Cold Dishes

Tangy, umami-ful and infinitely riffable, this cabbage salad (vegan or not!) hits all the right notes

By Leslie Brenner

Cabbage, as the New York Times proclaimed in a story in March, has become the “darling of the culinary world.” At restaurants around the country, you can find it charred, sauced, braised, stuffed with ’nduja, set on taleggio fondue, drizzled with tahini, basted with kelp butter, filled with smoked fish.

To me, a head of cabbage in the fridge — whether Napa, or red or standard green — is a cruciferous insurance policy that’s particularly valuable in the summer. Unlike ephemeral lettuce, which wilts if you look at it sideways, cabbage is always there for you, cooking not required.

Cabbage salads are wonderful for so many reasons. To begin with, they’re substantial enough to be a standalone lunch. They also take well to getting dressed up — and they hold their dressing really well without sogging out.

Of course you could make a perfectly serviceable cole slaw, but why not live a little, and really take that cabbage to town?

Recently my family has flipped over a cabbage salad dreamt up by my son Wylie. The idea at the heart of it is a tangy dressing based on lime juice and miso, with sesame oil, a little heat from gochujang and plenty of shredded fresh ginger. Toss that with a lot of shredded cabbage — of any kind (Napa, green cabbage, red cabbage), along with with sliced celery, red bell pepper and fresh herbs, whether cilantro or Italian parsley, plus scallions or red onion.

We usually include some kind of protein — usually tuna, tofu or chicken — and enjoy it as lunch-in-a-bowl. Or skip the protein, and call it a side dish.

It’s infinitely adaptable! Feel like finishing it with sesame seeds? That adds pizzazz. Or maybe you want a little more crunch: Go for chopped toasted cashews. You can’t go wrong.

Looking for something fresh to bring to a picnic or potluck? This travels well, and its gorgeous colors make it the life of the party.

Red Napa cabbage

Designing the salad

Your choice of cabbage determines the texture, look and crunch. If you’d like it green with lovely texture, use Napa cabbage. Regular green cabbage, a little sturdier, offers more crunch. You might use a combo of Napa and red cabbage. Or entirely red cabbage — that works, too. One day I found some gorgeous organic red Napa cabbage — it was brilliant in this.

Wylie’s Convertible Salad, made with Napa cabbage, red cabbage and tuna, finished with nigella seeds and toasted sesame seeds

Protein-wise, there are many ways to go. The first time Wylie made the salad, he included a can of flaked tuna. Salmon would work too — whether it’s leftover from dinner, or you open a can. Or sardines!

As its inspiration was California-style Chinese chicken salad, it’s particularly appealing with shredded chicken. Harbor a head of cabbage in your crisper, and whenever you find yourself with leftover rotisserie chicken — or any leftover cooked chicken — you’ve got a great match.

Lately I’m loving it with tofu, as I often want a satisfying vegan lunch. Pressed tofu — also a great thing to keep in the fridge — is super nice in it, cut into strips. For a different mood, extra-firm tofu adds nice softness, and those little pillows pick up the dressing so nicely.

The salad, made with extra-firm tofu, red cabbage and scallions, and finished with cashews

Ready, set, slice

Yes, there’s quite a bit of slicing involved. Look at it as a great opportunity to practice your knife skills. Or maybe you have a mandoline? Grab that cabbage and slice away — you’ll be through it in a flash (watch your fingers!).

RECIPE: Wylie’s Convertible Cabbage Salad

May many of your salad days be cabbage days.


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Recipe of the Day: Shrimp Gỏi Cuốn (Summer Rolls)

By Leslie Brenner

When we’re craving something fresh and herbal, shrimp summer rolls — gỏi cuốn — always hit the spot.

Lay out the fillings — poached shrimp, raw herbs, lettuce and boiled rice stick noodles — in the middle of the table, and let everyone dip their rice paper wrapper in water and roll their own. Serve them with peanut dipping sauce (tương chấm gỏi cuốn); the recipe for that follows the summer roll recipe.



