August approaches and Aiden is about to start preschool. The Head Start program accepted him, and he begins September 4th. I bought him a backpack — Cars themed, because Lightning McQueen is his current hero alongside basketball — and he has been wearing it around the apartment for a week, loaded with nothing, practicing being a student. He puts it on, walks to the door, says, "Bye, Dada, I'm going to school," walks to the kitchen, turns around, and says, "I'm back from school. It was good." The rehearsal is adorable and heartbreaking in equal measure. He is growing up. He is leaving the apartment, the cocoon, the world I built around him. He is going to learn the alphabet and counting and how to share and how to exist in a room full of other small humans. He is becoming a person beyond my reach. This is the point. I keep forgetting that this is the point.
Brianna applied for a part-time position at a nail salon in our neighborhood. She is not a nail tech — not certified — but the salon needs a receptionist for twenty hours a week, and Brianna is an excellent receptionist when the environment suits her. She interviews next week.
The heat is brutal. Ninety-five degrees on the plant floor. We go through water like soldiers in a desert. My team is holding up, but the fatigue is real — summer in a factory is summer amplified, every degree multiplied by the machines and the metal and the lack of adequate ventilation. I ice my knee every night. The cold feels like mercy.
I made pulled pork this week. My first attempt at a long cook: a pork shoulder, dry-rubbed, wrapped in foil, cooked in the oven at 250 degrees for eight hours while I was at work. Brianna turned the oven on before she left for the interview and checked the temperature periodically. When I got home, the apartment smelled like a smokehouse. I unwrapped the foil and the pork fell apart at the touch of a fork — shredded, tender, golden-barked where the rub had caramelized. I served it on buns with coleslaw (Mama's recipe: cabbage, carrot, mayo, vinegar, celery seed) and pickles. Aiden ate a sandwich. Brianna ate two. I ate three. The pulled pork was good. Really good. Not smoked — I cannot smoke on a balcony for eight hours while at work — but slow-cooked with enough rub and time to approximate the flavor. Twelve meals in the rotation now. The list is getting serious.
That pulled pork was eight hours in the making, but honestly, the coleslaw is what brought the whole sandwich together — cool and creamy against the warm, caramelized bark of the pork, a little tangy, a little sweet, exactly what the bun needed. Mama’s version has always been simple: cabbage, carrot, mayo, vinegar, celery seed — nothing fancy, just right. If you want to put that same sandwich on your own table, this is the coleslaw that makes it worth eating two.
Classic Creamy Coleslaw
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes (plus 1 hour chill) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 4 cups green cabbage, finely shredded
- 1 cup red cabbage, finely shredded
- 1 large carrot, peeled and grated
- 1/2 cup mayonnaise
- 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
- 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon celery seed
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Shred the cabbage. Finely shred both the green and red cabbage using a sharp knife or mandoline. Place in a large mixing bowl along with the grated carrot.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, apple cider vinegar, sugar, celery seed, salt, and black pepper until smooth and well combined.
- Combine. Pour the dressing over the cabbage and carrot mixture. Toss thoroughly until every piece of cabbage is coated evenly.
- Chill. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. This allows the flavors to meld and the cabbage to soften slightly.
- Taste and adjust. Before serving, taste and adjust salt, vinegar, or sugar to your preference. Toss once more and serve cold alongside pulled pork, on sandwiches, or as a side dish.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 115 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 123 of DeShawn’s 30-year story
· Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.