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Roasted Veggie Wrap — The Everything-Together Method, Wrapped Up for Spring

Tax season. James filed our taxes this week, which required him to account for two W-2s (Amazon and Microsoft), one small business (Banchan Labs), and the particular complexity of a married couple who both work in tech and also run a Korean meal kit company. He sat at the kitchen table with TurboTax and a look of focused misery and said, "We owe. We owe a lot." I said, "How much is a lot?" He showed me the number. I sat down. The number was large. The number was the cost of two tech salaries and a growing business and the American tax system's deep confusion about what to do with people who are simultaneously employed and self-employed. We paid it. We paid it and moved on. James said, "This is the last year with two tech salaries." I said, "Next year the taxes will be simpler." He said, "Next year the taxes will be terrifying for different reasons." He is right. The transition from two-income to one-income-plus-a-startup is a financial cliff. We are aware of the cliff. We are jumping anyway.

Hana is four months old next week and she has discovered her voice — not words, but sounds. Vowels, mostly. Long "aaah"s and surprised "ooh"s and one sound that James calls "the pterodactyl" which is a high-pitched shriek of delight that she produces when she sees the ceiling fan. The ceiling fan fascination continues. She is Karen's granddaughter in this specific way: she stares at things with analytical focus until she understands them, and the ceiling fan is her first engineering problem.

I drove to Bellevue on Wednesday with Hana. Karen held her in the living room. Karen's Parkinson's tremor was pronounced today — her whole left hand shaking, the medicine not quite managing. But she held Hana with both hands, the shaking hands wrapped around the baby, and she sang — she sang a lullaby I recognized from childhood, "You Are My Sunshine," in her trembling voice, and Hana looked at Karen's face with her serious dark eyes and did not look away. Hana did not look away. She watched Karen sing for three minutes, and I stood in the doorway and I did not breathe because the moment was too perfect and too fragile and I was afraid that breathing would break it. It did not break. Karen sang. Hana watched. The afternoon light came through the window. I took a photo with my phone. I will keep this photo forever. It is the photo of a grandmother singing to a granddaughter with shaking hands, and the granddaughter is listening, and the listening is love.

The recipe this week is a spring namul plate — three seasonal vegetable side dishes served together over rice. Seasoned spinach, seasoned bean sprouts, and seasoned fernbrake (gosari). Each blanched, squeezed, and seasoned separately with soy sauce, sesame oil, garlic, sesame seeds. Arranged in sections on a plate over warm rice. Eat by mixing everything together — the bibimbap method, the everything-together method, the Korean method. The plate is green and brown and glistening with sesame oil and it looks like spring and it tastes like the kind of food that has been feeding Korean families for centuries and will feed mine.

The week James showed me that tax number, I needed food that felt like abundance without being precious about it — vegetables that were real and seasonal and generous, the kind of meal you make when the world is financially terrifying but the farmers market still exists and spring is still happening whether you owe money or not. And after standing in Karen’s doorway watching her sing to Hana with shaking hands, I wanted something I could make with my own hands, something that required tending. This roasted veggie wrap is that: a little effort, a lot of color, the satisfaction of pulling something bright and warm out of the oven and wrapping it up like a gift to yourself.

Roasted Veggie Wrap

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 medium zucchini, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
  • 1 red bell pepper, seeded and sliced
  • 1 yellow bell pepper, seeded and sliced
  • 1 cup broccoli florets
  • 1 medium red onion, sliced into thin wedges
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
  • 1/2 cup hummus
  • 1 cup baby spinach
  • 1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
  2. Season the vegetables. Toss zucchini, bell peppers, broccoli, and red onion with olive oil, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper until evenly coated.
  3. Roast. Spread vegetables in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Roast for 22–25 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until tender and lightly caramelized at the edges.
  4. Warm the tortillas. While vegetables finish roasting, warm tortillas one at a time in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 30 seconds per side, or wrap all four in a damp paper towel and microwave for 45 seconds.
  5. Assemble the wraps. Spread 2 tablespoons of hummus across the center of each tortilla. Layer with a handful of baby spinach, a generous portion of roasted vegetables, a sprinkle of feta, and a small squeeze of fresh lemon juice.
  6. Wrap and serve. Fold in the sides, then roll up tightly from the bottom. Slice in half on the diagonal and serve immediately, or wrap in foil for an easy packed lunch.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 10g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 46g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 520mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 422 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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