Tremendous Vinegar Coleslaw

I want to talk about coleslaw. Specifically, I want to talk about how most coleslaw in this country is a CRIME against the cabbage that died to make it. Mayonnaise soup with a few sad shreds floating in it like a shipwreck. You order a sandwich, they hand you a soft plastic cup of WET WHITE GOOP next to it on the plate, and somewhere in the back of the kitchen a chef is signing off on this and going home and looking his children in the eye. A scandal. An embarrassment. The delis know what they've done. Some of them can't look me in the eye anymore. Not my problem.

My coleslaw — the tremendous one, the one we're making today — has NO mayonnaise. Zero. None. It's vinegar-based, it's bright, it's sharp, it has actual CRUNCH, and you can taste each individual strand of cabbage as a separate event in your mouth. The Carolinians have been doing it this way for generations. The Germans had a version before that. Nobody disputes this. The Carolinians, by the way, deserve a parade — they understand slaw, they understand vinegar, they understand that a side dish should have a point of view, and yet the food media never gives them the credit. That chef on TV — you know the one — has never made a real Carolina slaw in his life. Find a new chef.

Now here's the move, and I'm giving it to you for free — no popup, no newsletter signup, no cookie banner with eighteen toggle switches written by lawyers who don't believe in lunch — you SALT the cabbage first. You salt it. You toss it. You let it WEEP. It cries its sad watery soul into a colander for thirty minutes, and what comes out the other side is concentrated cabbage. Intense cabbage. BIGLY cabbage. The dressing has somewhere to GO. The slaw has something to BE. That's the whole game. That's the bottom line.

This slaw goes with EVERYTHING. Pulled pork — perfect. Brisket — perfect. Hot dog — perfect, you put it ON the hot dog, you don't even need ketchup anymore, ketchup is OUT. Fish sandwich — perfect. Just a fork and a bowl at 11pm standing over the sink in your robe — also perfect, I won't tell, I've done it, we've all done it. Make a double batch. It keeps a full week and only gets better. The mayo slaws turn into a science experiment by day three. Not this one. This one ages like a fine wine, like a fine cheese, like ME. Save me a piece.