The Cabbage has been a staple vegetable for humans for millenia. We probably domesticated the wild form well over two thousand years ago, which has given us plenty of time to develop the different varieties from which we can now choose. The one I want to focus on today red cabbage.
As you well know, red cabbage is the litmus vegetable of the garden and kitchen – turning bluish if it is grown or cooked at the alkaline end of the pH spectrum, and red if it senses an acidic environment. This ability is due to the presence of one of the flavinoid pigments called anthocyanins – the same pigments that give the red colour to blood oranges, red apples, and autumn foliage, and which may well act as powerful anti-oxidants when we eat red foods.
Blue food on the other hand is not ‘natural’ to humans, probably because there are no really, truly blue foods in nature – only a few at the purplish (reddish) or blackish end of the spectrum such as blueberries and blackberries. Truly blue food is therefore quite repellent to humans – a fact exploited by the famous film-maker and practical joker Alfred Hitchcock when he held his legendary ‘Blue Dinner’ for some selected industry guests. And it is the reason why recipes for red cabbage almost always include a little vinegar or other acid, as this ensures the desirable red does not become disgusting blue in the cooking process.
As promised yesterday, my recipe inspiration this week is coming from Adam's Luxury and Eve's Cookery, or, the Kitchen-Garden display’d, published in 1744. Amongst its cabbage offering, this book has three methods for stuffing the vegetable – I don’t know of any modern or celebrity cook books that include that number for stuffed cabbage - but I digress. The red cabbage recipe is my focus today, and a fine one-pot dish this book recommends too, and ideal for a winter night or your slow-cooker. The ‘gravy’ referred to probably means meat broth, not the thickened ‘sauce’ that the word usually refers to today. The touch I like is that not just any vinegar is added at the end to preserve the colour and give the dish an edge, but elder-flower vinegar is specified.
To Stew Red Cabbage.
Cut your cabbage very fine, and stew it with Gravy, Sausages, and Ham, and season it with Pepper and Salt. Before you serve it, put in a little Elder-Vinegar, and mix it well together.
Quotation for the Day.
Botany, n. The science of vegetables - those that are not good to eat, as well as those that are. It deals largely with their flowers, which are commonly badly designed, inartistic in color, and ill-smelling.
Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914) 'The Devil's Dictionary' (1911)
Showing posts with label cabbage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cabbage. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Friday, August 20, 2010
Cabbage Delights.
I wanted to end ‘cabbage week’ with something really wild, but I cannot think of anything more outrageous than Sauerkraut Cake, which we have had before. Rumour has it that there is a chocolate cabbage cake ‘out there’ somewhere, but I cannot find it, and if it exists, it is probably not historical enough to qualify for this blog.
There are ‘cakes’ and there are ‘cakes’ of course. Here is another version, quite suitable for luncheon, I would think.
Cabbage Cake.
One cooked cabbage, cold; 1 tablespoonful butter, 1 well-beaten egg, salt, hard-boiled egg as a garnishing, hot water or milk, red pepper.
Run the cooked cabbage through the colander, using a wooden spoon, adding a little freshly boiled water or milk, if necessary; add the butter, egg, salt, and a touch of red pepper. Bake for 20 minutes in a buttered dish, and serve in a cake on a flat platter. A garnishing of hard-boiled egg adds, but is not essential.
The Winnipeg Free Press, January 29, 1916
And if it is cake today,why not pudding tomorrow?
Cabbage Pudding.
Take one pound of beef suet, and as much of the lean part of a leg of veal. Then take a little cabbage well washed, and scald it. Bruise the suet, veal, and cabbage together in a marble mortar, and season it with mace, nutmeg, ginger, and a little pepper and salt, and put in some green gooseberries, grapes, or barberries. Mix them all well with the yolks of four or five eggs well beaten. Wrap all up together in a green cabbage leaf, and tie it in a cloth. It will take about an hour boiling.
Modern Domestic Cookery, and Useful Receipt Book, Adapted for Families in the Middling Genteel Ranks of Life , by William Augustus Henderson, (New York, 1828.)
Finally, something not outrageous, but surely interesting, is the following recipe from another of those wonderful WW II leaflets.
Cheese and Cabbage Spread.
1 oz. cheese, finely grated
1 oz. cabbage, finely shredded
Salt and pepper
1 teaspoon onion finely chopped
1 tablespoon vinegar.
Mix all ingredients together and use in sandwiches.
Food Facts No 261, July 1945
Quotation for the Day.
The cabbage surpasses all other vegetables. If, at a banquet, you wish to dine a lot and enjoy your dinner, then eat as much cabbage as you wish, seasoned with vinegar, before dinner, and likewise after dinner eat some half-dozen leaves. It will make you feel as if you had not eaten, and you can drink as much as you like.
Cato (Marcus Porcius) 234-149 BC.
There are ‘cakes’ and there are ‘cakes’ of course. Here is another version, quite suitable for luncheon, I would think.
Cabbage Cake.
