Jicama-Citrus Salad, extra ordinary

This week has been all about resisting. Resisting the dark chocolate with nibs sitting on the counter winking at me, resisting the daily workout, the cold weather, another meatless meal (hence yesterday's bacon-meets-eggs ice cream fantasy). I mean, I'm resisting everything--writing, cleaning, brushing my teeth. It's all work. I don't even want to plan for the closer-than-it-appears-and-speeding-like-a-fiery-el camino holiday. I'm loathe to admit it, but I even feel myself resisting that pull, that slide into politics as usual....

So today, I didn't have to be anywhere, and I did the only thing I knew to do to stop my resistance: I gave in to my urges.

All of em.

I gobbled up more than I'll tell you of the 2-lb. bar of 79% cocoa-ified chocolate. For breakfast. I skipped my workout today (I'm sore from last night's walk in the Elliptical jungle, anyway). I flung open all the windows and covered myself in my bathrobe overtop two sweaters and a sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants, sweat socks and slippers. I read and read and read and didn't write anything I didn't want to. I didn't clean the floor (except for that one spatter (I hate when gloppy-liquidy-food items smack and dry on the kitchen floor; I can't control myself--it's like a homicide I have to report)). I didn't brush my hair, my teeth or the counter after I ate my lunch over it without a plate--nutty-seedy toast that I just waive the butter and jam at, my favorite.

I had to cave, man. It's like, once in a while, no matter how strange or crazy-seeming--once in a while, if we don't give in to our needs, then that natural tension, that normal level of resistance will turn on us, eat us up, make us mean. Know what I mean?

I don't wanna be mean.

Another thing I had to kick to the curb today was all the soup in my fridge. I've been making soup lately because, well, we already know: it's cold out. And I love soup. But not today. No way.

Today I made something so un-soup-y, so un-cold weather-y, that I coulda been on a Mexican beach--and that wind whistling through our crappy window screens wasn't signaling snap freeze but kisses blown for sailboats in the bay. And my triple layered, pink robe-topped getup--just the latest in beach ware.

Anyway, instead of the baby lima bean and chipotle soup I'll tell you about next time, I made this:
Jicama-Citrus Salad.

If anything is outside the ordinary, it's jicama. A flavor you can't pin down, it wavers weirdly between a bean, a radish and a potato. Its consistency, too, kinda pear, kinda potato, but with density. It's not sweet, exactly, no. More legume-y. It goes happily with orange and lime, onion and cayenne. It's a fun crunch-substitute for water chestnut. Oh, just look it up.

It is damn good.

Tomorrow my resistance will likely be back up and I'll be living again in San Marcos, Texas, worrying my work and the economy and our president. Today, though, today was just for me and hope for something outside the routine...or, in a word, extraordinary.

Here's how you, too, can live 6-8 servings worth of extra ordinary:
Jicama-Citrus Salad

Peel, half lengthwise, and cut into matchsticks:
1 med jicama (~1 pound)

Cut into 1/4-inch slices:
2 small cucumbers, peeled, halved lenghwise, seeded and diced

Cut both ends off:
3 med Naval oranges

Stand the oranges on a cutting board and cut away the peel and all the white pith. Halve lengthwise, then cut crosswise into 1/4-inch slices. Toss the jicama, cucumbers, and orange slices in a large bowl, along with:
6 radishes, thinly sliced
1 small red onion, thinly sliced
1/3 c fresh lime juice
Let stand for 20 minutes, then season with:
salt, to taste

Spoon the salad onto a platter and drizzle the accumulated juices on top. Sprinkle with:
2 tsp ground chili pepper
1/3 c chopped cilantro

(from The Joy of Cooking, 2006 edition)