This post is sponsored by Blue Apron.

Last week, Lainey helped me turn our kitchen into a restaurant for some dinner fun with Blue Apron. I realized there are four words which quickly transform making dinner from chore to fun: “Hey, wanna play restaurant?” Menu-making, sign-designing and table-setting immediately followed along with delegations for dinner prep roles. I did not make supervisor.

It also helped that the ingredients for our meal and easy instructions for preparing it arrived on our doorstep in our Blue Apron refrigerated box earlier that day–and thanks to this week’s recipe, completely changed the way I’ll make pizza. We’ve always followed the basic pizza method of red sauce/mozzarella/pepperoni, but the pizza gods enlightened in the form of Spring Asparagus Pizza. I didn’t think I’d like the asparagus on pizza, but with the lemony ricotta mixture, it was amazing. And our simple salad had a tangy dressing that balanced it all perfectly.

Spring Asparagus Pizza with Butter Lettuce & Pea Tip Salad

1 1/2 pounds pizza dough
1 cup part-skim ricotta cheese
1 bunch asparagus
1 red onion
1 lemon
1 bunch basil
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
2 teaspoons asparagus pizza spice blend (Italian seasoning & garlic powder–use half for pizza and half for salad)

Salad

1 head butter lettuce
2 ounces pea tips
2 tbs red wine vinegar
1 shallot
(other half of Italian seasoning + garlic powder mixture)

Prepare ingredients and preheat oven to 475° F. Like always, our farm-fresh pizza ingredients came in just the right proportions (no waste!).
Wash and dry produce. Snap off and discard the tough, woody ends of the asparagus; cut the asparagus into 2-inch pieces.

Lainey snapped the asparagus…
(I tape butcher paper to our table for anything that makes a big mess now because it makes clean-up with kid helpers so easy–just leave all the scraps, roll up paper and throw away.)

…and was able to follow the recipe on her own thanks to easy directions and step-by-step photos.

Combine ricotta cheese, half of spice blend, and juice of the entire lemon (cut into 4 wedges). Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Lightly oil a large sheet pan. Gently stretch the dough to  a 1/4-inch thickness and transfer to oiled sheet pan. Carefully rub the dough into the pan to oil the bottom. Spread the lemon ricotta onto the dough. Top with the asparagus and as much the onion (sliced) as you’d like. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese and season with salt and pepper. Look at that creamy ricotta mixture!

Pause for menu creation. Very important step.

Bake, turning halfway through, 14-16 minutes, or until lightly browned.  Remove from oven and let stand for at least 2 minutes before serving. Garnish with basil.

I love “Pizza Ria.” I mean, it makes perfect sense. Also note: the tiny bottle of antibacterial wash for her dad. She knows him well.

Brett fell in love with this easy salad dressing: Mix the red wine vinegar with the rest of the spice blend and add the shallot, minced. Season with salt and pepper and whisk in 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Just before serving, combine the pea tips and lettuce and coat with vinaigrette mixture.

The pizza was divine. The whole family loved it–the kids, with the asparagus and onion pulled off (hey, we tried), but Brett and I loved the toppings. Other than the ease of cooking, my favorite thing about Blue Apron is how it’s challenged our family to explore new tastes.

The first 100 readers will get 2 meals off their first Blue Apron order free when you sign up here.

Blue Apron has many more delicious chef-created recipes we’re anxious to try. Next on our summer list: Thai Chicken Meatballs and
Pan-fried Orange Shrimp.

Thank you Blue Apron!

It dawned on me the other day that I was Lainey’s age when my parents separated and not long after that, estranged from my father for many years. Though I don’t remember it all perfectly, what I remember paired with what I know about 8-year-olds and what I love about my dad tells me enough to know that the loss was devastating. We don’t talk a lot about those years very much other than some pretty funny surface jokes to dodge the pain and my dad’s forgive-all blanket: “You were young. You didn’t know.”  But they exist—a murky lake, nearly dried up but never gone—in our past.