One cooked cabbage, cold; 1 tablespoonful butter, 1 well-beaten egg, salt, hard-boiled egg as a garnishing, hot water or milk, red pepper.
Run the cooked cabbage through the colander, using a wooden spoon, adding a little freshly boiled water or milk, if necessary; add the butter, egg, salt, and a touch of red pepper. Bake for 20 minutes in a buttered dish, and serve in a cake on a flat platter. A garnishing of hard-boiled egg adds, but is not essential.
The Winnipeg Free Press, January 29, 1916
And if it is cake today,why not pudding tomorrow?
Cabbage Pudding.
Take one pound of beef suet, and as much of the lean part of a leg of veal. Then take a little cabbage well washed, and scald it. Bruise the suet, veal, and cabbage together in a marble mortar, and season it with mace, nutmeg, ginger, and a little pepper and salt, and put in some green gooseberries, grapes, or barberries. Mix them all well with the yolks of four or five eggs well beaten. Wrap all up together in a green cabbage leaf, and tie it in a cloth. It will take about an hour boiling.
Modern Domestic Cookery, and Useful Receipt Book, Adapted for Families in the Middling Genteel Ranks of Life , by William Augustus Henderson, (New York, 1828.)
Finally, something not outrageous, but surely interesting, is the following recipe from another of those wonderful WW II leaflets.
Cheese and Cabbage Spread.
1 oz. cheese, finely grated
1 oz. cabbage, finely shredded
Salt and pepper
1 teaspoon onion finely chopped
1 tablespoon vinegar.
Mix all ingredients together and use in sandwiches.
Food Facts No 261, July 1945
Quotation for the Day.
The cabbage surpasses all other vegetables. If, at a banquet, you wish to dine a lot and enjoy your dinner, then eat as much cabbage as you wish, seasoned with vinegar, before dinner, and likewise after dinner eat some half-dozen leaves. It will make you feel as if you had not eaten, and you can drink as much as you like.
Cato (Marcus Porcius) 234-149 BC.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Creative Cabbage.
I had a mind to make leftover cabbage the subject of today’s post, but, really, why would you consider anything else when you can make Bubble and Squeak?
Instead, I decided to find a few more unusual uses for this wonderful vegetable. The English journalist and food writer Ambrose Heath (1891-1969) has singlehandedly given me the recipes for the day. Heath was a very prolific and entertaining writer, with over a hundred original works or translations to his credit. Today’s recipes for ‘out-of-the-way fashions of cooking cabbage’ are from an article he wrote for the Manchester Guardian in December 1932 (the names of the dishes are mine, as Heath simply explained the methods.) As it turns out, the first two do use cooked cabbage, so at a pinch, leftover boiled cabbage would work.
Cabbage Purée.
If a cabbage must be boiled, then it might be turned at the last into a purée, as follows. Chop up the cooked cabbage finely, and pass it through a sieve. Make a white roux in a saucepan with a tablespoonful of butter and the same of flour, add the cabbage seasoned with salt and pepper, and mix in a couple of tablespoonfuls of vinegar. Stir this over the fire for ten minutes, and garnish it, if you like, with circles of hard-boiled egg.
Cabbage and Cheese.
When it is cooked, it can also be served pleasantly with cheese. Drain it carefully, and shred it as finely as you can. Lay the shreds in a well-buttered fireproof dish and sprinkle them with grated cheese. Add a few small pieces of butter, pour a little cream over, and cook in the oven for half an hour.
My final choices from the article are introduced by Heath introduces with the words “The Americans have two ways of serving cabbage, to be eaten hot or cold, which are rather interesting.”
Cabbage with Egg.
This is the hot one. Shred up the best leaves of a cabbage, omitting the outer leaves and the heart, and put them into a frying-pan in which you have first melted an ounce of butter and then added a couple of tablespoonfuls of boiling water to it. Season with pepper and salt, and cook it gently until the cabbage is tender. Then add a well-beaten egg, continuing cooking slowly (stirring well) for about three minutes, pour in a small cupful of sour cream, heat well through, and serve at once.
Cold Cabbage Dish.
The cold version is made this way. Shred the whole of the cabbage, except the stalk and outer leaves. Melt half an ounce of butter in a frying-pan, and add to it a quarter of a pint of vinegar; when this is warm, put in the cabbage, seasoned with salt and some celery seed or salt. Mix in a tablespoonful of flour and cook gently for a few minutes only. Now add a lightly beaten egg, and cook for a few minutes longer, mixing it well together. Resist the temptation to eat it hot, and wait till it is cold.
Quotation for the Day.
“Like warmed-up cabbage served at each repast, The repetition kills the wretch at last”
Juvenal
Instead, I decided to find a few more unusual uses for this wonderful vegetable. The English journalist and food writer Ambrose Heath (1891-1969) has singlehandedly given me the recipes for the day. Heath was a very prolific and entertaining writer, with over a hundred original works or translations to his credit. Today’s recipes for ‘out-of-the-way fashions of cooking cabbage’ are from an article he wrote for the Manchester Guardian in December 1932 (the names of the dishes are mine, as Heath simply explained the methods.) As it turns out, the first two do use cooked cabbage, so at a pinch, leftover boiled cabbage would work.
