It started with a damp tea towel and the kind of light that makes you feel like you’re supposed to do something better with your life.
Not big better. Just… fresh sheets. A scrubbed sink. Something citrus.
I had a half-used pineapple. A shriveled kiwi. One blood orange that looked more like a bruise than a promise.
Her Highness called it a salad—Martha’s Fruit Salad with Ginger-Lemon Dressing—but it didn’t feel like a salad. It felt like an apology I wasn’t ready to write.
And maybe that’s what I was doing.
Writing something sweet enough to forgive the morning.
What the Original Looked Like
Her version is tidy. Gentle little pinwheels of citrus, like spa water in solid form. Pineapple chopped clean. Kiwi sliced like it didn’t put up a fight. The dressing is lemon juice, ginger, honey… whisked till smooth. Of course it’s smooth.
Of course.
She doesn’t say anything about the smell.
But citrus always smells like the Christmas before the divorce.
Blood oranges especially.
I don’t know why.
What I Did Differently
I used maple syrup.
Not because I’m wholesome—because I was out of honey and didn’t want to dig through the sticky cabinet.
And the ginger was from the freezer, in a little zip-top bag that smells faintly like garlic now. I used it anyway.
Also—my pineapple wasn’t fresh. It was from the sad plastic tub in the grocery store that fogs up like a failed science experiment.
Still worked.
She wouldn’t approve.
I didn’t care.
How It Actually Happened
Mae walked in while I was peeling the kiwi and asked if it was “the hairy fruit.” I said yes. She said ew.
I sliced anyway.
The citrus bled a little more than I expected. Red streaks on the board. Reminded me of that time I tried to segment a grapefruit and sliced my thumb instead—Mae was little, kept saying “Mama’s leaking.”
I still have the scar.
I grated the frozen ginger until my knuckles threatened revolt. Mixed it with lemon juice and that stubborn maple syrup and a flick of zest that stuck under my fingernail.
Tossed it all.
Stared at it.
And then—
I don’t know.
I just stood there.
It was beautiful.
And I didn’t want it.
But I took a bite.
Cold. Sweet. Sharp.
Like something waking you up.
What I Learned
Grapefruit can taste like forgiveness if you eat it slowly.
Frozen ginger still carries heat.
Maple syrup makes it rounder. Softer. Like a hug with elbows.
What I Did With the Extras
Mae didn’t touch it.
Said it “looked weirdly wet.”
I ate it over the sink at 10 p.m., barefoot, while the dog stared at me like I’d finally lost it.
Maybe I had.
Still tasted good.
Would I Make It Again?
Probably.
But only when I need to feel something.
That’s As Much As I Remember
The lemon lingered on my fingers all day.
I washed twice.
Didn’t mind.
If You Want Something Messier, I Did A Version Of Her Highness’S Raspberry Clafoutis Last Spring That Caved In The Middle. Still Worth It.
FAQs
Yeah, But Don’T Push It Too Far. A Couple Hours Is Fine. Overnight? It Starts Sulking. Citrus Gets Weird. Pineapple Forgets Who It Is.
Not In My Kitchen. I Used Frozen And It Still Bit Back. Powdered Works In A Pinch, But It’S Quieter. Less Zing. More Shrug.
Then Skip It. Add Orange, Or Even Strawberries If They’Re Behaving. The Whole Point Is Freshness—Not Suffering.
Sure. I’Ve Used Honey. Once, Brown Sugar Melted With Lemon Juice (Don’T Ask Why—It Was A Mood). Just Taste It Before You Commit.
Mae Sniffed It And Said It Was “Too Juicy.” Then Stole A Pineapple Chunk When She Thought I Wasn’T Looking. So… Maybe. Depends On The Day.
Check out More Recipes:
Martha Stewart Fruit Salad
Description
Cold, Sweet, And A Little Too Honest. Like That Day. Like Me.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Prepare the fruits: Peel the kiwifruit—if it’s too soft, don’t panic, just do your best. Slice it into uneven rounds. Chop the pineapple into bite-sized pieces (mine came from a sad grocery tub and still worked). For the citrus, slice into thin pinwheels if you’ve got the patience. I didn’t. Some looked like moons. Some like mistakes.
- Make the dressing: In a small bowl—or a mug if all your bowls are mysteriously dirty—whisk together a squeeze of lemon juice, a small spoonful of maple syrup (or honey, if you found it), a mess of grated ginger (mine was frozen), and lemon zest if you’ve got the emotional energy. Whisk until it smells sharp enough to wake you up.
- Assemble the salad: Toss the kiwi, pineapple, and citrus slices into your favorite mixing bowl. Mine’s chipped. Yours can be too. Just something big enough to stir without sloshing.
- Dress the salad: Pour the dressing over the fruit. Let it spill a little. Toss gently. Don’t overthink it. If a slice breaks, it’s still food. Still good.
- Serve: Eat it right then if you need something bright. Or chill it for an hour if you’re the kind of person who can wait (I’m not). Either way, it tastes like waking up. Like a reset. Like maybe, just maybe, the day can still be saved.