Confession: I am a cabbage lover. Steamed, stuffed leaves; shredded in slaw (not too runny); pickled in a jar; fermented as kraut. Even raw, finely shredded in a salad, is nice. One of my all-time favorite dishes is Halushki: fried noodles, onion and cabbage (a Polish Christmas Eve dinner specialty).
The last day of the Farmers Market in town was September 28. It’s a very small market – only about 10 stalls in a little parking lot near the main intersection. I can walk to it, which makes me feel very European. I bring a cheap, bright-red messenger-style bag I got as a freebie from a volunteer dinner, and load it up with all sorts of fabulously fresh stuff.
On the 28th, one of the vendors had Brussels sprouts. Two weeks earlier, I got a lovely head of cabbage from the same vendor. Because it’s all so fresh is lasts much longer than grocery store produce. So I’ve been enjoying it right up until this past Sunday when I said farewell to mes petit choux.
Some of the sprouts were a little big, so before steaming them for dinner the other night, I sliced them in half and the graduation of color from the white core, to the young yellow leaves, and finally the grown-up green leaves is so smooth you can scarcely see the change. A nice little cabbage (or big) is a very pretty thing. Yes pretty. Take some time to admire the cabbages my friends.
2 comments:
Glad you explained - I thought the cabbage was wreaking havoc on your digestive system!
I suppose admiring the appearance of cabbages is OK, but eating them? NO WAY!! ICKY ICKY ICKY!!
Actaully there was more to the story, but I like to keep posts short. The last line of the haiku did indeed refer to a less pleasant aspect of cabbage consumption. It's good stuff though, Jenn. I bet I could convert you with the right dish.
Post a Comment