Cabbage Purée.
If a cabbage must be boiled, then it might be turned at the last into a purée, as follows. Chop up the cooked cabbage finely, and pass it through a sieve. Make a white roux in a saucepan with a tablespoonful of butter and the same of flour, add the cabbage seasoned with salt and pepper, and mix in a couple of tablespoonfuls of vinegar. Stir this over the fire for ten minutes, and garnish it, if you like, with circles of hard-boiled egg.
Cabbage and Cheese.
When it is cooked, it can also be served pleasantly with cheese. Drain it carefully, and shred it as finely as you can. Lay the shreds in a well-buttered fireproof dish and sprinkle them with grated cheese. Add a few small pieces of butter, pour a little cream over, and cook in the oven for half an hour.
My final choices from the article are introduced by Heath introduces with the words “The Americans have two ways of serving cabbage, to be eaten hot or cold, which are rather interesting.”
Cabbage with Egg.
This is the hot one. Shred up the best leaves of a cabbage, omitting the outer leaves and the heart, and put them into a frying-pan in which you have first melted an ounce of butter and then added a couple of tablespoonfuls of boiling water to it. Season with pepper and salt, and cook it gently until the cabbage is tender. Then add a well-beaten egg, continuing cooking slowly (stirring well) for about three minutes, pour in a small cupful of sour cream, heat well through, and serve at once.
Cold Cabbage Dish.
The cold version is made this way. Shred the whole of the cabbage, except the stalk and outer leaves. Melt half an ounce of butter in a frying-pan, and add to it a quarter of a pint of vinegar; when this is warm, put in the cabbage, seasoned with salt and some celery seed or salt. Mix in a tablespoonful of flour and cook gently for a few minutes only. Now add a lightly beaten egg, and cook for a few minutes longer, mixing it well together. Resist the temptation to eat it hot, and wait till it is cold.
Quotation for the Day.
“Like warmed-up cabbage served at each repast, The repetition kills the wretch at last”
Juvenal
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Wartime Cabbage.
Cabbage was a great mainstay for the British housewife during World War II. It was home-grown – sometimes literally, in garden beds and allotments – it stored well, and it was very useful to ‘bulk-up’ other dishes.
Cabbage featured in many of the Ministry of Food’s Food Facts leaflets. Nutrition being at the forefront of the Ministry’s attention, a great deal of effort went into persuading the housewife to give up her grandmother’s method of ‘cooking cabbage in chunks … for half an hour or more … until it becomes soggy … colourless, and tasteless … ’, a method which also caused a lot of its goodness (especially its Vitamin C) to be boiled away.
The Ministry advised in several of their leaflets that instead, ‘Shredding is the secret of delicious cabbage’. One leaflet included a strip ‘cartoon’ story featuring grandma learning a thing or two about cabbage cookery from her granddaughter (who had learned it from the Ministry’s leaflets), and another included a helpful little rhyme about the technique (see the Quotation for the Day.)
I have chosen two recipes for you today from the Ministry of Food’s leaflets. The first is for red cabbage, from December 1942, the second is from March 1943 and is for a substantial side-dish or vegetarian main dish with a very puzzling name.
RED CABBAGE.
Try cooking it this way. Slice 2 lb. cabbage finely with a knife. Put into a saucepan with a cupful of boiling water and cook for 20 minutes with the lid on. Just before serving, drain, add 1 tablespoonful mixed lemon substitute, a teaspoonful of sugar, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and shake well.
PORTMAN CABBAGE.
1 cabbage (shredded)
1 leek, chopped,
¾ pint boiling water
1 oz. flour
1 teaspoon dry mustard
3 oz. grated cheese
2 tablespoons vinegar
2 eggs (reconstituted)
Salt and pepper
A little chopped parsley.
Method: Cook cabbage and leek in the boiling salted water until tender (10 to 15 minutes). Drain, and keep cabbage hot. Blend flour and mustard with a little milk, and add to the liquid from the cabbage. Boil up, add cheese and vinegar. Stir in the eggs and seasoning. Stir until the sauce thickens, but do not boil. Pour over the cabbage, sprinkle with parsley. Serve with potatoes, sautéed if possible.
Quotation for the Day.
Don’t waste fuel
On a vegetabuel
It’s more to your credit
To shred it.
Ministry of Food’s Food Facts No. 128
Cabbage featured in many of the Ministry of Food’s Food Facts leaflets. Nutrition being at the forefront of the Ministry’s attention, a great deal of effort went into persuading the housewife to give up her grandmother’s method of ‘cooking cabbage in chunks … for half an hour or more … until it becomes soggy … colourless, and tasteless … ’, a method which also caused a lot of its goodness (especially its Vitamin C) to be boiled away.
