Boiled cabbage, that much hated staple of school lunches long past, doled out by chain smoking dinner ladies to lines of students too hungry to care and too browbeaten to protest. Overcooked cabbage, the smell of a thousand tenements, cheaper than potatoes and just as much a staple of the poor. But just like last week’s unlikely hero, the herring, cabbage can be delicious and used in a multitude of unexpected of ways.
Fermented, it turns into sweet acidic sauerkraut in the wooded hills of Alsace and mouth searing kimchi in the humid lowlands of Korea. Braised, it takes to coconut milk, white wine or beer with equal enthusiasm. Raw, it turns into Kohlsalad, or coleslaw, that most refreshing of summer sustenance, which has become a staple of southern soul food. Cabbage can help heal stomach ulcers and cabbage juice is a powerful anti-fungal
agent. A truly multi-talented vegetable if ever there was one.
This time of year, cabbages are everywhere, and seriously cheap. Stacked in crates at farmer’s markets and over ?owing from the tables of corner stores, now is the time to indulge yourself.
For a simple weekday supper, on an evening where the ?rst hint of a suggestion of fall is in the air, shred half a white cabbage as thin as you can get it, then stir fry it with a generous dollop of ?ery Korean chili paste, a clove of garlic and a thumb of ginger, both minced. Finish with a spritz of rice vinegar and a three ?nger pinch of dark brown sugar. Remove from the pan, add fresh chili paste and stir fry the thinly sliced protein of your choice – pork, beef, chicken, prawns or tofu. Serve as an evening meal, with a side of steamed rice and sprinkled with sesame seeds.
But while the days are still hot, take advantage of the fact that cabbage loves few ingredients better than citrus, which lifts it into the realm of simple sophistication. For a wonderfully fresh summer salad, shred a napa cabbage, add slices of grapefruit and dress it all up with a splash of walnut oil and a generous smattering of chopped pecans. Earthy, acidic and sweet, all on one plate.
To slice cabbage, a mandolin comes in handy. But don’t think you need a $300 William and Sanoma monster you’ll never use again. Next time you’ll pass Nella Cucina on Bathhurst or ?nd yourself in Kensington Market, pick up on of these little Japanese models. They’ll set you back between $25.00 and $40.00 (depending on where you’ll buy one) and they’ll be the last, and best, mandolin you’ll ever need.
Scarily sharp, use the included hand-guard, they slice a quarter of cabbage in seconds and process carrots or beets into matchsticks while they’re at it. You’ll see stacks of them in most restaurant kitchens, which is always a good signpost if you’re looking for a tool that works rather than impresses the neighbours.
My favourite cabbage recipes from Fisheye Corporation on Vimeo.
