Quinoa Broccoli Slaw with Honey-Mustard Dressing

Spring arrived this week like an apology for winter — cherry blossoms on every block in Capitol Hill, the sudden green of everything, the way Seattle in April is the city's best argument for itself. I walked to the grocery store on Saturday through Volunteer Park and the cherry trees were so full of blossoms that the sidewalk looked like it had been carpeted in pink tissue paper. I thought about the first April I walked this same route, seven years ago, newly arrived at Amazon, still eating takeout, still unknowing. The blossoms were the same then. I was not.

Banchan Labs: Box Three shipped April 3. 1,200 boxes. The largest shipment yet. Grace and Mina and Tess and I packed from 6 AM to 3 PM on Monday. James ran the logistics — labels, manifests, carrier pickups. By 4 PM the truck had taken all 1,200 boxes. I stood on the loading dock and did not cry this time. I was too tired to cry. Grace handed me a rice ball she had made that morning and said, "Eat. Then go home." I ate the rice ball on the loading dock. It was filled with tuna mayo. It was perfect. Grace's rice balls are always perfect.

The reviews from Box Two continue to come in. A woman in Houston wrote to say she made the kimchi with her Korean-adopted daughter and they both cried. A man in Chicago wrote to say he hadn't cooked Korean food since his halmeoni died in 2019 and the box brought her back. A college student in Ann Arbor wrote to say she was Korean-American and had never made kimchi before and the recipe card made her feel like she had permission. I read every email. I answer every email. James says I need to hire someone for customer service before I burn out. He is right. I am not hiring someone yet because the emails are the best part. The emails are why I started this.

Karen had a good week. Physical therapy twice. She walked around the block with David on Thursday — the first time she'd walked the full block since the diagnosis. She called me after, out of breath but proud. She said, "I did it." I said, "I know you did." She said, "Don't get used to it. Tomorrow I might not." I said, "Then I'll celebrate today." She laughed. It was a real laugh. I held onto it all week.

James and I are in month two of trying. Nothing yet. Which is normal, I remind myself. I remind myself six times a day. The internet says it can take six months to a year for healthy couples. I am thirty next month. James is thirty-one. We are healthy. We are patient. We are also the kind of people who refresh the fertility tracking app every morning like it's a stock ticker, which is not patient behavior, but we are trying.

Jisoo sent a recipe this week — a spring kimchi with young radish greens that she has been developing. She wrote the instructions in Korean with Romanization, and I translated them myself, which took three hours and made me feel accomplished in a way that no Amazon sprint review has ever made me feel. The kimchi is fermenting in my kitchen now. It will be ready in four days. I will report back.

The recipe this week is Jisoo's spring radish green kimchi. Young radish greens (or turnip greens), salted for two hours, rinsed, drained. The paste: gochugaru, fish sauce, minced garlic, minced ginger, a spoonful of rice flour paste, sliced scallions, a small amount of sugar. Mix the paste into the greens by hand. Pack into a jar. Leave at room temperature for one day, then refrigerate. Wait three days. Open. The smell will be sharp and green and alive. This is the kimchi of early spring in Busan. This is the kimchi my birth mother developed this year, in her kitchen, for me. The thread continues.

While Jisoo’s radish green kimchi sits in my kitchen counting down its four days, I’ve been reaching for other green things — anything that tastes like this particular April, like cherry blossoms and new starts and the specific relief of a truck pulling away from a loading dock with 1,200 boxes on it. This quinoa broccoli slaw has been my week: it’s the kind of recipe that rewards patience with crunch, that gets better the longer it sits, that is humble and bright and quietly satisfying. Grace would approve. It’s the kind of thing you can eat on a loading dock.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 cup dry quinoa, rinsed
2 cups water
3 cups broccoli slaw mix (shredded broccoli stems and carrots)
1 cup shredded red cabbage
3 scallions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup roasted sunflower seeds
1/4 cup dried cranberries
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Cook the quinoa. Combine quinoa and water in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 13–15 minutes until water is absorbed and quinoa is fluffy. Remove from heat, fluff with a fork, and spread onto a sheet pan to cool completely, about 10 minutes.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the Dijon mustard, honey, apple cider vinegar, olive oil, garlic powder, salt, and pepper until smooth and emulsified. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Assemble the slaw. In a large mixing bowl, combine the cooled quinoa, broccoli slaw mix, shredded red cabbage, and scallions. Toss to distribute evenly.
Dress and finish. Pour the honey-mustard dressing over the slaw and toss thoroughly until everything is well coated. Fold in the sunflower seeds and dried cranberries.
Rest and serve. Let the slaw sit for at least 5 minutes before serving so the flavors meld. For best results, refrigerate for 30 minutes before serving. The slaw keeps well covered in the refrigerator for up to 3 days — the texture holds beautifully.

Nutrition (per serving)

Quinoa Broccoli Slaw with Honey-Mustard Dressing — The Green That Keeps Growing