Holiday Rice Salad

June 2022. The end of Year Seven. The inventory: I am thirty-three. I have a niece (Mia, six months), twin nephew and niece (Marco and Sofia, thirteen months), a brother about to marry (Joseph), a sister married with a baby (Angela), another brother married with twins (Mark), and a mother (Lourdes, seventy-two, fierce, vinegar-calibrated, unstoppable). I am single. I am writing a book. I am working the ER and thinking about not working the ER and the thinking is getting louder. I am cooking. I am always cooking.

The summer is here. Twenty hours of light. The fireweed is at the base of the stalk. The salmon are running. Joseph's boat is on the water. The world outside my kitchen window is doing its Alaskan-summer thing: being so beautiful it hurts, so excessive it exhausts, so temporary it demands attention. I give it attention. I walk the trail. I grill salmon on the balcony. I write chapters at midnight in the light that won't end.

I made moose adobo to mark the end of the year. Pete's moose, from last fall's hunt. The recipe that is the thesis — the intersection, the impossible dish, the food that exists only because Reynaldo Santos crossed an ocean and met a moose and the meeting produced something unprecedented. The moose adobo is the book. The book is the moose adobo. The intersection is the story. The story is the standing up.

The garlic sizzled. The vinegar steamed. The moose braised. The light didn't set. The year ended. The standing continued.

The moose adobo was the thesis — but rice was always the page it was written on. Every adobo my mother Lourdes ever made, every pot that simmered with vinegar and garlic in whatever kitchen we happened to be occupying, landed on a mound of white rice. So when Year Seven closed and I needed something to bring to Angela’s table to feed the whole loud inventory of us — the niece, the twins, Joseph’s new fiancée, my mother with her opinions — I made this: a Holiday Rice Salad, cool and bright and abundant, the kind of dish that travels well and feeds a crowd without demanding anything from anyone. It is not the thesis. It is the celebration of the thesis. It is rice doing what rice does: holding everything together.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 40 min (plus 1 hr chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 cups long-grain white rice, uncooked
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
1/2 cup diced red bell pepper
1/2 cup diced green bell pepper
1/2 cup diced orange bell pepper
1/3 cup finely diced red onion
1/2 cup sliced black olives
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
2/3 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder

Instructions

Cook the rice. Cook rice according to package directions. Spread onto a large rimmed baking sheet and allow to cool completely to room temperature, about 30 minutes. Do not skip this step — warm rice will make the dressing oily and the salad heavy.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, apple cider vinegar, olive oil, sugar, salt, black pepper, and garlic powder until smooth and fully combined. Taste and adjust salt if needed.
Combine the salad. In a large mixing bowl, combine the cooled rice, peas, red bell pepper, green bell pepper, orange bell pepper, red onion, black olives, and parsley. Toss gently to distribute evenly.
Dress and fold. Pour the dressing over the rice mixture. Using a large spoon or spatula, fold everything together until the rice is evenly coated. Take care not to mash the rice — fold with a light hand.
Chill. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. This allows the flavors to meld and the dressing to absorb into the rice.
Serve. Stir gently before serving and taste for seasoning. Garnish with additional fresh parsley if desired. Serve cold or at cool room temperature. The salad keeps well covered in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Holiday Rice Salad — The Intersection, the Standing Continuing