July. The fireweed is climbing — halfway up the stalk now, the natural clock of Alaskan summer marking its midpoint. The summit celebrations are everywhere: Fourth of July parties (attended, briefly, with Angela and James — Angela enormous at seven months, James managing her comfort with the precision of a man who has read every pregnancy book in the Anchorage library system), the Solstice Festival (missed, working), and the general Alaskan determination to spend every possible minute outside because the outside minutes are finite and the inside months are infinite.
I grilled salmon on the balcony — Joseph's salmon, always Joseph's salmon, the Kodiak catch that arrives in coolers like dispatches from the front lines of the fishing industry. The salmon was sockeye, blood-red, the flesh so rich it barely needed seasoning — just salt, just heat, just the willingness to let the fish be what it is. I grilled it at 10 PM in full daylight and ate it with garlic rice and a beer and the evening was infinite and the light was golden and I was alone and the alone was not lonely, the alone was free, the alone was a woman on a balcony eating salmon in the midnight sun and needing nothing except what she had.
Lourdes leaves for San Diego next week. The luggage is packed — one suitcase, one lumpia cooler (six hundred lumpia, confirmed, plus a secondary cooler of frozen adobo and sinigang that is technically not allowed through TSA but which Lourdes will navigate with the confidence of a woman who has never let a regulation stand between her and her grandchildren's nutrition). I've agreed to water her plants and check the Mountain View house while she's gone. The house without Lourdes will be the quietest place in Anchorage. The kitchen without Lourdes will be a museum — every pot in its place, every jar aligned, the Datu Puti on the counter like a sentinel, waiting for her return.
That balcony salmon — the kind so good it only wants salt and fire — deserved something alongside it that matched its simplicity without competing with it. This ginger-sesame steamed vegetable salad is what I wish I’d had ready that night: clean, bright, a little electric from the ginger, the kind of thing that feels like summer in a bowl. It’s the perfect companion for fish that doesn’t need to be saved, just celebrated.
Ginger-Sesame Steamed Vegetable Salad
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cups broccoli florets
- 1 cup sugar snap peas, trimmed
- 1 cup shredded red cabbage
- 1 medium carrot, julienned
- 1 cup edamame, shelled (fresh or thawed frozen)
- 2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
- 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
- 1 tablespoon sesame oil
- 1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon honey
- 1 tablespoon sesame seeds, toasted
- 2 green onions, thinly sliced
Instructions
- Steam the vegetables. Place broccoli, snap peas, and carrot in a steamer basket over boiling water. Cover and steam for 5–7 minutes, until just tender but still bright. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, grated ginger, minced garlic, and honey until well combined.
- Combine. In a large bowl, toss the steamed vegetables with the red cabbage and edamame. Pour the dressing over and toss gently to coat everything evenly.
- Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl or plate. Top with toasted sesame seeds and sliced green onions. Serve warm or at room temperature alongside grilled fish or rice.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 148 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 16g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 320mg