Turnip Slaw — The Younger Flavor, Less Aggressive

Mt Rainier visible all week. Locals call this rare. Amazon this week. Sprint planning Tuesday. Two hours of meetings I could have been a Slack message.

Hana, 1, a small loud animal. She mostly eats rice and bananas. Jisoo FaceTimed Tuesday. We made doenjang jjigae together — me in Wallingford, her in Haeundae. Eleven thousand miles. The same soup.

Made spring kimchi this week. Younger flavor, less aggressive. The summer batch will be different.

Drove to Bellevue Saturday. Karen was tired. I brought soft food. She ate.

James fell asleep on the couch with the kids climbing on him. The household was the household.

My Korean is improving. Slowly. Painfully. Conversationally adequate now. I can argue about kimchi proportions in two languages, which is a milestone in any marriage between mother and daughter.

Jisoo sent a photo of the dol the kids did for our visit last summer. The photo went on the fridge.

James and I had date night Friday. Indian restaurant on 45th. We ate too much. We sat in the car after talking about nothing for an hour. The marriage is the marriage.

The kimchi crock was bubbling Saturday morning when I checked. The bubbling is the right bubbling. The fermentation knew what it was doing.

I made coffee at seven. Hana ate cereal at seven-fifteen. Min wandered down at seven-twenty-five. James left for work at eight. The morning was the morning. The standard.

The shiso on the south fence is fragrant and unruly. I brushed past it taking the compost out and the smell stopped me. The smell is the country. The smell is Jisoo's apartment.

Therapy Tuesday with Dr. Kim. We talked about the parents — the two sets, the one living, the one gone, the one who became real after thirty years and the one who was real my whole life and is now gone. The work is the layered work.

The Capitol Hill apartment kitchen is small. We make it work.

Rain on the porch all afternoon Saturday. The Wallingford rain is its own weather. I sat with a book and a tea and did not move for two hours.

David came over for Sunday dinner. He brought some tomatoes from the Bellevue garden.

I texted Jisoo a photo of the kimchi in the new onggi pot. She replied with the thumb-up emoji and a Korean-language critique. The duality is the gift.

Sunday farmers market on Wallingford Avenue. The kabocha at the Asian vendor's stall. The shishito peppers. The brokered conversation. We bought too much. We always do.

I sat at the kitchen counter at six AM with a notebook and a cup of green tea. Writing time before the house wakes. The pre-light hour is the only writing hour I trust.

Reading at night. A novel by a Korean-American writer about a family in 1990s LA. I underlined four sentences. The underlining is the marking-of-the-territory of the soul.

Yoga Tuesday morning at the studio. The forward fold released something I had been carrying in the shoulder. The mat is the mat.

Sprint review at Amazon Friday. Two hours. I could have been on a podcast.

Hana left a Lego on the kitchen floor. I stepped on it at two AM. Standard.

The newsletter went out Sunday morning. The opening sentence took an hour. The piece took five. The piece was what it needed to be.

A blog reader wrote about her own adoptee experience. We exchanged three emails this week.

I read a thread on the Korean Adoptee subreddit Saturday. Some posts brought up old anger. Most are people figuring it out in real time. We are not unique. We are a community.

The spring kimchi I made this week — bubbling correctly in the onggi pot by Saturday morning, critiqued in two languages by Jisoo via text — reminded me that not everything fermented needs months of patience. Sometimes the younger flavor is exactly the right one. This turnip slaw is the weeknight version of that instinct: raw, sharp, a little sweet, with the same satisfying crunch I reach for when I need the table to feel grounded without the crock being involved. I made it for Sunday dinner with David and it disappeared quietly, the way the best food does.

Turnip Slaw

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 lb turnips, peeled and julienned or coarsely grated
• 1 medium carrot, peeled and julienned
• 3 green onions, thinly sliced
• 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
• 1 tablespoon sesame oil
• 1 teaspoon soy sauce
• 1 teaspoon honey or sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
• 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
• Salt to taste

Instructions

1. Prep the vegetables. Peel and julienne (or coarsely grate) the turnips and carrot. Place them in a large mixing bowl with the sliced green onions.
2. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the rice vinegar, sesame oil, soy sauce, honey, grated ginger, and red pepper flakes until combined.
3. Toss and season. Pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss well to coat. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Let sit for 5 minutes so the turnips soften slightly and absorb the dressing.
4. Finish and serve. Sprinkle toasted sesame seeds over the top. Serve immediately for maximum crunch, or refrigerate up to 2 days — the flavor deepens overnight.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 85 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 210mg