Vegetarian Lox — What We Bring to the Table When We Show Up

Seattle summer — the season we earn through the rest of the year. Amazon this week. Sprint planning Tuesday. Two hours of meetings I could have been a Slack message.

Hana, 2, on a step stool stirring miso into broth. She knows the order. She is bilingual already in food vocabulary. Jisoo FaceTimed Tuesday. We made doenjang jjigae together — me in Wallingford, her in Haeundae. Eleven thousand miles. The same soup.

Kimbap Saturday for the picnic. The seaweed-rice rolls. Hana helped.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

Kimbap Saturday ended up being a longer afternoon than I planned — Hana wanted to keep rolling, so we kept rolling, and by the time we packed the cooler for the Bellevue drive I had made way more than we needed and somehow not enough. I had leftover beets from the farmers market sitting on the counter, and this vegetarian lox came together in the margins of that afternoon: something to layer, something to share, something soft enough for Karen and bright enough to earn a place on the blanket next to the kimbap. It’s become one of those quiet recipes I reach for when I need food that does the caring for me.

Vegetarian Lox

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes (plus 2 hours marinating) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 medium red beets, scrubbed and trimmed
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce or tamari
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
• 1 teaspoon liquid smoke
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
• 1 teaspoon capers, roughly chopped
• 1 tablespoon fresh dill, plus more for serving
• Zest and juice of 1/2 lemon
• 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 1/4 teaspoon cracked black pepper
• Crackers, bagels, or cucumber rounds, for serving
• Cream cheese or vegan cream cheese, for serving
• Thinly sliced red onion and extra capers, for garnish

Instructions

1. Roast the beets. Preheat oven to 400°F. Wrap beets individually in foil and roast directly on the oven rack for 40–45 minutes, until a knife slides in with little resistance. Let cool completely, then peel and discard skins.
2. Slice thin. Using a mandoline or a sharp knife, slice the peeled beets as thinly as possible — ideally 1/8 inch or less. Thin slices will absorb the marinade quickly and mimic the delicate texture of lox.
3. Make the marinade. In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, rice vinegar, liquid smoke, olive oil, sesame oil, chopped capers, dill, lemon zest, lemon juice, salt, and pepper.
4. Marinate. Lay beet slices in a shallow dish or zip-top bag. Pour marinade over, turning to coat well. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or overnight for deeper flavor. The slices will deepen in color and take on a silky, cured quality.
5. Serve. Arrange marinated beet slices on crackers, bagels, or cucumber rounds spread with cream cheese. Top with sliced red onion, extra capers, and a few fresh dill fronds. Serve cold or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 85 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 380mg