The Ministry advised in several of their leaflets that instead, ‘Shredding is the secret of delicious cabbage’. One leaflet included a strip ‘cartoon’ story featuring grandma learning a thing or two about cabbage cookery from her granddaughter (who had learned it from the Ministry’s leaflets), and another included a helpful little rhyme about the technique (see the Quotation for the Day.)
I have chosen two recipes for you today from the Ministry of Food’s leaflets. The first is for red cabbage, from December 1942, the second is from March 1943 and is for a substantial side-dish or vegetarian main dish with a very puzzling name.
RED CABBAGE.
Try cooking it this way. Slice 2 lb. cabbage finely with a knife. Put into a saucepan with a cupful of boiling water and cook for 20 minutes with the lid on. Just before serving, drain, add 1 tablespoonful mixed lemon substitute, a teaspoonful of sugar, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and shake well.
PORTMAN CABBAGE.
1 cabbage (shredded)
1 leek, chopped,
¾ pint boiling water
1 oz. flour
1 teaspoon dry mustard
3 oz. grated cheese
2 tablespoons vinegar
2 eggs (reconstituted)
Salt and pepper
A little chopped parsley.
Method: Cook cabbage and leek in the boiling salted water until tender (10 to 15 minutes). Drain, and keep cabbage hot. Blend flour and mustard with a little milk, and add to the liquid from the cabbage. Boil up, add cheese and vinegar. Stir in the eggs and seasoning. Stir until the sauce thickens, but do not boil. Pour over the cabbage, sprinkle with parsley. Serve with potatoes, sautéed if possible.
Quotation for the Day.
Don’t waste fuel
On a vegetabuel
It’s more to your credit
To shred it.
Ministry of Food’s Food Facts No. 128
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Bubble and Squeak.
‘Bubble and Squeak’ is an English dish originally made up of “meat and cabbage fried up together.” Nowadays the meat is often replaced with potatoes – which makes it the same as the Irish traditional favourite of Colcannon.
The supporting quotations in the Oxford English Dictionary demonstrate this change from a rather fine way of using up thinly sliced cold roast beef to an equally fine (in a very different sort of way) method of using up leftover cooked cabbage and other vegetables. The first quotation cited for the actual dish is in 1772 but there are earlier references to the figurative use of the phrase, so the dish was undoubtedly being made well before this time.
There is a fine example of metaphorical ‘Bubble and Squeak’ and eighteenth century wit in an article in The Mid-Wife: or, the old woman’s magazine, by Christopher Smart, 1753 - which is certainly not a cookery magazine.
Take of Beef, Mutton, or Lamb, or Veal, or any other Meat, two Pounds and an half, or any other Quantity; let it lay in Salt, till the saline Particles have lock’d up all the Juices of the Animal, and render’d the Fibres too hard to be digested; then boil it over a Turf or Peat Fire, in a Brass Kettle cover’d with a Copper Lid, till it is much done. Then take Cabbage (that which is most windy, and capable of producing the greatest Report) and boil it in a Bell-Metal Pot till it is done enough, or if you think proper, till it is done too much. Then slice the Beef, and souse that and the Cabbage both in a Frying-Pan together, and let it bubble and squeak over a Charcoal Fire, for half an Hour, three Minutes, and two Seconds. Then eat a Quantum sufficit, or two Pounds and a half, and after it drink sixteen Pints of fat Ale, smoak, sleep, snoar, belch, and forget your Book.
MARY MIDNIGHT.
It is generally accepted that the name of the dish comes from the sizzling noise as it cooks in the frying pan, as is poetically explained in our quotation for the day, below. The poets have not been silent on the matter of Bubble and Squeak . Lord Byron (1788-1824), no less, mentions it in Don Juan, Canto XV:
Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,
The salmi, the consommé, the purée,
All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber
Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way:
I must not introduce even a spare rib here,
"Bubble and squeak" would spoil my liquid lay:
But I have dined, and must forego, Alas!
The chaste description even of a "bécasse;"
And Robert Browning (1812-1889) too, referred to it in Holy-Cross Day:
Fee, faw, fum! bubble and squeak!
Blessedest Thursday's the fat of the week.
Rumble and tumble, sleek and rough,
Stinking and savoury, smug and gruff,
Take the church-road, for the bell's due chime
Gives us the summons - 'tis sermon-time!
As for recipes for Bubble and Squeak, the OED itself provides one (and is therefore a candidate then for my collection of ‘recipes from unusual sources’)
1881 Leicester. Gloss. (E.D.S.) Bubble-and-squeak, slices of underdone beef fried and seasoned, laid on cabbage, boiled, strained, chopped, and fried in dripping.
Note: this recipe uses fresh (not previously cooked) cabbage, and slices of underdone [roast] beef – not leftover cabbage and potatoes. The following recipe is earlier, but is essentially the same.
Bubble and Squeak.