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Recipe for Today: Chilled Oroshi Soba

By Leslie Brenner

There’s an unforgettable flavor and a soothing, cooling ritual I inevitably crave when temperatures soar: oroshi soba. That’s the name for the traditional Japanese dish of cold buckwheat noodles served with grated daikon and tsuyu, a savory chilled dipping sauce. Often served on a basket or a mat, it’s a humble dish, but it’s one of my favorites in the world.

Here’s the recipe:

5 favorite chilled soups — all of them vegetarian or vegan

Turkish cacik — chilled yogurt and cucumber soup with mint and dill

By Leslie Brenner

When the weather is sizzling hot, there’s nothing like a cold soup to refresh and restore.

Here are my five current faves. Two are vegan (the gazpachos); three are made without even turning on the stove (the gazpachos and the cacik). All are vegetarian. The borscht can also be vegan, if you leave off the sour cream stirred in at the end.

Cacik — Turkish Yogurt and Cucumber Soup

I love the traditional Turkish yogurt-and-cucumber soup known as cacik, first because it’s delicious and simple, but also because it you can make it in no time flat, by hand, without turning on the stove or even plugging anything in. Just whisk some yogurt to smoothness, add cucumber you’ve grated on a box grater, and whisk it together with chopped fresh mint and dill, a little white wine vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. Drop an ice cube in each bowl, top with more herbs (if you like) and enjoy.

Making cacik is a decidedly low-tech endeavor.

Gazpacho Sevillano

Have some gorgeous ripe tomatoes? Seville’s classic tomato gazpacho is the play. Its beautiful sherry tang makes it super refreshing.

The Greenest Gazpacho

Easy, herbal and honestly pretty dreamy, this green vegan gazpacho gets body from raw almonds or cashews.

My Mom’s Cold Beet Borscht

This is one of my favorite summer meals — my mom’s recipe. It’s lightly sweet, tangy and transporting.

Chilled Minted Pea Soup

Our Ridiculously Easy Mint Pea Soup — based on a traditional French potage Saint Germain — is normally served hot, as shown above. Leave off the crème fraîche garnish and chill it, and it’s fabulous eaten cold.


On a hot summer evening, nothing refreshes like a basket of chilled oroshi soba

By Leslie Brenner

There’s an unforgettable flavor and a soothing, cooling ritual I inevitably crave when temperatures soar: oroshi soba. That’s the name for the traditional Japanese dish of cold buckwheat noodles served with grated daikon and tsuyu, a savory chilled dipping sauce. Often served on a basket or a mat, it’s a humble dish, but it’s one of my favorites in the world.

Here’s how the ritual goes. You drop the grated daikon into the tsuyu; it sort of dissolves into it like a snowball. (“Oroshi” means grated vegetable.) You can also stir in some sliced scallions and a little wasabi, if you like. Pick up some noodles with your chopsticks, dip them into the sauce, lift to your mouth and revel in the moment: The nutty, earthy noodles, the sauce’s direct umami and the snappy, uplifting bite of the daikon all combine into an incredibly resonant flavor-chord, made all the more fabulous because it’s so refreshingly cold and wet.

It’s that unmistakable flavor-chord that plays in my memory summer after summer — a taste-memory loop that’s lasted now for decades.

I first happened upon oroshi soba 21 years ago. I had just moved back to Los Angeles from New York, and the L.A. Times’ Food editor at the time, Russ Parsons, invited me to lunch at a modest family-style Japanese diner in Little Tokyo, just a couple blocks from the Times’ historic headquarters. Those cold noodles and their flavor chord did a number on me, and I was hooked. When I joined the paper two years later, the diner — Suehiro (it’s still there!) — became a favorite. I always ordered the same thing: Not the plain and also traditional zaru soba, served without daikon, but the oroshi soba. For me, the chord’s high daikon note is essential.

