Grilled Swordfish over Greens

I don’t have a whole lot of stability in my life. It’s something that comes with the territory of being a self-imposed expat. I didn’t mind it so much at first, but now I find myself missing the regularity of certain routines. Luckily, I have my mom.

Ever since I moved to Paris, one thing has been a constant, through moving, changing schools, friends coming and going, relationships, finances, life goals. Ever since I moved here, my mom has made it her job to be here at least once — and usually twice a year. Columbus Day has become our Paris weekend, and every year, I can’t believe how much I look forward to the barely-three days we spend together.

People always seem incredulous when I tell them how short a time she comes for, and even more so when I tell them that there are no touristic visits on the agenda. My mom lived here; we don’t need to visit museums.

Instead, we do what we do best: we shop, we eat, we talk. This year, she arrived on a Thursday, and I booked it from school to her hotel as soon as I was finished. As soon as I saw the little courtyard she had access to from her ground floor room, I was back out the door and returning with a bottle of wine, a baguette, and some cheese. And so we spent our first evening, gabbing like best friends and devouring the better part of a camembert.

The rest of the weekend continued in the same vein. We shopped. We tried on more things than we bought. We made friends with shopkeepers who fell in love with my Jackie O mother and her wild hand gestures accompanied with the French she still remembers from her time here. I wonder, sometimes, if I’ll ever be like that. Paris gets a makeover when she comes, and it never feels the same once she’s gone. The same neighborhoods, the same restaurants, the same boutiques and gabby shopgirls are still here, not only in my city, but on my regular traipse between work and school. How is it that a city that seems so familiar one moment can so rapidly change the moment that my mother is here? How is it that her Paris never remains once she’s gone?

This sounds melancholy, which is misleading. When she left, there were no tears… just reassurances. “Nine weeks!” she said, gleefully, as she climbed into her cab and rode off to the north. Nine weeks. Nine weeks until we’ll be reunited, but it won’t be the same. In nine weeks, it will be everyone, which is wonderful in and of itself. I’ll have to wait for April until we’ll have our time again — this time with Little Sister in tow. I can’t wait.

Grilled Swordfish with Mixed Greens

Another of our traditions is requesting your first meal home. When I come home in summertime, this is always mine.

2 swordfish steaks
1 tbsp. olive oil
salt and pepper

3 cups mixed baby greens
10 cherry tomatoes, halved
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
salt and pepper

Heat a grill pan or grill. Brush the swordfish steaks with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Grill the swordfish steaks about 5 minutes per side.

While the steaks cook, toss the baby greens, tomatoes, oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper in a bowl. Separate it between two plates. Top the salad with swordfish, and serve.