was swollen for three days.   I’ve been transferring subways where I’d usually just walk, and I’ve been taking cabs when I don’t want to strain my leg anymore.  I’ve stayed off the yoga mat.  In short, I’ve been taking a rest.

It’s weird.  On Sunday, I had plans with my friend Emily to check out a speakeasy we’d been dying to try, where cocktails can be made with cilantro and cayenne pepper and not a drop of sugar, just how I like.  But my good friend rationalized with my go-go-go brain, reminding me that walking even the few blocks to the subway was more than my ankle should do.  She was right, of course, and so we ventured up to my roof with a bottle of red, saving the cocktails for another night.

While I waited for Emily to arrive, I prepared dinner for myself.  I made something easy, cool, and simple.  Something soothing in its cleanliness.  Beans, grains, nut butter, and dill – the most refreshing herb, at least to me.

I may not be thrilled by this temporary injury, but I’m learning from it.  I’m learning how much of a big deal it isn’t to take a couple weeks off exercise.  I’m learning how wonderful it is to sit for a while, rather than constantly be on the go-go-go.  Chatting on the roof after this meal, the chilly breeze passing through my thin sweater, I still had a “New York moment.”  I had just slowed down the pace.

♦♦♦

chickpeas and red quinoa in almond butter-dill sauce [serves 4 as a light main]

• 1 c red quinoa
• 2 c cooked chickpeas
• 1/4 c almond butter
• juice of half a lemon
• 1.5 T apple cider vinegar
• 2 T water [or more if needed]
• couple pinches sea salt
• 3 T fresh dill

1) Cook quinoa according to package directions.

2) Whisk or blend together almond butter through salt.  Add more water to reach desired consistency.

3) Toss together quinoa, chickpeas, almond butter dressing, and dill.  Chill in refrigerator minimum one hour.

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