Two recommended brands of dried soba: Kajino Kokusan Soba (left) and Shirakiku Japanese Style Buckwheat Noodle. Dried soba often comes bundled in 100-gram portions.

A few years later, Russ and I had another soba lunch, this time with me as Food editor and Russ as our California Cook columnist. It took place just south of L.A., in Gardena, at a tiny, under-the-radar spot called Otafuku. There the chef-owner, Seiji Akutsu, made incredible soba by hand — a rarity at the time, even in Southern California with its deep Japanese culinary culture. I can’t remember if Russ had been there before that, but he wound up writing about Otafuku (which is still open a quarter-century after it debuted). Russ’ piece, “Art of the Noodle,” is probably the best thing I’ve ever read about soba.

Weirdly, oroshi soba played a key part in my decision to move to Dallas, Texas some years later: Communing with a zaruful of exquisite handmade soba at Tei-An, an extraordinary Japanese restaurant that had just opened the previous year, I could suddenly see myself living there. (To this day, Tei-An one of my favorite restaurants — not just in Dallas, but anywhere.)

Still. A person can’t eat at Tei-An whenever she wants, and so there are times I’d like to enjoy an icy plate of oroshi soba at home.

Recently I started looking into how to make that delicious tsuyu, the dipping sauce. If I could do that and find a decent dried noodle, the rest would be a breeze.

Dashi, shown with its two components besides water: kombu (top left) and bonito flakes. The resulting stock is a key ingredient in tsuyu.

A recipe in Shizuo Tsuji’s seminal 1980 book Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art solved the tsuyu part of the puzzle lickety-split: One taste, and I knew it was exactly right. Make a batch, and you’ll have a goldmine in your fridge: It keeps for several months, and the recipe yields enough to keep you in cold noodles longer than a Texas heat wave. Whenever the oroshi soba craving bites you, you can have it on the table in the time it takes to boil the noodles and grate the daikon.

READ: Katsuobushi (bonito flakes) will put a spring in your step and umami on your plate

Preparing the sauce might seem a little daunting, as it involves first making dashi — Japan’s essential stock. But it’s totally worth it: Dashi is quickly made and you can freeze what you don’t use in the tsuyu, which means you can later make scratch miso soup at a moment’s notice. Once you have the dashi, the tsuyu is quick to come together as well: Just add soy sauce, mirin and a touch of sugar over the heat, then drop in a flurry of bonito flakes. Wait 10 seconds, strain, let cool and it’s ready. You can put together both in the span of 30 minutes.

The dried noodle part is a little tricky, as those made from 100% buckwheat can be a bit sawdust-like. The best dried noodles combine buckwheat flour and wheat flour, with a high enough proportion of buckwheat for great flavor, but enough wheat flour so the texture’s right.

I asked Teiichi Sakurai, Tei-An’s chef, owner and soba master, if there’s a one he finds tolerable. He recommended Kajino Kokusan, which I found at the best Japanese supermarket in our area, Mitsuwa Marketplace. I also looked there for the brands recommended by Mutsuko Soma in a taste-test story published in Food & Wine magazine in 2019. (Soma is chef at Seattle’s renowned soba restaurant, Kamonegi.) I didn’t find those exactly, but did find a dried soba from Shirakiku — one of the brands she recommended. (The specific noodle is Shirakiku Japanese Style Buckwheat Noodle.) Both it and the Kajino Kokusan are very good. Even better, with a lovely, springy texture and deeper flavor, was a fresh noodle I also found at Mitsuwa — Izumo Soba Noodles from Soba Honda.

If you find yourself staring down an assortment of unfamiliar dried soba, I’d suggest choosing one imported from Japan that lists both buckwheat flour and wheat flour in the ingredients, with buckwheat listed first, and no other ingredients besides salt.

