Almost two years ago I made coleslaw for the first time. I admitted doing so only to keep my better half, the one who funds my kitchen, happy as he wanted a coleslaw topped pulled pork sandwich replicating the kind we had deep within South Carolina barbeque country the year prior. I, for one, was not going to poke the bear. Along the way I realized coleslaw was not nearly as horrible as my dramatic woes led me on. Coleslaw did not need to be a bowl of mayonnaise soup (my biggest fear) and my taste buds actually enjoyed the flavor of a lightly dressed cabbage salad. Like, a lot.
Unfortunately I’ve only made it once. Despite being decidedly uncreamy, as the name implies otherwise, it seemed to have more steps than I thought a simple cabbage salad should have. It required a four-hour wilt marathon over the sink before it had to be rinsed it off, patted it dry, and coated with a light dressing before being served — unless you prefer it chilled, and then time would need to be factored in accordingly. It’s not that I am unable to make myself useful during that four hours — frosting cupcakes, form smacking burgers for the grill, or splashing in the pool — I just frankly am impatient. I want it now.