Shaved Brussels Sprout Salad

September. The nights turned the way they always turn — a sudden shift on Tuesday, the window open, a cool draft at midnight, Dave pulling up the quilt without waking up — and the mornings now smell like something earned. I love September in Nebraska. I love the back-to-school rhythm, the football Fridays, the earlier dusks, the slow yellow creep at the edges of the ash trees on our street. I love that summer is ending and I love that fall is coming and I love both of those things without contradiction, because 44 years of Nebraska have taught me that the seasons are the same story told in different weathers.

Justin had his first true varsity start Friday — home game, under the lights of Memorial Stadium (the Grand Island one, not the Huskers one, though you could get confused at night and not know the difference). He played slot receiver for three series, caught two passes, one for 9 yards and one for 14. He also threw a crushing block on a crossing route that brought the crowd up out of their seats. Afterward in the parking lot a man I did not recognize came up to Dave and said, "That Wheeler-Novak kid is going to be something." Dave said, "He already is." That man nodded and walked away. I love my husband. I love my son. I loved that moment.

Drove a Denver run Monday and Tuesday — a long one, two days, a hotel stop in Ogallala — and I wrote in the hotel room for three hours Monday night and ate a salad I had packed from home and drank coffee from a packet and I felt like a writer for the first time. Not a trucker writing a book. A writer. It is a surprising and frightening feeling. I do not know what to do with it. I think I will just keep writing.

The cookbook is at fifty-three thousand. I am fine-tuning the chapter about road hazards — black ice, tornado warnings, bad weather cooking (soup day: when you see the storm on the radar, you start the slow cooker because the truck might be parked at a rest stop for six hours) — and it is the chapter Sarah has said she is most curious about. Writers in New York do not know what it is like to eat a slow cooker stew in a truck cab during a Kansas tornado warning. I know. I am going to tell them.

Gayle asked me over Saturday. She made goulash. It was exactly like the goulash she made in 1987. I was ten years old and sitting at that formica table and eating goulash with my father and my sister and my mother and my life had not started yet, and then it started, and then the hard parts happened, and then the good parts happened, and then Saturday I was 44 and the goulash was the same. There is a kind of grace in the continuity of a mother's recipes. I am putting it in the book. I am putting Gayle in the book. She will pretend to be embarrassed. She will read it twice in private.

That Monday night in Ogallala — coffee from a foil packet, three hours of writing, and a salad I’d packed myself — was the night something shifted for me, and I’ve been thinking ever since about why that meal felt so right for that moment. There’s something about making a real salad at home and carrying it with you into the unknown that is its own kind of declaration: I am someone who plans ahead, who takes care of herself, who does not eat vending machine crackers when she is trying to write a book. This shaved Brussels sprout salad is exactly what I packed that night — sturdy enough to survive hours in a cooler, bright enough to wake you up, and honest enough to taste like something you made with your own hands.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb Brussels sprouts, trimmed and tough outer leaves removed
1/3 cup dried cranberries
1/3 cup sliced almonds
1/4 cup shaved or finely grated Parmesan
2 green onions, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Toast the almonds. In a small dry skillet over medium heat, toast the sliced almonds for 3—5 minutes, stirring frequently, until golden and fragrant. Remove from heat and let cool completely.
Shave the Brussels sprouts. Using a sharp knife, a mandoline, or the slicing blade of a food processor, shave the sprouts as thinly as possible. Transfer to a large bowl and use your hands to separate any leaves that are stuck together.
Make the dressing. In a small jar or bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, honey, garlic powder, salt, and pepper until fully emulsified.
Dress and toss. Pour the dressing over the shaved sprouts and toss thoroughly to coat. Let the salad sit for at least 10 minutes — the lemon and salt will soften the sprouts slightly and deepen the flavor.
Add toppings. Just before serving (or packing), fold in the dried cranberries, toasted almonds, green onions, and Parmesan. Taste and adjust salt and lemon as needed.
Pack for the road (optional). For a packed salad, store the dressed sprouts in a sealed container and keep the almonds and Parmesan in a small separate bag. Add the crunchy toppings when you’re ready to eat. Holds well in a cooler for up to 24 hours.

Nutrition (per serving)

Shaved Brussels Sprout Salad — The One I Packed for Ogallala