Northwoods Wild Rice Salad

New Year's Eve. Sixth annual black-eyed peas. Seven at the table plus Curtis. The tradition. The peas. The midnight kiss. The children groaning. Zoe covering her eyes. Isaiah pretending not to watch. Marcus timing the kiss (twelve seconds, he announced; the family applauded; Derek and I were mortified and delighted). The year turned. 2022. The year that will bring: Curtis's stroke (I don't know this yet), Marcus's college prep (I do know this), the cookbook's publication (I hope for this), and the continued, daily, unremarkable practice of setting the table and cooking dinner and being a family that was built from grief and love and the absolute refusal to let the kitchen go dark.

I made the black-eyed peas at 11:45. Mama's recipe. Sixth time. The tradition is so established now that the kids help without being asked: Marcus chops the onion. Jasmine measures the rice. Isaiah stirs the pot. Zoe sets the table. Derek brings me coffee (at 11:30 PM; the man brings coffee at all hours; the coffee is love regardless of the clock). Curtis eats from his chair. Seven people and a tradition and a recipe and a can of spice and a line that runs from rural Alabama through Cascade Heights through a church kitchen through a marriage through a pandemic through a house through this table, this night, this meal.

I said, "Happy New Year, Mama," to the kitchen. The kitchen said nothing back. But the Folgers can caught the light from the tree and glowed, briefly, and the glowing was enough.

Every New Year’s Eve, it’s the rice that grounds me — Jasmine measuring it out, the sound of it hitting the pot, the way the whole dish comes together in the last fifteen minutes of the year like it was always going to. This Northwoods Wild Rice Salad is the recipe I reach for when I want to carry that same feeling into other seasons: earthy, substantial, made for a table with more people around it than chairs. It’s not Mama’s exact recipe, but it speaks the same language — whole grains, gathered family, a bowl that means something.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 cups wild rice blend, rinsed
4 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/2 cup toasted pecans, roughly chopped
1/3 cup red onion, finely diced
2 stalks celery, thinly sliced
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Cook the rice. Combine wild rice blend and broth in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a low simmer. Cover and cook 40—45 minutes, until the rice is tender and most of the liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork and spread on a sheet pan to cool slightly.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together olive oil, apple cider vinegar, honey, Dijon mustard, garlic powder, salt, and pepper until emulsified. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Combine the salad. Transfer the warm (not hot) rice to a large serving bowl. Add the red onion, celery, dried cranberries, and toasted pecans. Pour the dressing over the top and toss gently to coat everything evenly.
Finish and rest. Fold in the fresh parsley. Let the salad sit for at least 10 minutes before serving so the flavors can meld. Serve warm, at room temperature, or chilled — it holds well for hours on a holiday table.
Store leftovers. Refrigerate in an airtight container for up to 4 days. If serving cold from the fridge, drizzle with a little extra olive oil and a splash of vinegar to refresh.

Nutrition (per serving)

Northwoods Wild Rice Salad — The Pot We Stir Together Every New Year