Boil, chop, and fry, with a little butter, pepper, and salt, some cabbage, and lay on it slices of underdone beef, lightly fried.
A New System of Domestic Cookery, formed upon principles of economy …, by Maria Rundell, 1833
Quotation for the Day.
What mortals Bubble call and Squeak,
When midst the Frying-pan in accents savage,
The Beef so surly quarrels with the Cabbage.
Peter Pindar Wolcott (1738-1819)
The supporting quotations in the Oxford English Dictionary demonstrate this change from a rather fine way of using up thinly sliced cold roast beef to an equally fine (in a very different sort of way) method of using up leftover cooked cabbage and other vegetables. The first quotation cited for the actual dish is in 1772 but there are earlier references to the figurative use of the phrase, so the dish was undoubtedly being made well before this time.
There is a fine example of metaphorical ‘Bubble and Squeak’ and eighteenth century wit in an article in The Mid-Wife: or, the old woman’s magazine, by Christopher Smart, 1753 - which is certainly not a cookery magazine.
LECTURE IN COOKERY.
LECTURE the first. Which contains the Art of making BUBBLE AND SQUEAK for Supper. Published at the Request of the Gentlemen of both Universities.
Take of Beef, Mutton, or Lamb, or Veal, or any other Meat, two Pounds and an half, or any other Quantity; let it lay in Salt, till the saline Particles have lock’d up all the Juices of the Animal, and render’d the Fibres too hard to be digested; then boil it over a Turf or Peat Fire, in a Brass Kettle cover’d with a Copper Lid, till it is much done. Then take Cabbage (that which is most windy, and capable of producing the greatest Report) and boil it in a Bell-Metal Pot till it is done enough, or if you think proper, till it is done too much. Then slice the Beef, and souse that and the Cabbage both in a Frying-Pan together, and let it bubble and squeak over a Charcoal Fire, for half an Hour, three Minutes, and two Seconds. Then eat a Quantum sufficit, or two Pounds and a half, and after it drink sixteen Pints of fat Ale, smoak, sleep, snoar, belch, and forget your Book.
MARY MIDNIGHT.
It is generally accepted that the name of the dish comes from the sizzling noise as it cooks in the frying pan, as is poetically explained in our quotation for the day, below. The poets have not been silent on the matter of Bubble and Squeak . Lord Byron (1788-1824), no less, mentions it in Don Juan, Canto XV:
Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,
The salmi, the consommé, the purée,
All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber
Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way:
I must not introduce even a spare rib here,
"Bubble and squeak" would spoil my liquid lay:
But I have dined, and must forego, Alas!
The chaste description even of a "bécasse;"
And Robert Browning (1812-1889) too, referred to it in Holy-Cross Day:
Fee, faw, fum! bubble and squeak!
Blessedest Thursday's the fat of the week.
Rumble and tumble, sleek and rough,
Stinking and savoury, smug and gruff,
Take the church-road, for the bell's due chime
Gives us the summons - 'tis sermon-time!
As for recipes for Bubble and Squeak, the OED itself provides one (and is therefore a candidate then for my collection of ‘recipes from unusual sources’)
1881 Leicester. Gloss. (E.D.S.) Bubble-and-squeak, slices of underdone beef fried and seasoned, laid on cabbage, boiled, strained, chopped, and fried in dripping.
Note: this recipe uses fresh (not previously cooked) cabbage, and slices of underdone [roast] beef – not leftover cabbage and potatoes. The following recipe is earlier, but is essentially the same.
Bubble and Squeak.
Boil, chop, and fry, with a little butter, pepper, and salt, some cabbage, and lay on it slices of underdone beef, lightly fried.
A New System of Domestic Cookery, formed upon principles of economy …, by Maria Rundell, 1833
Quotation for the Day.
What mortals Bubble call and Squeak,
When midst the Frying-pan in accents savage,
The Beef so surly quarrels with the Cabbage.
Peter Pindar Wolcott (1738-1819)
Monday, August 16, 2010
Considering Cabbage.
This week I have set myself a little challenge – to see if I can keep you interested over a whole week of posts on the topic of cabbage.
The cabbage is not a glamorous (artichokes, perhaps?) or sexy (truffles, asparagus?) or fun vegetable ((as potatoes can be), but it is ancient, useful, adaptable, and worthy of respect. The name is old, and is derived from the Latin caput for ‘head’, which is self-explanatory. Botanically speaking an ‘ordinary’ cabbage is “a plane-leaved cultivated variety of Brassica oleracea, the unexpanded leaves of which form a compact globular heart or head.” The specifics of ‘plane-leaved’ and ‘compact globular heart or head’ are important, for as we have seen in a previous post, the full gamut of cabbage, broccoli, kale, collard greens, kohlrabi, and Brussels sprouts (and others) are simply different cultivars of the same Brassica oleracea. See what I mean about being adaptable?
