The lovely month of May sped by, bringing us June and another first Wednesday lunch at my house. The first Wednesday guests always vary, depending on schedules, and this time Sybil couldn’t join us. This zesty senior was helping a friend with the opening of a nightclub in Hallowell. Now, Hallowell, population 2,400, seems an unlikely place for a nightclub, but in central Maine, Hallowell is quite the little swinging place. It has The Wharf, a rowdy bar that features music; a pub (The Liberal Cup): a reasonably good Chinese restaurant (Lucky Gardens): a quite good restaurant that serves “progressive” American Food (Slates):as well as other sundry places to eat and drink. So who knows? This new nightclub—Club 223—might be a huge success.

However, even though we lost Sybil, we gained Roger, Alice’s husband. This is the first time Roger has been able to join us. Popular man that he is, someone is always clamoring to have lunch with him on first Wednesdays. This time we got lucky, and Roger was free. Claire almost couldn’t come because of a last-minute mailing that her boss requested, but she tucked to, as the saying goes, and was able to join us, albeit a little late.

Alice brought a cool, crisp mint-infused three-pea and bean salad—snow peas, sugarsnap peas, and green beans as well as leeks, chives, mint, and lemon. The recipe recommends serving this dish hot, but Alice decided to serve it at room temperature, and we all agreed it made a fine salad that was a perfect accompaniment to the tarragon chicken salad that I had prepared. Homemade bread, corn chips, and cherry parfaits rounded out the meal. There was also plenty of hot coffee and iced tea.

Food is a central part of these lunches, but the conversation is also equally good, and one topic was human genetic diversity, a topic that should be more broadly discussed. Even in America, we tend to think of ourselves as belonging to a specific group. Sometimes it’s ethnic—I consider myself to be a Franco-American and Claire considers herself to be Irish American. Sometimes it’s by color. We are white or we are brown or we are black. But, as genetic testing has shown us, there may be little surprises in our background, and especially for those of us who are of European descent, we are most often a complete mix of ethnic backgrounds with nary a whiff of “racial purity.” Even those from other parts of the world are often not what they seem. I remember reading in the New York Times that a prominent African American—whose name escapes me—discovered a Chinese ancestor in his family tree. Nobody in his family had any memory of this Chinese ancestor, but genetic testing revealed that this ancestor was indeed part of their family history.

Roger spoke of his own family history and of his surprise in discovering that some of his forebears had come from the Baltics. When I talked about my Norman ancestors, he mentioned how they were a combination of the French and the Norse, who had zipped down from Scandinavia to invade France. Thus we get “Norseman” hence Normans, who would later invade England and conquer the Anglo-Saxons, with whom they shared a common ancestor—those marauding Norse. (This was back in the Dark Ages, long before Scandinavia became one of the most peaceful and progressive places in the world.)

Oh, what a tangle! It’s high time to dispense with any notions of ethnic or racial purity. Most of us are “mutts,” whether we know it or not, and as time goes by, we’re getting even “muttier.” Science is showing us the reality of our ancestry, now it’s up to us to broaden our horizons and accept the broad sweep of humanity that comprises homo sapiens. Then, maybe we can move on to accepting the value of other species.

Chicken Tarragon Salad

(This is the type of recipe that my husband, Clif, and my daughter Shannon hate. It is one without any exact measurements. Still, even a beginning cook should be able to figure it out.)

The meat from one small roasted chicken, say 4 or 5 pounds. I usually cook the chicken the night before and remove the meat from the bones so it is ready the next day. You could also use a precooked rotisserie chicken from a supermarket.

Sour cream, about a cup

Mayonnaise to taste

Chopped celery, anywhere from ½ cup to 1 cup. It all depends on how much you like celery.

1 teaspoon or so of dried tarragon or 1 tablespoon or so of fresh tarragon, if you have it

Salt and pepper to taste

Roasted almond slivers, ½ cup or so

Cut the chicken into bite-sized chunks and put in a large bowl. Add chopped celery. (Onion lovers might want to add some chopped onions at this point, but I am not an onion lover.) Add the sour cream, a bit at a time. Add a few tablespoons of mayonnaise. Mix until you get the consistency you like. I like mine a little on the dry side. You might like a moister salad, which means you would add more mayonnaise. Add the tarragon. Taste. Add more if you think it needs a little more zip. Ditto for the salt and pepper.

Arrange a bed of lettuce on a large plate. Make a nice mound of chicken salad on the lettuce. Cut up some tomato triangles and edge the salad. Cover the top with roasted almonds. Take a few minutes to admire this pretty salad. Serve with bread, crackers, or corn chips.