Horseradish Coleslaw

June. Summer. The garden is in: tomatoes, peppers, beans, squash, herbs. The same things I plant every year. The same things Betty plants. The same things that grow regardless of what's happening in the world — regardless of deployments and graduations and weddings and the particular anxiety of a man who checks his phone seventeen times a day for news that he hopes never comes.

Clay's last letter was upbeat. He said the patrols are routine (that word again — routine in Afghanistan, where routine includes body armor and loaded weapons and the awareness that every pile of roadside trash might be an IED). He said Rodriguez got promoted. He said the chow hall attempted fried chicken and "it was an insult to Betty's legacy and I told them so." He said he's fine. Fine. The word soldiers use when they don't want to worry you and when the real answer is too complicated for a letter.

Amber came over for dinner on Sunday. She's settling into the nursing job — long shifts, steep learning curve, the specific exhaustion of a woman who spends twelve hours on her feet caring for people who can't care for themselves. She looks thinner. I made fried chicken. I will make fried chicken every time Amber comes over until she gains the weight back or asks me to stop, whichever comes first. The chicken is medicine. The chicken is the Hensley healthcare plan.

This week's recipe: buttermilk fried okra. Summer food. Appalachian food. Polarizing food — people either love okra or hate it, and the people who hate it have never had it fried properly. Betty's method: slice the okra into half-inch rounds. Soak in buttermilk for thirty minutes. Dredge in cornmeal seasoned with salt, pepper, and a pinch of cayenne. Fry in an inch of oil at 350 until golden brown, about three minutes. Drain on paper. Eat hot.

Fried okra done right is not slimy. The slime is in the raw okra — cut it and the mucilage oozes out. But the buttermilk soak and the cornmeal coating and the high heat of the frying oil seal it in, transform it, turn the slime into a soft interior wrapped in a crispy cornmeal shell. It's one of those foods where the technique overcomes the ingredient's worst quality and reveals its best. Kind of like people. Kind of like Hensleys.

Betty never put fried okra on the table alone — there was always something cool beside it, something to cut the heat and the richness, something to remind you that summer is about contrast as much as anything else. This horseradish coleslaw is that dish: cold where the okra is hot, creamy where the cornmeal is crisp, with just enough bite from the horseradish to keep your attention. Amber had two helpings. That’s the Hensley healthcare plan working.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min (plus 30 min chill) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 small head green cabbage, finely shredded (about 6 cups)
1 medium carrot, peeled and grated
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
1/2 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons prepared horseradish (or more to taste)
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Shred the vegetables. Finely shred the cabbage using a sharp knife or mandoline. Grate the carrot on the large holes of a box grater. Dice the red onion finely. Combine all three in a large mixing bowl.
Make the dressing. In a separate bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, prepared horseradish, apple cider vinegar, sugar, Dijon mustard, celery seed, salt, and black pepper until smooth and fully combined. Taste and adjust horseradish up or down depending on how much heat you want.
Combine. Pour the dressing over the shredded cabbage mixture and toss thoroughly until every strand is coated. Don’t be shy — get in there with your hands or tongs and make sure the dressing reaches the bottom of the bowl.
Chill. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving. The cabbage will soften slightly and the flavors will come together. An hour is better. Two hours is best.
Serve cold. Toss once more before plating. This coleslaw is meant to be cold — serve it straight from the refrigerator alongside anything hot and fried.

Nutrition (per serving)

Horseradish Coleslaw — The Cool Side of a Hot Summer Table