Braising Cabbage, I mean, Brazen Dog
20 Dec
I like to cook. That news might come as a shock to my husband, since given my schedule, I don’t do much. When I do enter the kitchen, my goal is to cook seasonally and to eat locally produced food. The seasonal part is generally a success. The local part is on a best-efforts basis.
Today’s doings involved braising cabbage. In late December in Poland, if you lean toward the vegetarian side of life, your menu choices narrow, but potatoes, leeks, onions, celery root, parsnips, carrots and cabbage are plentiful.
Yesterday when we patrolled the produce section, I saw that there wasn’t a head of cauliflower to be found. Surprised and sad that I had missed that boat, I set my sights on the kapusta (cabbage.) With Alice Waters at my side, I knew it wouldn’t be hard to make something simple and tasty.
My sister-in-law Kathy, bestower of the best gifts, gave me a copy of Water’s book The Art of Simple Food years ago, but it wasn’t until I moved to Poland and focused my culinary efforts along Slow Food lines, did the book become my food bible.
About 20 years ago, Joanne Behr–who along with Waters and myself is a food-loving Jersey girl–taught me by example that a real cook never proves her stuff until she shows how she can improvise. Prior to spending time in Joanne’s kitchen, I was surrounded by strict recipe-followers, which is all well and good until you find yourself missing most of the ingredients to your braised cabbage recipe.
I had cabbage, salt, pepper and olive oil. I had bay leaves. What I didn’t have was the celery, carrot, fresh thyme and white wine that Waters recommended. The great thing about Waters, of course, is that she understands the need for flexibility when it comes to ingredients. She had a variation that skipped the other root vegetables. I opted for that version and substituted beer for the white wine and dried thyme and garlic for the fresh. Because I trust Waters implicitly, I skipped my usual avoidance of butter and added a generous pat to the finished product.
Despite my initial misgivings, the final dish tasted buttery and savory. The test was going to be what my husband thought. He’s not much on minimalist vegetarian cuisine. Plus, I was serving cabbage to a Pole. When he walked in with the Christmas tree this afternoon, I had him taste it. Success.
About a half hour later, I moved the dish, which I had made for a party, to the counter, so that my husband could serve French toast. The dog knows better than to steal food when we are around. Well, at least we thought she did.
“Jersey,” shouted my husband, walking into the unattended kitchen.
“Look what she did,” he said, pointing to the counter.
Within seconds, she had cleaned out three quarters of the dish.
Nmian, nmian, nmiam.
Braised Cabbage (Adapted from Alice Waters)
1 Savoy cabbage, quartered, cored and thickly sliced
freshly ground sea salt
freshly ground pepper
olive oil
thyme
minced garlic
a bottle of beer
2 bay leaves
cup of warm water
Butter to taste
Discard the outside leaves before preparing the cabbage and seasoning with salt and pepper. Heat two tablespoons of olive oil and brown the seasoned cabbage. Brown it until it begins to get soft. Add the beer, bay leaf, thyme and garlic. Simmer covered until the beer gets absorbed. Add water and cook until soft. Flavor with butter.
Warning: Do not leave within counter-surfing reach of a hungry Portuguese water dog.
I can’t believe the @#$% ate our party food. Note to our dinner party hosts: We made a second batch. Promise.
What are your cabbage, seasonal cooking or counter-surfing dog stories?
A nice read, Sheila1! And I plan on making the recipe — and keeping it away from any canines!
Thanks, Miss Caren! Smacz nego!
While I was out shopping and gone for no longer than an hour, my counter surfing boxer dragged a pan of ravioli and spaghetti sauce off the stove. There was splatter on all four walls of the kitchen when I came home, the pan was licked clean to the point that it looked like it just came out of the dishwasher, and the dog was sitting there, white snout fur died a lovely shade of tomato.
Meg,
Smart boxer! What a scene it must have been.
Dyed*
Sheila,
Your braised cabbage looks delicious! Too bad Jersey thought so, too.
Our yellow lab Sofie is also a notorious scavenger, but she tends toward the sweet, not savory. Her worst counter-surfing encounter resulted in the consumption of three quarters of a birthday cake and the breaking of a pedastaled cake plate. Oh, it’s a good thing we love our canine companions!
I have a cabbage dish that I love to serve around the holidays. This year I am roasting a Christmas Goose and one of the side dishes will be “Rotkohl” (German red cabbage) from a recipe by Jeff Smith, The Frugal Gourmet (in his book “Our Immigrant Ancestors.”) I am descended from German immigrants on my maternal grandfather’s side, and occasionally, I love recreating authentic German dishes. (On Christmas Eve, we will have Sour Mushroom Soup from a recipe passed down through this side of the family.)
Here’s the “Rotkohl” recipe:
6 slices bacon, diced
1 yellow onion, peeled and sliced
2 heads fresh red cabbage, sliced (about 3 pounds total)
3 apples, cored and thinly sliced (do not peel)
1 cup chicken stock
4 Tbsp red wine
4 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
4 Tbsp dark brown sugar
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
In a stove-top covered casserole, sauté the bacon until clear. Add the onion and sliced cabbage to the pot, along with the apples. Sauté uncovered until the cabbage begins to collapse. Add the remaining ingredients and cover. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally until all is tender, about 1 hour.
Jody,
The Rotkohl sounds delicious. Kohlrabbe (sp?) must be a related word, eh? And of course I remember Jeff Smith. My mom was a big fan of his.
As for your Sofie, oh, I would have been heart broken had anyone, even four-legged, broken cake stand. Ah, pet parenthood…
Smacz nego and wesolych swiat!
Bad Jersey. Smart Jersey. It sounds delicious Sheila. Merry Christmas to you, Lech and the mischievous Jersey. xo
Thanks, Miss Lisa. Merry Christmas to you, your dad and all the kids back in Manhattan and beyond. xo