Creamy Midwestern Coleslaw

There is a coleslaw that belongs to the Midwest the way pulled pork belongs to Carolina. You'll find it at every fish fry from Wisconsin to Ohio, every church basement potluck, every backyard cookout where someone's uncle is arguing about charcoal versus gas. It arrives in a bowl larger than strictly necessary, and it disappears before the main course is half gone.

This is not the vinegar-dressed slaw of the South or the fennel-studded versions you'll find on restaurant menus. Midwestern coleslaw is creamy, slightly sweet, and unapologetically mayonnaise-based. The celery seed is what gives it away, that distinctive note that transports you immediately to a picnic table with a red-checked cloth and a plate of fried perch.

The technique requires nothing more than a sharp knife and a willingness to let time do its work. Shred your cabbage thin, dress it generously, and then walk away. The resting period is not optional. Fresh-made slaw tastes harsh and disconnected, each ingredient announcing itself separately. After an hour in the refrigerator, everything softens and melds into something greater than its parts.