Mango and Black Bean Quinoa Salad

The peak of summer and the farmers market is drowning in tomatoes. Every stall, every variety, every color from deep red to bright yellow to the striated green-and-purple of an heirloom that looks like it was painted by an impressionist. I bought six pounds on Sunday and spent the afternoon processing them — some for immediate eating, some roasted for pasta sauce, some sliced with shiso and soy sauce for the tomato-shiso salad that has become my signature summer dish.

I made heirloom tomato gazpacho with a Japanese twist — traditional gazpacho base, but finished with rice vinegar instead of sherry vinegar and topped with a drizzle of sesame oil and a chiffonade of shiso. The fusion sounds forced but it works — the rice vinegar brightens, the sesame oil adds depth, the shiso provides the herbal note that basil usually fills. I am getting bolder with my fusions. The blog readers encourage it. They want the bridge food, the neither-nor dishes that taste like my specific kitchen, not a Japanese kitchen and not an American kitchen but the kitchen of a mixed-race woman in Portland who cooks from two traditions and refuses to choose between them.

The writing course ended this week. My final essay — about Fumiko's kitchen, expanded and revised — received the highest marks in the class. The instructor said, "Submit this everywhere. Do not stop until someone says yes." I am glowing with the praise and terrified by the instruction in equal measure. Submit everywhere. Everywhere is a lot of places. Everywhere is a lot of rejection. But I will do it because the instructor said to and because the essay is good and because Fumiko's kitchen deserves to exist in print, not just in my memory and my blog.

Brian was supportive this week. He read the essay — the first time he has read anything I have written longer than a blog post — and he said, "This is really beautiful, Jen." He said it simply, without qualification, without the undertone of "but how does this make money," and I heard it and held it and chose to believe him. Sometimes the simplest words are the truest. Sometimes "this is beautiful" is everything you need to hear from the person you married.

The gazpacho was already gone by Tuesday — Brian took the last jar for lunch without asking, which I am choosing to read as a compliment — and I still had tomatoes on the counter and that hum of abundance that the farmers market always leaves behind. This mango and black bean quinoa salad is what came next: bright lime instead of rice vinegar, cilantro instead of shiso, but the same impulse driving it — take what you have, honor two flavor traditions at once, and don’t apologize for the combination. After a week of hearing “this is really beautiful” and actually letting myself believe it, this felt like exactly the right bowl to make.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 cup quinoa, rinsed well
2 cups water or vegetable broth
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 large ripe mango, peeled and diced (about 1 1/2 cups)
1 red bell pepper, diced small
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced (optional)
1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 avocado, sliced, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Cook the quinoa. Combine rinsed quinoa and water (or broth) in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a low simmer, cover, and cook for 13–15 minutes until the liquid is absorbed and the quinoa is fluffy. Remove from heat and let sit, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork and spread onto a sheet pan or wide bowl to cool to room temperature.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the lime juice, olive oil, cumin, salt, and pepper until combined. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Combine the salad. In a large bowl, add the cooled quinoa, black beans, mango, red bell pepper, red onion, and jalapeño if using. Pour the dressing over and toss gently until everything is evenly coated.
Add herbs and rest. Fold in the cilantro. Let the salad sit for at least 5 minutes before serving so the flavors can meld. Taste once more and add salt or lime as needed.
Serve. Transfer to a serving bowl or individual bowls. Top with sliced avocado if using. Serve at room temperature or chilled — both work beautifully.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mango and Black Bean Quinoa Salad — The Bridge-Food Summer Bowl