Name: Italian Chopped Brussels Sprouts Salad
Prep time: 20 min
Total time: 20 min
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients: 1 lb Brussels sprouts, trimmed and finely chopped; 1/2 cup cherry tomatoes, quartered; 1/3 cup sliced pepperoncini; 1/4 cup red onion, finely diced; 1/2 cup salami, diced; 1/3 cup provolone cheese, diced; 1/4 cup Kalamata olives, sliced; 3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil; 2 tbsp red wine vinegar; 1 tsp Italian seasoning; Salt and black pepper, to taste

Let’s Talk About Italian Chopped Brussels Sprouts Salad

Alright, confession time: I never actually liked Brussels Sprouts as a kid. I mean, who does? These tiny cabbages would show up at holiday dinners like distant relatives you’re supposed to love, but don’t really know. But then one fateful potluck, my neighbor Carol (hey Carol, if you’re reading this!) brought an Italian Chopped Brussels Sprouts Salad that was just—bam!—totally different. Now, here I am, passing the obsession on to any unsuspecting guest who glances at my salad bowl. This dish has become kind of a running joke in my house; if you see me hauling out the food processor, you know Brussels are about to get the spotlight.

Why You’ll Love This Salad (Or At Least Tolerate It Better)

I make this when I need something crunchy but am too tired to fuss with roasting pans. My family goes a little wild for it because the salami and cheese bits sneak in between all those green shreds (people think it’s healthy and then—surprise!—there’s a cube of provolone). To be honest, it took me ages to get the brussels slicing just right; I used to end up with half-shredded, half-chunked chaos. But hey, nobody complained, so maybe perfection’s overrated. Plus, this salad is basically a blank canvas: so many ways to riff.

What You’ll Need (With a Few Swaps)

500g Brussels sprouts, shredded (I’ve tried eyeballing it—too much math. A bag is fine!)
1 small red onion, thinly sliced (but I sometimes use shallots; my friend Beth swears by them for salads)
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved (or a handful of sun-dried ones if that’s what’s sitting in your fridge)
1/2 cup Italian salami, chopped into small bits (totally fine to use turkey or skip entirely for vegetarian)
1/2 cup provolone or mozzarella cheese, diced (honestly, cheddar works fine if you’re in a pinch. Sorry, Nonna!)
1/4 cup pepperoncini, sliced (pickled jalapeños work in a bind; don’t tell any purists)
1/3 cup toasted pine nuts (if you forget to toast them like I do 90% of the time, it’s still tasty)
For the dressing:
- 4 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar (sometimes I swap in white balsamic, depending what’s in arm’s reach)
- 1 teaspoon honey
- 1 garlic clove, minced
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano (fresh is lovely, but dried is what my cupboard’s got, usually)
- Salt and fresh ground black pepper

Okay, So How Do You Actually Make It?

Prep the Brussels sprouts: Cut off the ends and outer raggedy leaves (unless you like a bit of crunch—no judgment). Shred them thin, either using a food processor, a sharp knife, or one of those old school box graters. Actually, I find it works better if I use the slicer disk, but you do you.
Chop everything else: Dice your cheese and salami, slice up the onion and tomatoes. Toss ’em in a big bowl—big enough that things won’t start leaping out when you mix, cause it’s definitely happened here more than once.
Pepperoncini and pine nuts: Slice those pickled peppers (just a few unless your crowd likes spice) and chuck in the pine nuts. Don’t worry if you forgot to toast ’em (I mean, who remembers every time?)
Make the dressing: Whisk olive oil, vinegar, honey, garlic, and oregano together. This is where I usually sneak a taste—and sometimes add a pinch more salt. Or less, depending on how the salami’s behaving. Don’t fuss over perfect emulsion; a bit of separation is not a crime.
Toss it all: Pour the dressing over the Brussels concoction, stir it all up, and give it a taste. Add more pepper or vinegar if it needs a punch. At this point, don’t worry if it looks a bit weird—the flavors need a minute to get acquainted.
Let it chill: 5–10 minutes at least, just on the counter. Sometimes I forget and serve it straight away; still totally decent.

Stuff I Learned the Hard Way (Notes)

If you over-shred the Brussels, the whole thing gets kinda slaw-like, which is fine, but not exactly salad-y. Maybe that’s just me?
Don’t skip the salt. Once I tried to make it “super healthy” and, well, everyone was pretty underwhelmed.
I once tried pre-shredded supermarket Brussels—it’s okay in a pinch, but you lose a little crunch. On the other hand, no bloody knuckles, so there’s that.

If You Want to Switch It Up (Variations, Both Good and… Not)

Once I tossed in chopped artichoke hearts—surprisingly great.
I also tried feta instead of provolone, and it was… meh. The tang didn’t really play nice with the dressing.
Roasted chickpeas on top? Epic. Croutons were a disaster (just soggy rocks).
Omit the salami and it becomes the rare vegetarian dish my brother will still eat!

Tools & Gear (But Don’t Panic)

Food processor or sharp knife (honestly, if you just go at it with a regular knife, you’ll be fine—just maybe not if you’re in a rush)
Large mixing bowl
Cutting board, maybe two if you’re tidy (I never do…it shows)
Whisk or a fork for the dressing (in a jar and shake it up—that’s what I do half the time when I’m feeling a bit lazy)

How to Store It (Or, Why There’s Never Leftovers Here)

Airtight container, fridge, up to 2 days…though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! I think it’s slightly better the next day, so if you’re lucky enough to have any left, congrats.

Serving Vibes (Do What Feels Right)

I like to serve this with big hunks of crusty bread (and any excuse for bread wins with my family). Sometimes it’s the hero at potlucks; other times it sits next to roast chicken for weeknight dinner. Oh—my cousin dips bread straight in the leftover dressing after all the salad is gone, and honestly, who could blame her?

Things I Wish I’d Known (Pro Tips)

Don’t rush slicing the Brussels—if you try to dump whole ones in the processor and blitz, it becomes a green tornado. Trust me, I spent twenty minutes picking out weird big chunks once.
Taste as you go; actually, I find it works better if you build the salad in layers and dress as you assemble, instead of pouring everything at the end. But I only remember about 60% of the time.
If the dressing seems too harsh, just toss in a bit more honey or a splash of water—that’s saved me more than once.

FAQs (Because Somehow, People Always Ask This…)

Does it taste too cabbagey? Not really—raw Brussels are milder when sliced thin, and all those extras help. Unless you go heavy on the onion, then yeah, you’ll notice it!
Can I prep it the night before? Definitely. Just keep the dressing separate till you’re ready to eat, otherwise it gets a tad soggy (unless you like that…)
What if my Brussels are bitter? Try dunking them in cold water after slicing—takes the edge off, though it’s not foolproof. Sometimes Brussels just have a mind of their own.
Can I freeze it? I wouldn’t. The texture goes all sorts of mushy—learned that the hard way (my freezer is still holding onto one failed attempt…)
I don’t have pine nuts—what now? Use sunflower seeds, or just skip them altogether. No one will even notice!

So that’s my Italian Chopped Brussels Sprouts Salad. Did I mention how good it is for breakfast, too? On second thought…maybe keep that part to yourself until you’ve tried it. If you give it a go, let me know how it turns out—unless it’s a disaster, then blame Carol.