The cabbage is also adaptable to many different sorts of recipes, as I hope to show you this week. To start with, I want to consider this most ancient and adaptable vegetable it in that most ancient and adaptable dish – soup. We have had recipes for cabbage soup in previous stories – a Russian version from 1862, and three versions from the same cookery book published in 1907 – but I say there is always room for another good soup recipe.
A very early recipe for cabbage soup appears in The Forme of Cury, the manuscript cookery book compiled in about 1390 by the Master Cooks of King Richard II. The dish of cabbage, minced onions, and leeks cooked in a good broth and spiced with saffron and other spices would be just as acceptable today, and proves that there is no expiry date on a good idea.
Caboches in Potage.
Take Caboches and quarter hem and seeth hem in gode broth with Oynouns y minced and the whyte of Lekes y slyt and corue smale, and do thereto safroun an salt and force it with powder douce.
My translation: take cabbages, and quarter them, and simmer them in good broth with minced onions and leeks sliced and chopped small, and add saffron, and salt, and sweet spices.
Quotation for the Day.
“Having a good wife and rich cabbage soup, seek not other things”
Russian Proverb.
The cabbage is not a glamorous (artichokes, perhaps?) or sexy (truffles, asparagus?) or fun vegetable ((as potatoes can be), but it is ancient, useful, adaptable, and worthy of respect. The name is old, and is derived from the Latin caput for ‘head’, which is self-explanatory. Botanically speaking an ‘ordinary’ cabbage is “a plane-leaved cultivated variety of Brassica oleracea, the unexpanded leaves of which form a compact globular heart or head.” The specifics of ‘plane-leaved’ and ‘compact globular heart or head’ are important, for as we have seen in a previous post, the full gamut of cabbage, broccoli, kale, collard greens, kohlrabi, and Brussels sprouts (and others) are simply different cultivars of the same Brassica oleracea. See what I mean about being adaptable?
The cabbage is also adaptable to many different sorts of recipes, as I hope to show you this week. To start with, I want to consider this most ancient and adaptable vegetable it in that most ancient and adaptable dish – soup. We have had recipes for cabbage soup in previous stories – a Russian version from 1862, and three versions from the same cookery book published in 1907 – but I say there is always room for another good soup recipe.
A very early recipe for cabbage soup appears in The Forme of Cury, the manuscript cookery book compiled in about 1390 by the Master Cooks of King Richard II. The dish of cabbage, minced onions, and leeks cooked in a good broth and spiced with saffron and other spices would be just as acceptable today, and proves that there is no expiry date on a good idea.
Caboches in Potage.
Take Caboches and quarter hem and seeth hem in gode broth with Oynouns y minced and the whyte of Lekes y slyt and corue smale, and do thereto safroun an salt and force it with powder douce.
My translation: take cabbages, and quarter them, and simmer them in good broth with minced onions and leeks sliced and chopped small, and add saffron, and salt, and sweet spices.
Quotation for the Day.
“Having a good wife and rich cabbage soup, seek not other things”
Russian Proverb.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Cabbage anyone?
When I am onto an interesting source, I do find it hard to move on, as regular readers probably realise (and to be truthful, in busy weeks it helps maintain the commitment to a story a day!) We have had some interesting snippets this last week from the mid-nineteenth century English monthly magazine, The Family Economist. I don’t want to bore you, but I must give you one more recipe from it before I put it (temporarily) aside.
A recipe for Cabbage Jelly caught my eye, while falling well short of tempting my tastebuds, – until I read the recipe properly. I was expecting some awful coagulated construction, such as the jellified coleslaw I gave the recipe for some time ago. But actually, I quite like the idea of this dish – and surely it would be excellent done with red cabbage cooked initially according to ‘the usual method’?
Cabbage-Jelly.
A tasty little dish, and by some persons esteemed more wholesome than cabbage simply boiled. Boil cabbage in the usual way, and squeeze in a colander until perfectly dry. Then chop small; add a little butter, pepper, and salt. Press the whole very closely into an earthenware mould, and bake one hour, either in a side oven or in front of the fire; when done, turn it out.
In another publication of similar vintage, the Working Man’s Friend, and Family Instructor, (London, 1850), I found the following recipe. Perhaps moulded vegetables are the next new/old idea?
Potato Medley.
Boil some potatoes, and mash them. Boil, also separately from the potatoes, any greens you may choose – savoys, turnip-tops, or spinach are the best. Press the water well out of them. Then chop them well up, mix with the mashed potatoes, and season with salt, pepper, and butter. Grease a pudding-mould, or shape, press your mixture well into it, and put it into a hot oven for about ten minutes. If you are careful to preserve the green colour of your spinach or turnip tops – which you may do by putting a small quantity of soda into the water – this will make a very pretty dish. If you have not a pudding-mould, a basin will answer the purpose.
N.B. Cold vegetables may be made into a dish in the same way.
Quotation for the Day.
"If you lived on cabbage, you would not be obliged to flatter the powerful." To which the courtier replied, "If you flattered the powerful, you would not be obliged to live upon cabbage."
