Thai-Style Chicken and Quinoa Salad

Dr. Reeves started me on sertraline this week. Officially. I'd been on a trial since November, but this is the formalization — the prescription that says "refill indefinitely," the acknowledgment that this is not temporary. The medication is part of me now, the way the cooking is part of me, the way the therapy is part of me. I am a woman held together by chemistry and vinegar and twice-weekly conversations with a woman who doesn't flinch when I describe the things I've seen.

I'm not ashamed of the medication. I want to be clear about that. I'm tired — tired of needing it, tired of the side effects (the morning grogginess, the slight emotional blunting that makes joy quieter), tired of being the kind of person who needs pharmaceutical assistance to function. But I'm not ashamed. Shame requires the belief that you should be different, and I've learned — slowly, painfully, on a kitchen floor — that "should be" is a violence we commit against ourselves. I am what I am. I am a nurse with PTSD on sertraline who cooks adobo at midnight. The world can deal with it.

I wrote a blog post that doesn't mention any of this. "Pork Sinigang: The Soup That Argues With You." It's about the sourness of tamarind — how it surprises Western palates, how it's an acquired taste, how the sourness is the point. Sinigang is not gentle. Sinigang is not soothing. Sinigang is aggressive in its sourness the way Filipino mothers are aggressive in their love — it pushes against you, demands a reaction, won't let you sit passively with your bowl. You have to engage. You have to taste. You have to decide: do I like this or not? And most people, once they decide, love it with the fervor of a convert.

The metaphor writes itself and I let it because sometimes the metaphor is the meal and the meal is the metaphor and the distinction doesn't matter. The sinigang is sour. The medication is necessary. The February darkness is lifting, slowly — seven hours of light now, up from five. The light is winning. The light always wins, in Alaska. You just have to count the minutes.

I cooked the sinigang with extra tamarind. One more squeeze than I thought I needed. Reynaldo's rule. The rule that applies to tamarind and love and patience and the particular stubbornness required to survive an Alaskan February with PTSD and a dead father and a prescription that says "refill indefinitely." One more squeeze. Always one more.

The sinigang is Reynaldo’s recipe, and I keep it close in a way I’m not ready to share in full yet — not publicly, not with measurements that feel too much like handing something sacred to strangers. But the philosophy of it, the one more squeeze of acid that makes everything sharper and more alive, bleeds into everything I cook. This Thai-style chicken and quinoa salad is what I make when I need that same brightness but want something I can eat cold at 2 a.m. out of a takeout container, standing at the kitchen counter in my scrubs, the lime dressing doing the same work the tamarind does: waking me up, demanding that I taste, refusing to let me be passive about my own hunger.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 cup quinoa, rinsed
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1 lb)
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 cups shredded purple cabbage
1 cup shredded carrots
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
1/4 cup dry-roasted peanuts, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon sesame seeds
For the peanut-lime dressing:
3 tablespoons natural peanut butter
2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes — one more squeeze than you think you need)
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, finely grated
1 garlic clove, minced
2 to 3 tablespoons warm water, to thin

Instructions

Cook the quinoa. Combine rinsed quinoa and chicken broth in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes until liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat, fluff with a fork, and spread on a baking sheet to cool to room temperature.
Cook the chicken. Season chicken breasts with salt and pepper. Heat a grill pan or skillet over medium-high heat with a light coating of oil. Cook chicken 6 to 7 minutes per side until cooked through and internal temperature reaches 165°F. Let rest 5 minutes, then slice thin or shred with two forks.
Make the dressing. Whisk together peanut butter, soy sauce, lime juice, honey, rice vinegar, sesame oil, ginger, and garlic in a small bowl until smooth. Add warm water one tablespoon at a time until the dressing is pourable but still has body. Taste and adjust lime or soy sauce as needed — it should be tangy enough to surprise you.
Build the salad. In a large bowl, combine cooled quinoa, purple cabbage, carrots, red bell pepper, and green onions. Add sliced or shredded chicken and toss gently to distribute.
Dress and finish. Pour dressing over the salad and toss until everything is well coated. Top with cilantro, chopped peanuts, and sesame seeds. Serve immediately, or refrigerate up to 3 days (store dressing separately if making ahead).

Nutrition (per serving)

Thai-Style Chicken and Quinoa Salad — One More Squeeze