Somehow a very broken puzzle got glued back together many years later and our family–unique in bearing many fathers–loves each other and can freely celebrate holidays and graduations and birthdays all together in one room, understanding that these are the moments that matter most–love, family, being here for each other. “By the grace of God, you’re not all messed up,” I’ve heard. I’d beg to differ two things. A: we are a little messed up, but we don’t mind. And B: This enchanting grace of God didn’t pick us over other deserving broken families who are still broken and hurting, and it didn’t magically bring us all back together. We worked for that–all of us–with a lot of forgiveness and acceptance and choices to dig through the hard stuff, compromise, listen, show up. We’re still working.

I missed the fatherhood years Lainey’s heading into now, the vision of her falling asleep in Brett’s lap simply the preface of the many chapters to come of one of the most precious relationships there is–a child and her father. But the gap those years left open has been filled because we picked up where we left off. And this Father’s Day, I feel so incredibly grateful to know both the love of my own father and to witness the love my children have for theirs. From both of these relationships, I’ve learned a few things about strong fathers.

1. Strong fathers join you on the dance floor.

I went home to Michigan late last year to attend an event with my family, honoring my dad for his work. He broke his leg later that night–although he didn’t know it then–and ignored the throbbing pain to answer a call from us to dance. I now recall him initially turning us down, mentioning his leg hurt, but his kids were out there hamming it up, and he couldn’t let them embarrass themselves without him. So he joined us, hobbling out to the floor, limping through the songs, and well after most of the guests left the event, there we were–shaking it up, singing the wrong words, breaking it down, broken leg be damned.

And that might be what I love most about my dad as a father–he will always join us on the dance floor–literally, figuratively, passionately. In fact, many of our favorite stories about my dad have to do with a dance floor, one in particular involving his arms stretched out, flapping–a move we have trademarked as “The Eagle.” He’s turned our living rooms into disco clubs, pulled my kids out of bad moods with The Hustle across my kitchen tile, waltzed babies to sleep, evoked laughter with the cha-cha in the aisles of Costco and shown up continually, arms outstretched, ready to dance–this winter with a leg boot and a scooter thanks to three kids who danced his fracture into a 3-month injury. But that’s what strong fathers do. They answer your call. They show up for the dance.

2. Strong fathers play.

Next week, Brett and I will celebrate nine years of marriage, each rich but none of them easy. The most challenging moments of our marriage–the times we needed more communication, more love, more understanding, more recognition–have always been held together for me by watching him play with our children. Love and intimacy cannot survive alone on fathers playing, but watching the man you love act out a Barbie scene with your little girl can certainly strengthen the threadbare parts and remind you what you’re fighting for. Every day I am witness to this beautiful thing for which we fight. And I’m thankful for the way he makes the stuffed animals talk in funny voices and pushes little cars along the grout lines in our tile with motor noises to match. When we get caught up in the marriage game of pointing out who does more (of course, we are the only couple who has that argument ;o), I will always remember to let him know I appreciate how he plays. Because that’s what strong fathers do.

3. Strong fathers show vulnerability.

Real men cry. Real men admit their weaknesses. Real men don’t pretend they’re not emotional and know that their kids don’t expect them to be perfect–they only want them to show up. Real men use big strong words like “I love you” and “I’m proud of you” and they say them…a lot. Real men don’t get hung up on the past but focus on the present. How can I love good today?  

So here’s to you, dads. To the criers, the dancers, the lay-on-the-floor-and-players. To the husbands, stepdads, father-in-laws, grandpas, biological dads, adopted dads. To the strong ones. Thank you for showing up. No matter what the past holds, what matters most is “How can I love good today?” We need you. We love you. We see you and appreciate you. Happy Father’s Day.

Some favorite favorite fatherhood photos in the header slideshow today. xo

And a special hug this weekend to those who have lost their fathers. May the best memories shine.