Herbed Quinoa and Pomegranate Salad

Rosh Hashanah 5778. The new year. The round challah. The honey cake. The apple dipped in sweetness and the prayer for sweetness and the table set with Sylvia's dishes and the family gathered around the food that has been gathering this family since before I was born. This is year two on the blog, and I approach the holiday differently now — not just as a cook and a hostess but as a writer who is documenting what the food means, who is translating the taste into words, who is keeping a record that Sylvia never kept because Sylvia cooked from memory and memory, unlike ink, does not survive the woman who carries it.

David led the prayers again. He is growing into this role the way men grow into their fathers' shoes: gradually, reluctantly, with the dawning realization that the shoes fit better than expected. Marvin stood beside him and said the blessings in his clear, steady voice, and the two of them — father and son, accountant and doctor, two men who express love through precision — recited the words together, and the room was full, and the food was ready, and I thought: this is what I was made for. Not the teaching, not the writing, though I love both. This. The table. The food. The people. The chain.

Ethan, three and a half, dipped his apple in honey with the gravity of a child who understands that something important is happening even if he cannot name it. Sophie, seventeen months, ate challah with both hands and the commitment of a person who has discovered the world's best food and sees no reason to eat it with anything less than total dedication. Rebecca came with Thomas, who is becoming a regular at the table, a man who eats brisket and asks questions about Judaism with the genuine curiosity of a scholar who respects traditions even when they are not his own. Marvin made the joke — the annual joke, the brisket joke, the one that gets the groan and the laugh — and the groan and the laugh were the same as every year, and the sameness was the blessing.

I wrote about tzimmes — the sweet carrot dish, the divisive dish, the dish that Marvin merely tolerates and I passionately love. I wrote about how tzimmes is the optimist's dish: it takes a root vegetable and makes it sweet, takes a thing that grows in darkness and fills it with honey and light. The metaphor writes itself. The tzimmes doesn't care about the metaphor. The tzimmes cares about the honey. The honey cares about the year. The year begins sweet. L'shanah tovah.

The tzimmes gets most of the attention at my table — and it should, it earns it — but the dish I keep coming back to in the days after the holiday, the one I find myself making again before the week is out, is this herbed quinoa and pomegranate salad. Pomegranate is one of the oldest simanim, the symbolic foods of Rosh Hashanah, eaten in the hope that our merits will be as plentiful as its seeds; there is something right about letting it shine in a dish of its own rather than tucking it away as garnish. If the tzimmes is the optimist’s dish, this salad is the celebrant’s dish — bright and abundant and unapologetically full of color, exactly the way I want the new year to begin.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups white quinoa, rinsed
2 3/4 cups water or low-sodium vegetable broth
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 cup pomegranate arils (from 1 large pomegranate)
1 English cucumber, diced small
4 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1/3 cup fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
1/4 cup fresh dill, roughly chopped
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 1/2 lemons)
1 teaspoon honey
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup toasted pepitas or slivered almonds (optional)

Instructions

Cook the quinoa. Combine the rinsed quinoa, water or broth, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a low simmer, cover, and cook for 15 minutes until the liquid is absorbed and the quinoa is tender. Remove from heat and let sit, covered, for 5 minutes.
Cool the quinoa. Spread the cooked quinoa onto a large rimmed baking sheet in an even layer and let cool to room temperature, about 10–15 minutes. This keeps the herbs bright and prevents wilting.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, honey, a pinch of salt, and black pepper until well combined.
Combine. Transfer the cooled quinoa to a large mixing bowl. Add the pomegranate arils, cucumber, green onions, parsley, mint, and dill. Pour the dressing over the top and toss gently until everything is evenly coated.
Taste and finish. Adjust seasoning with additional salt, lemon juice, or honey as needed. Transfer to a serving bowl and top with toasted pepitas or slivered almonds if using. Serve at room temperature or lightly chilled.

Nutrition (per serving)

Herbed Quinoa and Pomegranate Salad — The Table, the Chain, the Sweet New Year