Lágrimas, snap pea salad

Last week I took a brief trip to New York. One of my mother's cards had been nominated for a Louie Award at the Greeting Card Association's annual event, and since the whole raison d'être of her business stems from having a gay son, she wanted me with her at the ceremony. Sadly, she didn't win (frankly, the sentiment in the card she lost to is of questionable taste), but she still found value in attending the Stationery Show and connecting with peers in the industry.

While she was doing so, I used that time to do some connecting of my own. I shopped and sushied with my dear old friend Christine and brunched with my friend Ramona at the fabulous new B.E.S. I got to see the lovely Shuna, who opened her arms to me as a fledgling blogger four years nigh, and whom I've missed dearly since she relocated to London and New York. I enjoyed coffee and conversation with Lisa, who I met only fleetingly at BlogHer Food last year. And I finally met the inimitable and affable David Leite over quiche (him) and chocolate bouchons (me). All this in two days, including the awards ceremony.

It was definitely a whirlwind, and I often found myself hustling to get from one rendez-vous to another, but I did deliberately leave myself one opening. My flight arrived on Saturday at 4 pm, and I had nothing planned for the remainder of the afternoon until my mother arrived that evening. 

New York was balmy and gently breezy, and I reveled in the summerlike weather as I meandered the streets of Chelsea. After a couple hours of aimless wandering, I began to set my sights on dinner. When the occasion warrants, I rather like dining out alone, and a tapas bar is optimal for that. Sitting alone at a two-top is sad, like dining with an imaginary friend. But sidling up to a bar, ordering a glass of spicy red and eyeing the sardines and cheeses? That's liberating.

So it was that I ended up at Boquería. First up I had a crisp duck croqueta and some lovely piquant sardine toasts, then followed up with pork belly pintxos and a salad called lágrimas -- "tears." The pork belly was cubed, dusted with paprika, wrapped in a wilted green, skewered and grilled until succulent. The salad, bright and fresh and crisp, made a flawless foil to the richness of those fatty blocks. It immediately became my New Favorite Salad, and I vowed to make it as soon as I got home. I did, and quite a few times since then already.

Lágrimas
Adapted from Boquería, New York

This is a pretty straightforward salad, so to try to go so far as a formal recipe would be a touch overkill, no? Let me put it in suitably imprecise terms, and you can tailor it to your taste. Most importantly, use a light hand. All the ingredients should be in service of the fresh sweetness of the peas. Savor the peaness. Wait, that came out wrong.

A fistful of fresh sugar snap peas, trimmed and thinly cut on a slight bias
A couple radishes, shaved thin
A wad of mint leaves, cut into a fine chiffonade
Several small dollops of creamy chêvre
A few shakes of rice wine vinegar
A healthy drizzle of peppery extra-virgin olive oil
A pinch of salt
A good crack of black pepper

Combine all ingredients but the chevre in a bowl and toss gently. Dollop chevre on the dressed salad and serve.