Have you ever just stood in front of your kitchen table and screamed?
Next time you’re angry or upset about something. You should do it.
It’s life altering.
Sophie and I have gotten into this habit of “shaking it out” whenever we’re upset.
It’s a very technical procedure. In which you move your arms and legs every which way, flailing around your apartment (or 1st Avenue) like a lunatic, forcing everyone around you to consider the possibility that you’re seizing.
If no one has called an ambulance by the time you’re done. You’re not doing it properly.
We’re talking more than just spirit fingers or jazz hands here, people. Your arms should almost be coming out of their sockets. Go big or go home. That sort of thing.
Anyway, in addition to recruiting every emergency medical team within a five mile radius, “shaking it out” also has the effect of putting a smile on your face. So do it. Come on. Get happy.
What does this have to do with screaming at your kitchen table?
Well. I was under the impression that no event that could befall a person would be too big, too all encompassing for “shaking it out”.
Then I got $6,000 worth of rejected insurance claims in the mail from my myriad MRIs, X rays, orthopedist and physical therapy visits.
And so I screamed.
In the end. “Shaking it out” paled in comparison.
After about twenty calls to every billing department at the Hospital for Special Surgery, I think we may finally have figured out the problem. It has something to do with the fact that my school insurance is completely negligent, worthless, and unwilling to actually cover anything at all whatsoever. And me having to switch to using my father’s insurance, under which I’m still (thankfully) covered. By virtue of the fact that I’m under 25 and still in school.
Another perk to this being, of course, that should the claims get rejected again they will be sent to my parents’ house rather than mine. So if you hear some really loud screaming in Queens. You’ll know what that’s about.
The moral of all this being that while all of this was still up in the air, I needed comfort food.
And by comfort food. I mean pasta. I should tell you that it had been two weeks since I’d had pasta. Two. Weeks.
Which, really, is enough to induce kitchen table screaming all on its own.
And so when I found some locally grown green beans and grape tomatoes at my nearest Whole Foods. A pasta salad was born.
Although it tastes better cold the day after you make it, I have to say that I really did like it. It would be perfect to bring to a 4th of July barbecue this weekend. Or a Canada Day affair tomorrow. (I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to Independence Days).
Or, you know. If you feel an urge to stand in front of your table and scream. It’s good for suppressing that as well.
Roasted Green Bean and Fennel Pasta Salad
Serves 4 as a main dish, 8 as a side, adapted from Got No Milk
1 lb pasta
1 lb fresh green beans, cut into 3/4 inch pieces
2 medium onions, sliced thinly
1 small fennel bulb, sliced
1 pint grape tomatoes, halved
12 pitted kalamata olives, sliced
2 tbsp olive oil
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp dijon mustard
1/2 tsp salt
freshly ground black pepper
1. Preheat the oven to 400. Arrange the green beans, onions, and fennel on a baking sheet. Spray with cooking spray or drizzle with olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and roast for 20-25 minutes or until tender.
2. Cook pasta under al dente. Drain and place in a large serving bowl. Mix in tomatoes, olives, and roasted veggies.
3. Whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, dijon mustard, balsamic vinegar, salt, and pepper. Drizzle over the pasta salad and toss to combine.