August approaching and I have school prep starting in my peripheral vision, which I refuse to look at directly until August 1st. A rule I have made for myself: July belongs to summer. July is for the farmers market and the balcony and the slow cooking projects that do not fit in the school year. August is for IEP review and classroom planning. There is a line and I honor it because if I do not, the school year never ends and the summer never starts and I will burn out by October, which I know because I have seen it happen and felt the early edges of it.
I made a whole stuffed zucchini this week, because the balcony plant (a new addition this summer, third container) has been producing enormous zucchini that Ryan keeps describing as "a problem" and I keep describing as "opportunity." Halved, scooped, filled with a mixture of the scooped zucchini flesh, ground pork, rice, herbs, tomato, baked until golden. It is essentially gołąbki principles applied to a zucchini, which Babcia Rose would probably have opinions about and which tasted exactly right. Served two for dinner with bread. Cost about six dollars.
We went to a concert this week — outdoors, fully vaccinated crowd — and it was the first live music either of us had been to in almost a year and a half. A band I have liked since college, the specific sound of a real crowd, the kind of warm-bodied presence you forget you are missing until you are back in it. Ryan and I stood in the crowd and I kept noticing how many people were there and how ordinary and extraordinary that was at once.
One more month of summer. I am eating every day of it. I am planting things and cooking them and writing about it and being married to a person who woke me up about a pepper and I am going to remember August the way you remember something you knew you were lucky to have while you had it.
The stuffed zucchini I made this week had golabki in its bones — cabbage-roll logic, just wearing different clothes — and it left me thinking about Babcia Rose and the way those flavors live together: cabbage, sweet pepper, something bright and a little sharp to cut through the richness. This slaw is the lighter, faster companion to that whole project, the thing you make while the zucchini is in the oven and Ryan is somewhere describing your garden as “a problem.” It uses the sweet peppers that have been appearing at the market all month, it comes together in minutes, and it tastes exactly like July should taste before August gets its say.
Sweet Pepper Cabbage Slaw
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 4 cups green cabbage, thinly shredded
- 1 cup red cabbage, thinly shredded
- 2 sweet bell peppers (red, yellow, or orange), thinly sliced into matchsticks
- 1/2 cup shredded carrots
- 3 green onions, thinly sliced
- 3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 tablespoon honey
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1/2 teaspoon celery seed
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Prep the vegetables. Thinly shred both cabbages and place in a large mixing bowl. Slice sweet peppers into thin matchsticks and add to the bowl along with the shredded carrots and sliced green onions.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the apple cider vinegar, olive oil, honey, Dijon mustard, celery seed, salt, and black pepper until well combined.
- Dress the slaw. Pour the dressing over the vegetable mixture and toss thoroughly to coat. Taste and adjust salt or vinegar as needed.
- Rest and serve. Let the slaw sit for at least 10 minutes at room temperature before serving to allow the flavors to meld and the cabbage to soften slightly. Serve immediately or refrigerate for up to two days — it holds well and the flavor deepens overnight.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 85 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg