Pomegranate Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad

I have started meal prepping on Sundays, which is both a practical necessity and a tiny act of self-preservation. After the farmers market, while Miya naps, I spend two hours in the kitchen making food for the week: a pot of rice, a batch of miso soup base, pickled vegetables, some kind of grain or noodle salad, a protein I can reheat. It is the most organized I have ever been in my life, which is directly proportional to how chaotic everything else feels. When the world is uncontrollable, I control the contents of my refrigerator. This is not wisdom. This is anxiety wearing a chef's apron.

This week's prep included a big batch of Fumiko's kinpira gobo — braised burdock root and carrot, sliced thin, cooked in sesame oil with soy sauce, mirin, and a little chili. It is a side dish that keeps all week and gets better each day, the flavors deepening as the vegetables absorb the sauce. Burdock root is not easy to find outside of Japanese markets, but Uwajimaya has it, and I make the trip every other week specifically for ingredients that connect me to Fumiko's kitchen. The store smells like dashi and seaweed and rice, and walking through the aisles is a form of homecoming that I did not expect to need but desperately do.

Miya is trying to sit up. She props herself on her hands and wobbles and looks outraged when gravity wins, which is most of the time. Her determination is enormous — she has Ken's stubbornness already, that Nakamura refusal to accept that something cannot be done simply because it has not been done yet. She will sit up. She does not know when. She does not care. She tries and falls and tries again.

Brian mentioned couples therapy this week. He said it casually, the way you mention a restaurant you might try — "I heard this place is good, maybe we should check it out." I was surprised. Brian is not a therapy person. The fact that he suggested it means either things are worse than I thought or he is trying harder than I thought. Maybe both. I said yes. We start next month. I am hoping for the best and preparing, as always, for the catastrophe that my brain insists is coming. My brain is often wrong about catastrophes. But it never stops insisting.

The kinpira gobo is always the anchor of my Sunday prep—earthy and savory and deeply satisfying in that slow, patient way—but I’ve learned that one Japanese side dish does not a full refrigerator make. This pomegranate shaved Brussels sprouts salad has become its counterpart: bright where the kinpira is rich, a little tart where it’s savory, the kind of thing that looks like real effort but comes together in fifteen minutes while the rice is still on the stove. On weeks when I need to feel like I have something under control, having both of these containers lined up in the fridge on Sunday evening is, if not wisdom exactly, at least something close to peace.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs Brussels sprouts, trimmed and very thinly shaved or sliced on a mandoline
1 cup pomegranate arils (from 1 large pomegranate)
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/3 cup shaved or finely grated Parmesan
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon honey
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 small clove garlic, finely grated
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Toast the almonds. In a small dry skillet over medium heat, toast the sliced almonds, stirring frequently, until golden and fragrant, about 3–4 minutes. Transfer to a plate and let cool completely.
Shave the Brussels sprouts. Trim the stem end from each sprout and remove any yellowed outer leaves. Using a sharp knife or a mandoline set to 1/8 inch, shave the sprouts into thin ribbons. Transfer to a large mixing bowl and use your hands to separate any layers that are still stuck together.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, honey, Dijon mustard, grated garlic, salt, and pepper until emulsified.
Dress and rest. Pour the dressing over the shaved Brussels sprouts and toss well to coat. Let the dressed sprouts sit for at least 5 minutes—this softens them slightly and lets the flavors meld. For meal prep, you can stop here and refrigerate; add the toppings before serving.
Finish and serve. Add the pomegranate arils, toasted almonds, and shaved Parmesan. Toss gently to combine. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. Serve immediately or refrigerate—this salad holds well for up to 4 days; the sprouts continue to soften and the flavors deepen over time.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pomegranate Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad — The Other Half of a Good Sunday Prep