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.

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I’ve been hit hard with the autumn bug this week. It’s barely September and I’m already trying to sneak in stewy soups and hearty braises into the time frame known as dinner — which is never a constant thing (you’re welcome to think our lack of routine is due to operation parenthood training rather than the lazy excuse I won’t even bring up.) Lately I’ve become obsessed with tart granny smith wedges dipped in warmed gooey caramel, and have snuggled myself into oversized sweaters with hot cups of tea on more than ten separate occasions in the last 42-hours.

There was even a carrot and apple slaw I failed to mention because, well, we were obsessed with the pretty fall colors and the new flavors of autumn and it was gone before I could even say yum. And, of course, the autumn dive has not had a single rescue attempt when we have been trying to stay dry for the past week with the 20-degree dip in temperature and the longing to have little fingers to hold rather than feeling them stroke my liver. Really, it is quite welcome.

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I am dancing on my tippy toes at the moment hoping and praying that spring will finally get here. The weather is fluctuating like crazy, 60s then 40s, 50s then 30s then 60s again. The sun has come out to play –  I think it was in hiding for the last 3 months, seriously, the sun hibernates in winter, did no one tell you? But just yesterday the sun did not go down until after 5:30, that’s progress right there. Eventually the nights will get hot and sticky and it will seem as if you are going to bed when it is still light outside — yes, I do think and long for these things, especially when my thermostat registers the “house high” at a chilly 62-degrees.

Or perhaps my spring longing started after receiving my Bon Appetit magazine, well the BA email preceded the magazine, but in both I spotted the same deliciously spring-green colored soup that looked full of promises of tulips and daisies — I need hope here people, remember the thermostat. Now, I know what you all must be thinking, that I am a toothless hillbilly that can only suck down soups that have been boiled and pureed down to the same mush form that toddlers eat, and I don’t think I could blame you seeing as this is the fourth out of six soups I have made this winter that require the use of a blender.

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Summer is almost over and I still have not made coleslaw. Is that a sin? If so I repent, but only if I can confess something as well. I have not made coleslaw because I do not like coleslaw. Yep, I’m definitely going to coleslaw purgatory now. But you see, I made this for a barbecue and for the man who funds my kitchen (gotta keep him happy right?). So I went with the Test Kitchen’s coleslaw, because I have no idea what makes a good coleslaw or a bad coleslaw.

I assumed needless mayo was a big turn off for coleslaw lovers, and I seem to have an aversion to the stuff lately myself. When I look at this so called “coleslaw” on people’s plates, I usually see a goopy glob of white with a few strands of white and sometimes purple poking out. I wanted something colorful — food shouldn’t be bland or colorless. And I definitely don’t want to be known as the coleslaw hater who brought a bowl of mayo with, what is that? Uhh, I think it’s cabbage?

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