Everyday Sesame Asian Slaw

Halloween costumes at the Filipino Community Pageant. Pete and I worked the night shift Friday. We talked between codes about the kids — his daughter's wedding planning, my sister's pregnancy. The talking was the keeping.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Joseph called from Kodiak Sunday. The fishing is good. The boats are running. He is fine.

I made lechon kawali Saturday. The pork belly, the brining, the deep fry, the crackle. The kitchen smelled of hot oil for two days.

I skipped the blog this week. Some weeks the kitchen is enough.

Angela came over Saturday with the kids. We cooked. We argued about pancit proportions — she uses more soy, I use more calamansi. We are both wrong, according to Lourdes.

The week was ordinary. The ordinary is the point now. The ordinary is the keeping.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

The therapy session this month was about pacing. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The pacing is the love for the future self." I am working on the pacing. The pacing is harder than the loving.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

The lechon kawali was the centerpiece — the pork belly brined, deep-fried, crackling loud — but a plate that rich needs something that talks back to it. This sesame slaw is what I put on the table alongside it that Saturday with Angela and the kids: cold, sharp with rice vinegar, bright with sesame, done in fifteen minutes while the oil was still cooling. It is not a Filipino recipe by name, but it belongs at that table. The calamansi argument can wait — this slaw does not need arbitration.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 25 min (includes 10 min rest) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 cups shredded green cabbage
1 cup shredded purple cabbage
1 cup shredded carrots (about 2 medium carrots)
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
1/4 cup roasted salted edamame or shelled fresh edamame
2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds
3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon low-sodium soy sauce
1 tablespoon honey or pure maple syrup
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, finely grated
1 small garlic clove, finely minced
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the sesame oil, rice vinegar, soy sauce, honey, grated ginger, and garlic until fully combined. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Set aside.
Prep the slaw base. In a large mixing bowl, combine the green cabbage, purple cabbage, shredded carrots, and green onions. Toss to distribute evenly.
Dress and toss. Pour the dressing over the slaw and toss thoroughly so every strand is coated. Add the cilantro and edamame and toss once more.
Rest before serving. Let the slaw sit at room temperature for 10 minutes before serving — this softens the cabbage slightly and lets the flavors settle into each other. Do not skip this step.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl or platter. Scatter the toasted sesame seeds over the top. Serve immediately alongside lechon kawali, grilled proteins, or as a standalone lunch.

Nutrition (per serving)

Everyday Sesame Asian Slaw — The Side Dish That Earns Its Place Next to Lechon Kawali