OK. You should have what you need. If you want to turn your soba moment into dinner, you don’t need to add much — I like to start with something vinegary, like a simple sunomono salad. Or pick up some tsukemono at that same Japanese grocery — shibazuke, the purple one made with eggplant and shiso, would be dreamy.

And then enjoy that cool, slurpy, umamiful tangle of buckwheaty goodness.

The 15 best things we *didn't* cook in August

Tomato Burrata Salad: no heat required!

By Leslie Brenner

We’ve done a lot of not-cooking this insanely hot month — and loved it! Opening a tin of sardines, squeezing a lemon, arranging greens, slicing height-of-the-season tomatoes: That’s the kind of low-stress prep it takes to make something delightful without going near the stove.

Especially this time of year, when there’s so much great produce. That’s right — we’re talking about dishes you can accomplish without so much as coddling an egg or toasting bread.

Put a few of them together — add a bottle of rosé or orange wine, if you’re so inclined — and you’ve got a royal spread.

1. Mikie’s Marinated Olives

Whether you scoop up your favorite selections from the olive bar, or just open a jar of Castelvetranos, this easy toss with fresh herbs, citrus and garlic is welcome at any gathering.

Every French home cook has this tangy raw carrot salad in their bag of delicious tricks.

RECIPE: Carottes Rapées

3. Amá’s Guacamole

Every guac is great this time of year — from a traditional one to a Thai-inspired renegade. The celery-happy version in Josef Centeno’s wonderful Amá cookbook is lovely, light, and particularly summery.

RECIPE: Amá’s Guacamole

4. Leela Punyaratabandhu’s Green Papaya Salad

The combination of lime juice, fish sauce and peanuts makes Southeast Asian green papaya salad highly craveable during summer. Leela Punyaratabandu’s excellent version from Simple Thai Food gets the balance just right.

Cool and satisfying, with some richness from raw almonds or cashews and tang from sherry vinegar, this chilled soup is one of our favorites ever. It’s vegan — and unlike traditional bread-thickened Gazpacho Sevillano, it’s gluten-free.

RECIPE: The Greenest Gazpacho

6. Cucumber, Radish and Feta Salad

A touch of orange-blossom water makes this minty little number transportingly good.

RECIPE: Cucumber, Radish and Feta Salad

7. Marinated Goat Cheese

Keep a log of organic goat cheese in the fridge (unopened, it keeps for ages) as an insurance policy for when you need this quick app on the fly. (Follow the “skip the heating” suggestion in the recipe.)

RECIPE: Marinated Goat Cheese

8. Fuchsia Dunlop’s Spicy Sichuan Chicken Salad

This jazzy, sesame-fragrant cold chicken salad is one of our favorite dishes from one of our favorite cookbooks, Fuchsia Dunlop’s Every Grain of Rice. It’s a great use for store-bought roast chicken.

I usually have everything on hand to make this delicious toss of an Italian-inspired salad: a can each of tuna and cannellini beans, a red onion, some parsley and celery. A squeeze of lemon or drizzle of vinegar adds lift and bounce.

RECIPE: Tuna and Cannellini Bean Salad

10. Sabzi Khordan (Persian Herb Platter)

The platter of herbs that accompanies just about every Persian meal can make a fabulous meal on its own — especially when it includes good feta and walnuts and it’s served with a nice flatbread.

RECIPE: Sabzi Khordan (Persian Herb Platter)

11. Tomato and Burrata Salad

This is the moment for the classic salad, as tomatoes are bursting with flavor. Use mozzarella or ricotta if you can’t find burrata.

RECIPE: Tomato and Burrata Salad

12. A16’s Raw Zucchini Salad with Green Olives, Mint and Pecorino

Mint, green olives and salty Italian cheese come together harmoniously in this unusual and pretty fabulous raw zucchini salad. It’s adapted from Nate Appleman and Shelly Lindgren’s A16 Food & Wine cookbook, inspired by their San Francisco pizza place.

