Confetti Beet Salad

Stephanie takes two-year-old Hana to Busan. Jisoo meets Hana in person for the first time. Jisoo holds Hana and says nothing for a long time, just looks at her. Then she says, in Korean, "She has your hands." They spend ten days together. Jisoo teaches Hana the Korean word for gr

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

The Sunday market on Wallingford Avenue keeps giving me more than I came for — this week it was beets, brilliant and unreasonable in quantity, sitting next to the shishitos in the Asian vendor’s stall. The kimchi crock was already doing its work on the counter, so I didn’t need another ferment; I needed something that honored the same instinct — the one Jisoo modeled for me, the one that says: when the vegetable is beautiful and the season is right, you stop and you make something. This Confetti Beet Salad is that something. It’s spring on a plate, and it asked almost nothing of me except attention.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

3 medium beets, mixed colors (red, golden, chioggia if available), scrubbed
1 tablespoon olive oil, plus more for roasting
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup thinly sliced green onions
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons fresh dill, roughly chopped
1/3 cup crumbled feta or goat cheese (optional)
3 tablespoons toasted sunflower seeds or pepitas

Instructions

Roast the beets. Preheat oven to 400°F. Wrap each beet loosely in foil with a drizzle of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Roast on a baking sheet for 40–45 minutes, until a knife slides through easily. Let cool.
Peel and dice. Once cool enough to handle, rub the skins off the beets with a paper towel. Dice into 1/2-inch cubes. Keep colors separate briefly if using mixed beets to prevent bleeding before serving.
Make the dressing. Whisk together apple cider vinegar, honey, Dijon mustard, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in a small bowl. Slowly whisk in 3 tablespoons olive oil until emulsified.
Combine. Toss beets gently with the dressing in a large bowl. Fold in green onions, parsley, and dill. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving plate. Scatter feta or goat cheese over the top if using, then finish with toasted seeds. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled.

Nutrition (per serving)

Confetti Beet Salad — The Colors of What the Farmers Market Gave Us