Diogenes, ancient Greek philosopher’s advice to a young courtier
A recipe for Cabbage Jelly caught my eye, while falling well short of tempting my tastebuds, – until I read the recipe properly. I was expecting some awful coagulated construction, such as the jellified coleslaw I gave the recipe for some time ago. But actually, I quite like the idea of this dish – and surely it would be excellent done with red cabbage cooked initially according to ‘the usual method’?
Cabbage-Jelly.
A tasty little dish, and by some persons esteemed more wholesome than cabbage simply boiled. Boil cabbage in the usual way, and squeeze in a colander until perfectly dry. Then chop small; add a little butter, pepper, and salt. Press the whole very closely into an earthenware mould, and bake one hour, either in a side oven or in front of the fire; when done, turn it out.
In another publication of similar vintage, the Working Man’s Friend, and Family Instructor, (London, 1850), I found the following recipe. Perhaps moulded vegetables are the next new/old idea?
Potato Medley.
Boil some potatoes, and mash them. Boil, also separately from the potatoes, any greens you may choose – savoys, turnip-tops, or spinach are the best. Press the water well out of them. Then chop them well up, mix with the mashed potatoes, and season with salt, pepper, and butter. Grease a pudding-mould, or shape, press your mixture well into it, and put it into a hot oven for about ten minutes. If you are careful to preserve the green colour of your spinach or turnip tops – which you may do by putting a small quantity of soda into the water – this will make a very pretty dish. If you have not a pudding-mould, a basin will answer the purpose.
N.B. Cold vegetables may be made into a dish in the same way.
Quotation for the Day.
"If you lived on cabbage, you would not be obliged to flatter the powerful." To which the courtier replied, "If you flattered the powerful, you would not be obliged to live upon cabbage."
Diogenes, ancient Greek philosopher’s advice to a young courtier
Monday, January 12, 2009
Taking the Life of a Cabbage.
The author of One Thousand Simple Soups (1907) had an utterly fearless approach to making cabbage soup. She argues:
“One who will take the life of a cabbage, need not hesitate at chicken or turkey, for cabbage has life – triumphant, compelling, penetrating life. Any one who lives in a flat may prove it by cooking a cabbage and listening in the court for remarks made by the other tenants. Anything lifeless could never be so forceful and powerful as cabbage even in its last moments.”
I was simply researching soups, and suddenly feel obliged to re-visit the old argument ‘Do plants feel pain? The question and the research surface from time to time - the devoutly carnivorous hoping for irrefutable proof that they do, to flaunt at vegetarians (and especially vegans) to counter one of the common ethical arguments for abstaining from meat. I don’t expect science will have the answer soon – there are so many peripheral arguments to be settled first, like “what is pain?” and “how do we measure it?” and “are plants sentient?” and “can non-sentient organisms experience pain?” and so on.
What about those organisms that are neither plant or animal? The bacteria in your yoghurt? The yeast in your bread? If scientists ultimately decide that yeasts are animals, will that condemn staunch vegetarians to a breadless, beerless life?
While, with your help, I try to puzzle out some of these issues, I give you what I set out to do – some cabbage soup recipes from Olive Green’s book (surely not her real name?).
Cabbage Soup A La Rouennaise
Shred fine two small cabbages and fry brown in plenty of butter, stirring constantly. Drain off the butter, add three quarts of beef stock, cover, and cook slowly for an hour and a half. Cover the bottom of the tureen with thin slices of toasted bread, pour the hot soup over, and serve.
Cabbage Soup With Rice
Select a small, hard cabbage, remove the core, and shred fine. Cut into dice half a pound of salt pork, and fry until brown and crisp. Add two teaspoonfuls of butter and a large onion chopped fine. When the butter is hot, add the shredded cabbage and fry slightly. Add three quarts of beef stock, and two quarts of water, boil for half an hour, add one cupful of well-washed rice, season with salt and pepper, cook until the rice is done, skim, reheat, and serve.
Cabbage And Potato Soup
Core and shred two small green cabbages. Fry brown in a little butter. Add three quarts of beef stock, and one quart of water, cover and cook for one hour. Peel six large potatoes, cut them into dice, add to the soup and cook until the potatoes are done. Cut two small French rolls in thin slices, toast in the oven, put into a soup tureen, pour the hot soup over, and serve.
Quotation for the Day …
Vegetarians are people who cannot hear tomatoes screaming.
Joseph Campbell
“One who will take the life of a cabbage, need not hesitate at chicken or turkey, for cabbage has life – triumphant, compelling, penetrating life. Any one who lives in a flat may prove it by cooking a cabbage and listening in the court for remarks made by the other tenants. Anything lifeless could never be so forceful and powerful as cabbage even in its last moments.”
