Pink IS your color

One of the interesting things about cooking and eating seasonally is how the colors of what we grow and eat change. In the spring, it seems that everything has that wonderful pale green color about it. Think asparagus, peas, snap peas, and things like that. As the weather warms up, we start seeing the darker greens, and the first shades of red. Summer brings the gold yellow of corn and bright red tomatoes, and even darker green, eventually giving way to the almost black color of eggplants and late tomatoes. As fall comes in, the oranges darken and we get the browns, the dark greens, the dull, but still beautiful greens of grapes, the purple of other grapes.

I generalize of course, but there's always something "bright," until you get to autumn. We get a respite with the lovely oranges and yellows from citrus, but unless it's strawberry season: where's the PINK? I don't quite know why I was thinking about this a few nights ago. Perhaps it was because I was thinking of an older recipe I have, for making candied grapefruit peel. I make TONS of candied grapefruit peel at the holidays. If I made 300 pounds of it, people would eat it. And it's beautiful, just as it is. But I recalled a recipe that called for adding red food coloring, to make it pink.

No thanks. I would rather not make it than use a fake color in my food. But sometimes, for whatever reason, you want something pink.

I thought of my friend Christa, for whom pink is not a favorite color, it's a way of life. To think of Christa is to "think pink." I cannot conjure up a mental picture of her without that color there, somewhere.

Now, in saying this, I am merely quoting a fact. Christa is one of the sharpest crayons you'll find in a box. And I say that as one who was ready to be skeptical. See, Christa came into my life, when she was dating my friend Steve (one of many friends named Steve. It gets confusing. I'll just say "Austin Steve," and that will keep you focussed). I HAVE gotten past the days where, when someone was dating a friend, when we met, I would embrace them and whisper into their ear "hurt him and I will kill you," just as I have gotten past the written test, ("Question 1: what are Steve's five favorite foods in order? NO PARTIAL CREDIT. Question 2: how many pair of black socks does Steve have in his dresser?"), I am still skeptical of anyone new. I think Christa broke the record for dispelling that skepticism. And had I read Armisted Maupin's book before I met Christa, it may have been different "It's not important to keep up. It's important to keep open." Yes, I've written that about my 30 something friends. Christa and another friend, Keith, fall into the 20 something friend group, and it is in fact important to keep open. No one takes better care of me than Christa does. NO ONE. And no one has a core of harder steel than she does. So, don't let the pink fool you, she is truly a "steel magnolia" (and remember: magnolias ARE in fact pink).

Anyway, working in the kitchen one night, with a leftover pomegranate (how did I wind up with a leftover pomegranate? Don't ask), I had an idea for "something pink and red." It was so easy, and so refreshing, in the midst of all this late autumn food, that I had to record it. And given the connection to Ms. C, I'm naming it "Christa salad."

You can do this a number of ways. When you have finished peeling the grapefruit, if you slice it into nice, thick rings, you can make a formal salad, by laying the slices on the plate and spreading the pomegranate over it. Or, for an informal treat, just "supreme" the grapefruit, by peeling it and slicing the segments out of the whole fruit, letting them fall into a bowl to catch the juice. Or, really, I guess you could just half the thing and put the seeds on top, but that's no fun.

In "Christa salad deluxe," what you would do is pile up a bunch of this salad in a flute glass, and then pour in some champagne. Grapefruit and champagne are as natural as tomato and basil. Here's one for ya: next time you're at brunch, instead of ordering a mimosa, ask if you can have one with grapefruit juice. If the staff smiles at you, they know what they're doing, and you should go back. If they can't do it, leave right now. And if they charge you extra, it better be damn good.

Here's the "recipe" for Christa Salad.

Get three nice sized grapefruit, preferably ruby reds, but regular pinks will do too. Cut away all of the peel, and all of the white membrane (I do this by cutting round slices off of the bottom and then cutting in a long line around the fruit, with my knife held vertically.) When you're done, slice them in one of the ways above, making sure you save that lovely juice.

To get the seeds out of a pomegranate, cut it in quarters, and hold it under water, as you push the seeds out. They will fall to the bottom of the bowl of water while the crap comes to the top, making it easy to collect them, after you drain off the water. Then just put them in with the grapefruit. I like a LOT of them.

If you want some bulk, then add a chopped up apple, but I think probably the way this is going to be made in Austin, is in a glass, or a bowl, with some pink champagne poured over it.

Christa babe, this is for you. Make it for yourself today, and make it for guests. They'll be amazed. And since you WERE the inspiration, you can take credit.