1/2 cup raw wild rice 2 cups chicken or vegetable broth 2 tablespoons mayonnaise 1 tablespoon tarragon vinegar 1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard (or more, if desired) 1 tablespoon olive oil 2 scallions, finely chopped 3 radishes, diced 1 small tomato, drained, seeded, and diced 1/3 cup jicama, peeled and diced 1 cup baby spinach leaves, well washed and drained, plus extra for lining platter Salt and pepper to taste

The night before you are to serve the salad, thoroughly rinse the rice, place it in a glass bowl, and completely cover the kernels with water. Allow the rice to soak overnight. The next morning, carefully strain the rice and discard the water. In a large pan, bring the broth to a boil and add the rice. Cover the pan and immediately lower the heat to the lowest setting. Allow the rice to cook, covered, about 1 hour to 1 1/4 hours, or until the kernels have puffed and taste done (i.e., they are not chewy or hard). Drain the rice and measure it. You should have 1 3/4 and 2 cups cooked rice. Spread the kernels out on two plates to cool completely. For the salad, the kernels must be dry and cool. Pat the kernels dry with paper towels, if necessary.

In a small bowl, combine the mayonnaise, vinegar, and mustard, and whisk well. Add the oil in a thin stream, whisking all the while, until you have a smooth, blended dressing. In a medium-sized bowl, gently combine the cool rice kernels with the scallions, radishes, tomato, jicama, and spinach. Pour the dressing over this mixture and mix very gently. Taste and correct the seasoning. Chill at least 2 hours before serving. Turn out onto a small platter that you ma line with spinach leaves, if desired. The salad must be consumed the day it is made; it does not keep well.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

I washed the food processor and started on Goldy's Marvelous Mayonnaise. When Todd rang I gave him the message. Halfway through drizzling in the safflower oil for the mayo, Alicia banged through the front door. With all the interruptions I'd be lucky not to end up mixing vinegar into the whipped cream.

"Let's put it on the counter," I yelled over the buzzing and gulping of the processor.

We heaved a Styrofoam box up next to the mountain of chopped vegetables for the salad. Inside would be the salmon, wrapped in plastic and packed in ice. I planned to poach it that night and slice the strawberries, whip the cream, and make the lemonade all in the morning. Laura's aunt was providing the Vouvray and dishes. I was bringing the cups. Arch and Patty Sue, who had lived with us for two months, would help serve, and we would get through this.

"That's it," said Alicia after she'd downed the scone I'd offered. "How's your love life?"

"No news that's fit to print."

She eyed me. "Something you're not telling me?"