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Black Bean Salad — Dark, Sour, and Tender, Like the Things We Hold Below the Surface

Mark called again about Carmen. They've been on three dates. He's using words like "different" and "real" and "she doesn't take my military bullshit," which in Mark-speak translates to: this woman is important and I don't know what to do with important things because the Navy taught me to organize ships, not feelings.

I listen. That's what the ate does — the eldest daughter, the holder, the one who holds everyone's feelings the way she holds the kitchen, with steady hands and the willingness to hear everything without judgment. Mark talks about Carmen the way he talks about a tactical situation he's assessing — carefully, with attention to detail, noting strengths and vulnerabilities. "She's direct," he says. "She doesn't do small talk. She asked me about Dad on the second date." Carmen asked about Reynaldo on the second date. A woman who asks about the dead on a second date is a woman who understands that the dead are part of the living and the asking is not intrusion but interest, and Mark, who carries Reynaldo's absence the way all Santos children carry it — quietly, structurally — needed someone to ask.

I made adobong pusit — squid adobo, the ink-dark version — because the conversation made me think about depth, about the things that live below the surface, about the dark flavors that are the most important ones. The squid ink turned the sauce black, the vinegar cut through the darkness with its sharp edge, and the squid was tender — briefly cooked, because squid goes from tender to rubber in seconds and the line between the two is a lesson in timing that applies to cooking and to relationships and to knowing when to talk and when to listen.

I haven't told Lourdes about Carmen yet. Mark's orders. But Angela knows — I told her because keeping secrets from Angela is both impossible and unwise, and she is the family's secondary information hub after Lourdes. Angela's assessment: "If she made Mark talk for two hours, she's either extraordinary or a spy." Angela is not wrong. The data will tell. For now, Mark is dating a Filipina-American in San Diego who asks about dead fathers and doesn't do small talk, and that is enough information to suggest that something real is happening in a family that has been waiting for Mark to let someone in.

The squid adobo was dark and sour and tender. I ate it thinking about my brother and his careful approach to love and the way Santos children hold each other's stories like we hold recipes — carefully, faithfully, with the understanding that the telling is the keeping and the keeping is the love.

I keep coming back to that phrase — dark and sour and tender — because it describes the squid adobo and also, I think, my brother. When I can’t get fresh squid, I reach for something that carries the same energy: deep color, bright acid, ingredients that hold their shape under pressure. This black bean salad — with its inky legumes, sharp lime, and clean herbs — is the dish I make when I need to stay close to that feeling without the stovetop. It is not adobong pusit. But it is honest, and sometimes honest is enough.

Black Bean Salad

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 2 cans (15 oz each) black beans, rinsed and drained
  • 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
  • 1 cup corn kernels (fresh, frozen and thawed, or canned and drained)
  • 1 red bell pepper, diced
  • 1/2 red onion, finely diced
  • 1 jalapeño, seeded and minced
  • 1/3 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
  • 3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

  1. Combine the base. In a large bowl, add the rinsed black beans, halved cherry tomatoes, corn, diced red bell pepper, and red onion. Toss gently to distribute evenly.
  2. Add heat and herbs. Fold in the minced jalapeño and chopped cilantro, distributing them throughout the salad.
  3. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the lime juice, olive oil, cumin, garlic powder, salt, and black pepper until well combined.
  4. Dress and toss. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss gently until every ingredient is coated. Taste and adjust salt or lime juice as needed.
  5. Rest before serving. Let the salad sit at room temperature for at least 10 minutes before serving so the flavors can settle and deepen. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 340mg

Grace Santos
About the cook who shared this
Grace Santos
Week 148 of Grace’s 30-year story · Anchorage, Alaska
Grace is a thirty-seven-year-old ER nurse in Anchorage, Alaska — Filipino-American, single, and the person her entire community calls when they need a hundred lumpia for a party or a shoulder to cry on after a hard shift. She cooks to cope with the things she sees in the emergency room, feeding her neighbors and her church and anyone who looks like they need a plate. Her adobo could bring peace to a warring nation. Her schedule could kill a lesser person.

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