RECIPE: A16’s Raw Zucchini Salad

13. Smoked Trout ‘Rillettes’

Make this once or twice — after that, you’ll be able to whip it up with your eyes closed. It’s so delicious, we make it every couple of weeks, all year long.

The Levant region’s minty, sumac-y green salad has crispy pita; our bread-less one may infuriate purists, but we think it’s pretty swell — and gluten-free.

RECIPE: Fattoush-ish

15. Gazpacho Sevillano

Help yourself to our award-winning version of the world’s most famous cold soup!


Dinner on ice: 5 cold dishes that refresh and delight

A selection of oysters waiting to be shucked at Glidden Point Oyster Farm in Edgecomb, Maine

By Leslie Brenner

The hotter it gets, the colder I want to eat. Last night I returned from a work trip to Maine, a paradise cool and green with no shortage of pellet ice or spectacular oysters. Today, we’re in triple digits where I live, in Dallas. Yep, 107. I just want to put everything on ice.

Is it hot where you are? If so, let’s do this. I’ll give you 5 summer recipes that are great eaten cold, and you supply the ice.

Shrimp Goi Cuon (Vietnamese Summer Rolls)

These traditional Vietnamese summer rolls with stretchy rice-paper wrappers are meant to be a starter, but they’re so good, I like to make a whole meal of them.

Ice Opp: Make a platter of goi cuon and set it atop a larger rimmed platter filled with ice. Refreshing! (Note to self: develop a recipe for Che Ba Mau — the three-color Vietnamese ice dessert. Would be the perfect frozen exclamation point to the summer rolls.)

Cold Beet Borscht

When I was growing up in Southern California’s San Fernando Valley, where summer temps frequently topped 100, my mom steadfastly refused to put air conditioning in our house; she didn’t believe in it. We did have a pool, and to keep cool, we’d go in wearing oversized tee-shirts and then sit in the shade of our big rubber tree playing cards dripping wet and drinking iced tea.

Come dinnertime, my mom would set out what she called “cold summer din.” Usually that meant a bowl of cold borscht, followed by a plate of salmon salad (flaked canned salmon, diced red onion and celery, lemon juice), quartered tomatoes and egg noodles mixed with cottage cheese. The latter wasn’t cold; go figure.

But truth be told, today when I eat this borscht — my mom’s recipe, accompanied by a bowl of diced radishes, cukes and scallions, plus sour cream and optional boiled potato — I inevitably want a second bowl, and that’s enough dinner for me.

Ice Opp: Throw a couple of big cubes right in the bowl. Colder the better!

Classic Tabbouleh

The famous parsley salad of the Levant makes a simple yet delicious summer dinner on its own, especially when scooped up with tender, young romaine leaves. Cast a couple of co-stars next to it, maybe Baba Ganoush and/or Hummus (either the Ultimate version or its quick-to-whip-up cheater cousin), and suddenly you’ve got a mezze spread. We won’t ask you to bake your own pita bread for it; not in this heat! Instead, pick up pitas from a Middle-Eastern bakery if you’re lucky enough to have one, or the supermarket if not.

While you’re at it, grab some marinated olives (or marinate some!), plus a tin of sardines and a can of dolmas (arrange on plate, add lemon wedges). Also great with this spread: Cucumber, Radish and Feta salad.

Ice Opp: Pour a glass of arak — Lebanon’s iconic anise aperitif — and add an excessive amount of ice.

Cold and Spicy Noodles

Inspired by Korean flavors, this is a noodle bowl and a salad in one — tossed with a lusciously umami-ful dressing with great body. It’s emphatically cold, and highly customizable: Change up the garnishes as you see fit. Choose Korean somyeon or Japanese somen or soba noodles, and feel free to play fast and loose with the vegetables. Skip the egg and add tofu, or finish it with shredded cold leftover chicken.

Bonus points: Swap the hard-boiled egg for a Japanese marinated ajitama egg (also known as a ramen egg) — the kind with the gelatinous yolk. (Our recipe’s headnote links to a recipe for that.)