I was simply researching soups, and suddenly feel obliged to re-visit the old argument ‘Do plants feel pain? The question and the research surface from time to time - the devoutly carnivorous hoping for irrefutable proof that they do, to flaunt at vegetarians (and especially vegans) to counter one of the common ethical arguments for abstaining from meat. I don’t expect science will have the answer soon – there are so many peripheral arguments to be settled first, like “what is pain?” and “how do we measure it?” and “are plants sentient?” and “can non-sentient organisms experience pain?” and so on.
What about those organisms that are neither plant or animal? The bacteria in your yoghurt? The yeast in your bread? If scientists ultimately decide that yeasts are animals, will that condemn staunch vegetarians to a breadless, beerless life?
While, with your help, I try to puzzle out some of these issues, I give you what I set out to do – some cabbage soup recipes from Olive Green’s book (surely not her real name?).
Cabbage Soup A La Rouennaise
Shred fine two small cabbages and fry brown in plenty of butter, stirring constantly. Drain off the butter, add three quarts of beef stock, cover, and cook slowly for an hour and a half. Cover the bottom of the tureen with thin slices of toasted bread, pour the hot soup over, and serve.
Cabbage Soup With Rice
Select a small, hard cabbage, remove the core, and shred fine. Cut into dice half a pound of salt pork, and fry until brown and crisp. Add two teaspoonfuls of butter and a large onion chopped fine. When the butter is hot, add the shredded cabbage and fry slightly. Add three quarts of beef stock, and two quarts of water, boil for half an hour, add one cupful of well-washed rice, season with salt and pepper, cook until the rice is done, skim, reheat, and serve.
Cabbage And Potato Soup
Core and shred two small green cabbages. Fry brown in a little butter. Add three quarts of beef stock, and one quart of water, cover and cook for one hour. Peel six large potatoes, cut them into dice, add to the soup and cook until the potatoes are done. Cut two small French rolls in thin slices, toast in the oven, put into a soup tureen, pour the hot soup over, and serve.
Quotation for the Day …
Vegetarians are people who cannot hear tomatoes screaming.
Joseph Campbell
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Boiled cabbage à l'Anglaise.
Today, April 26th …This day in 1909 was the birthday of columnist William Neil Connor, who wrote as ‘Cassandra’ in the London Daily Mirror for three decades. He took his pseudonym from the name of the beautiful Greek woman given the gift of prophesy by Apollo, who then took away her gift of persuasion when she spurned his advances, dooming her to be forever disbelieved. Mr. Cassandra has only come to my attention via a statement he made concerning cabbage, which may not be prophetic but is hardly to be believed:
‘Boiled cabbage à l'Anglaise is something compared with which steamed coarse newsprint bought from bankrupt Finnish salvage dealers and heated over smoky oil stoves is an exquisite delicacy.’
Here I am again, in defence of ‘English food, properly done’. Mr. Cassandra may have been a non-foodie, a Francophile snob, been force-fed slimy cabbage as a child, been deliberately provocative of his readers, or simply had a bad household cook – but I cannot forgive him for perpetuating this mythical connection between the English and badly cooked cabbage.
Cabbage originated in Northern Europe in ancient times, perhaps or probably from wild sea-kale. Chance and deliberate horticultural intervention eventually produced the familiar tightly balled head from the loose leaves of the kale, and further meddling by humans produced the cabbages we know as broccoli, brussels sprouts, cauliflower, collard greens, kohlrabi, and kale. Mr Cassandra was slighting an impressive dynasty.
John Evelyn in his Acetaria (1699) said 'Tis scarce a hundred years since we first had cabbages out of Holland’, which gives us an idea of its history in English kitchens.
In less than half a century, a lovely book with the great title of Adam’s luxury, and Eve’s cookery; or, the kitchen-garden display’d. (1744) gave detailed planting and growing instructions and medicinal applications (cabbages are Balsamic, Diuretic, prevent Drunkenness …) and then gave a total of eight recipes, all of which sound delicious. The author does specify that cabbages must be well-boiled “to help their digestion in the stomach”, but the actual recipes completely belie the concept of smelly slimy cabbage mush.
Here are my two selections from the eight recipes:
A Ragoo of Cabbage.
Divide a cabbage in the Middle, and blanch it in hot Water; squeeze it, and dtie it round with Pack-thread, and then stew it. When it is stew’d, drain it, untie it, and cut it into little Slices into a Sauce-pan; and let it simmer over the Fire with some Cullis* of Veal and Ham to thicken it. It may be eaten with all Meats boil’d, roast, or stew’d.
To stew Red Cabbage
Cut your Cabbage very fine, and stew it with Gravy, Sausages, and Ham, and season it with Pepper and Salt. Before you serve it up, put in a little Elder-Vinegar**, and mix it well together.
*Cullis = coulis, or reduced broth.
** Vinegar steeped with flowers of the Elder bush (Sambucus nigra).
Tomorrow’s Story …
Arabian Delights.
This Day Last Year ….
Samuel Pepys ate sturgeon.
Quotation for the Day …
Cabbage: a familiar kitchen-garden vegetable about as large and wise as a man's head. Ambrose Bierce
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