Colorful Vegetable Salad

Easter. Brunch in Bellevue. Karen made ham. The standard.

A blog reader wrote about her own adoptee experience. We exchanged three emails this week.

Reading at night. A novel by a Korean-American writer about a family in 1990s LA. I underlined four sentences. The underlining is the marking-of-the-territory of the soul.

I read a thread on the Korean Adoptee subreddit Saturday. Some posts brought up old anger. Most are people figuring it out in real time. We are not unique. We are a community.

Therapy Tuesday with Dr. Kim. We talked about the parents — the two sets, the one living, the one gone, the one who became real after thirty years and the one who was real my whole life and is now gone. The work is the layered work.

Hana left a Lego on the kitchen floor. I stepped on it at two AM. Standard.

The shiso on the south fence is fragrant and unruly. I brushed past it taking the compost out and the smell stopped me. The smell is the country. The smell is Jisoo's apartment.

Jisoo sent a photo of the dol the kids did for our visit last summer. The photo went on the fridge.

Sprint review at Amazon Friday. Two hours. I could have been on a podcast.

David came over for Sunday dinner. He brought some tomatoes from the Bellevue garden.

Sunday farmers market on Wallingford Avenue. The kabocha at the Asian vendor's stall. The shishito peppers. The brokered conversation. We bought too much. We always do.

I sat at the kitchen counter at six AM with a notebook and a cup of green tea. Writing time before the house wakes. The pre-light hour is the only writing hour I trust.

The newsletter went out Sunday morning. The opening sentence took an hour. The piece took five. The piece was what it needed to be.

The Capitol Hill apartment kitchen is small. We make it work.

James and I had date night Friday. Indian restaurant on 45th. We ate too much. We sat in the car after talking about nothing for an hour. The marriage is the marriage.

I texted Jisoo a photo of the kimchi in the new onggi pot. She replied with the thumb-up emoji and a Korean-language critique. The duality is the gift.

The kimchi crock was bubbling Saturday morning when I checked. The bubbling is the right bubbling. The fermentation knew what it was doing.

My Korean is improving. Slowly. Painfully. Conversationally adequate now. I can argue about kimchi proportions in two languages, which is a milestone in any marriage between mother and daughter.

Yoga Tuesday morning at the studio. The forward fold released something I had been carrying in the shoulder. The mat is the mat.

I made coffee at seven. Hana ate cereal at seven-fifteen. Min wandered down at seven-twenty-five. James left for work at eight. The morning was the morning. The standard.

Rain on the porch all afternoon Saturday. The Wallingford rain is its own weather. I sat with a book and a tea and did not move for two hours.

We always buy too much at the farmers market, and we are never sorry about it. After Sunday’s haul — the kabocha, the shishitos, whatever else caught our eye at the Asian vendor’s stall — I wanted something that honored all of it without fuss, something that let the color do the talking the way a good bowl of bibimbap does. This salad is that. It is the farmers market, arranged.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 cups purple cabbage, thinly shredded
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
1 yellow bell pepper, thinly sliced
1 cup carrots, julienned or shredded
1 cup shelled edamame, thawed if frozen
1/2 English cucumber, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced
4 shishito peppers, thinly sliced (seeds removed if preferred)
3 green onions, thinly sliced on the diagonal
2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon soy sauce or tamari
1 teaspoon honey
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, finely grated
1 small garlic clove, finely grated
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Instructions

Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the rice vinegar, sesame oil, soy sauce, honey, grated ginger, and garlic until fully combined. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.
Prep the vegetables. Shred the cabbage, julienne or shred the carrots, thinly slice the bell peppers, cucumber, shishitos, and green onions. Collect everything in a large mixing bowl.
Add the edamame. Scatter the shelled edamame over the vegetables in the bowl.
Dress and toss. Pour the dressing over the vegetables. Toss gently but thoroughly until everything is evenly coated. Taste and adjust with a pinch more salt or a small splash of rice vinegar if needed.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl or platter. Scatter the toasted sesame seeds and remaining green onion over the top. Serve immediately at room temperature, or refrigerate for up to one hour before serving — the cabbage holds its crunch well.

Nutrition (per serving)

Colorful Vegetable Salad — What the Farmers Market Knew