Ice Opp: Toss ice cubes in with the noodles when you drain them to get them really cold.

Vuelve a la Vida

In some parts of coastal Mexico, the seafood dish known as vuelve a la vida (or “come back to life”) is served hot. But the kind I love is cold — much like a cross between ceviche and a seafood coctél. The version from Pati Jinich’s 2021 book Treasures of the Mexican Table is wonderful.

Ice Opp: Fill a huge bowl with crushed ice, and sink glasses of Vuelva a la Vida in the ice. Or stir up a few Margaritas on the Rocks!


Taste my Ukraine in a bowl of cold beet borscht

 By Leslie Brenner

There is only one thing in the world that my adventurous, handsome husband does not eat: beets. And so it happens that one of my favorite foods from my childhood — cold beet borscht — has never once graced our family table.

Until last week. Borscht, you see, is the national dish of Ukraine.

Recently, I have had a devastating personal loss. My brother David, who was two years my junior, died last month quite unexpectedly. It was our younger brother Johnny who called and delivered the irreparable, impossible news.

There is a thing that ties us together in my family: Our souls reside in our kitchens. They lurk in the bottom of a Dutch oven, to be scraped up and deglazed with a gurgle of wine; they flutter within a bowl of heavy cream, about to be whipped into lightness and loft. They waft about, now in the fridge, next in the pantry, whether we’re still of this world, or whether we’ve left long ago.

The love of cooking shared by my brothers and me came from our mom, Joan. She didn’t exactly teach us to cook; she taught us to love cooking. We watched her in the kitchen; we learned by osmosis. The methodical chop of the onion. The quiet sizzle in the pan. The aroma. 

Joan was hilarious. She was so funny and so sharp that you almost didn’t consider why she should be sad. The three of us, David and Johnny and I, would remember her, since we lost her six years ago, by texting each other about what we were cooking, or eating, or about our childhood food memories, or how funny Joan was.

Dave was also hilarious. As a teenager, one night — as we sat around the dinner table — he took a large handful of mashed potatoes and smeared it onto his face, a solid white beard. He then proceeded to shave it off, onto his plate, with his butter knife.  

The last thing David texted to Johnny and me, two days before he died, was about something he had just cooked for his family. It involved chuck roast, which made him remember Joan and the way she made beef stew. 

What’s happening in Ukraine — what has happened in the last month, since we lost Dave — would have torn my brother apart.

And not because Ukraine is our ancestral homeland. Our paternal grandfather was born in Zobolotov (now Zablotiv) in Western Ukraine, near the border with Moldova. But because of what Ukraine is now.

And so, I’ve been thinking about borscht — of which there are many kinds.  From what I’ve read, the borscht that is the national dish of Ukraine is the hot-and-hearty style, the beef-based borscht, rooty and earthy and deep.

But if you say “borscht” to just about any American of a certain age who was raised in a Jewish household, something cold and refreshing and pink is what springs to mind. Something light and vegetarian, with a touch of sweetness, a touch of tang. This is the borscht of Ashkenazi Jews a hundred and fifty years ago, who were chased out, or escaped the pogrom. Or who escaped or were exterminated a few decades later. Perhaps it is also the borscht of the Ashkenazi Jews who somehow have remained. The Volodymyr Zelenskys.  

Pink borscht — cool, refreshing, and hopeful — is what ties me to president Zelensky, and to the people, brave and bold and besieged, of Ukraine.

It means the world to me to share my mom’s recipe, passed down from her family, from who-knows-where in Eastern Europe, with you.


Help feed the people of Ukraine by donating to World Central Kitchen. Its Chefs for Ukraine initiative is feeding people across the region, at border crossings into Poland, Romania, Moldova, and Hungary.

Now through Sunday, March 18, 100% of our proceeds from our $5 e-cookbook, 21 Favorite Recipes Cooks Without Borders, will be donated to World Central Kitchen.