Three Salads You Won't Hate. I Promise.

Hey Reader,

If you're a long-time follower, then you probably already know that I'm not a big fan of salads. Korean cuisine is not salad-heavy. In fact, we never ate salads growing up and thus, I could never really get around to developing a taste for them.

If you want to eat lettuce, wrap it around some protein with a little rice ("ssam"). If you want some spinach, boil it and put it in some kimbap. If you want cucumber, stuff it with carrots and gochugaru to make kimchi. If you want a tomato, then just eat a tomato...?

Since going vegan, though, salads have become a challenge for me:

Can I develop a salad I will not hate?

It turns out, YES!

The problem was that I was viewing salad exclusively through the lens of my high school cafeteria--the sad, wilty globs of green leaves doused in cloyingly sweet dressing. One note, one-dimensional, and nutritionally deficient in every way. It turns out that the keys to a good salad are the following:

Texture, to guard against the wiltiness.

Flavor, to make sure each bite is delicious.

Heartiness, to make sure you don't feel hungry even after you're done eating.

The following three salads, including the panzanella I made this past week using up a few of the peaches and a rock hard loaf of sourdough sitting on my kitchen counter, are among my favorites, and hit on all three of these keys.

Easy Bread Salad - Peach Panzanella.

This salad will take you only 10 minutes from start to finish. The fresh cucumbers provide the perfect crunch and balance to the tender bread and tart peaches. It's also gorgeous to look at and a total crowd pleaser! Perfect for your next picnic, potluck, or dinner party!

Broccoli & Apple Salad.

My absolute favorite thing about fall is that apples are back in season!! Switch out those peaches for apples for a fiber-packed extravaganza. Based on one of the few Korean salads we'd typically see at church picnics, my brother proclaimed this recipe to be one of the best he's ever eaten!

Kale & Zucchini Salad with Parsnip Chips.

Parsnip Chips!! Remember what I said about texture? Sometimes the best way to get yourself to eat more salad is to add the word "chips" to it, even if those chips are made out of another vegetable!

How to Start a Running Routine.

On September 12 at 8:30 PM EST I'll be leading a live, interactive chat online on Starting a Running Routine. This is the number 1 question I get asked—so let’s dive into it together! We’ll cover everything you want to know about running and then some. I'll also be taking your questions on plant-based cooking, nutrition, training, and more.

This LIVE Q&A will take place here, on The Korean Vegan Kollective.

If you're not a member, but would like to attend, and try out the TKV Kollective, use code TryTKV at checkout to get a two-week free trial. Join us here.

Parting Thoughts.

This morning, as I do each morning, still in bed, I tapped the icon for Google Sheets and opened the spreadsheet called "Joanne Molinaro - 2024 Training Plan." I scrolled down to what my running coach, Dan, had prepared for me today: 7 miles, consisting of a 2 mile warm up, 2 half-mile repeats, an uptempo mile, and a couple more miles at easy pace.

Despite having had a rough night of what barely passed for "sleep," I pulled myself upright, reached for the running socks, running shorts, and sports bra I'd picked out and placed on my bedside table the night before. I began compiling the list of things I'd need to do today while getting dressed in the same order as every Monday through Saturday: socks first, followed by shorts, sports bra last.

As I walked around our bed and out the door of the bedroom, I braced myself for the initial ache in my feet, the one that needled me each morning on that first step down the staircase that led to our kitchen. Each step, deliberate, was slightly angled to avoid placing too much weight on my forefoot and toes.

For the thousandth time, my mind flickered to the same memory that seemed to play on repeat each morning I managed my way down the staircase: an Unni of mine, one who is at least 10 years older than me, trundling down the winding staircase of her Harlem brownstone when I last visited, her long black hair swinging wildly behind her, how I marveled back then that a woman whose feet had weathered more than a decade of life beyond mine could run down the stairs like a child.

Turning into our kitchen, I flicked the lights on--the sun was out and above the horizon, but the soft remains of night still clung to the corners. I punched in the code to our alarm, turned off the AC, spun on my heel to bend over and get Lulu's food bowl. I filled it with a bit of kibble, carried it to the fridge containing her homemade food, spooned exactly 2 large spoonfuls into her bowl, listened for the "chit-chit-chit" of her feet as she raced down the stairs and leapt up to greet me as I closed the fridge door.

"There you are, my love," I cooed.

I placed her bowl in the elevated wooden tray I'd purchased for my Rudy when his arthritis made it too difficult for him to bend over to eat. The soft "click click click" of the steel bowl colliding against the edge of the holder as Lulu broke her fast followed me down the corridor into our small "laundry room." I grabbed Lulu's leash and slipped my feet into the slides I wore each morning for her walk and waited for about 45 seconds before Lulu trotted towards me.

Out on our walk, I recorded a couple of voice notes for my friend in Belgium as I do each morning, argued with Lulu about whether or not she needed to be quite so loud when yelling at the man delivering water to our neighbors or the woman walking her enviably well-behaved boxer down the street. We returned to our kitchen, the yellow light spilling out from the open door of the laundry room like a slice of buttered bread. Anthony was pouring water into the espresso machine and, like clockwork, Lulu hopped up onto her seat at the kitchen table, waiting for her daily dose of vitamins with a barely suppressed quiver.

I sipped on the cup of coffee Anthony placed in front of me, nibbled on the scone my friend had baked for our dinner party a couple nights before. We did the Wordle. I pulled out a notepad and put together a task list for today, Monday, Labor Day, a holiday. 12 items, including the chapter summaries of the memoir I decided to write, a video for tomorrow, an email to my manager, a phone call with Omma. I finished the coffee, went to the bathroom, my last trip before heading out for my run, and came out pulling my hair back into a braid so I could tuck it underneath the right shoulder band of my sports bra.

I glanced up at the clock--8:23. I had 7 minutes before I'd head out to the gym. I played with Lulu, dangling her favorite slipper between her perfectly round and lovely eyes, unmarred by whatever disappointments might have preceded this tiny moment on the couch with me.

At 8:30, I kissed Lulu's head, got up, made my way around the couch, grabbed the sweatshirt I'd drape over the display of the treadmill while I ran, passed the now empty bowl in Lulu's food tray, tugged one final time on my braid, and...

Turned right around. Sat back down on the couch, where Lulu waited with her ratty slipper. Grabbed my phone and texted my coach:

"Good morning Dan! Happy Labor Day!! I hope it’s ok, but I’m taking a 'I’m about to burnout' day today."

I turned to Lulu and explained to her, quite solemnly, in Korean, "Did you know? Your grandma bought me that slipper all the way from Korea. I think it's mine...?" before I yanked it out of her paws and watched her dive into the day.

Wishing you all the best,