All persons are created equal and it is our moral obligation to create a world in which we all may flourish. The same does not hold true for all vegetables. For example: celery. Gardeners who wish to retain their sanity should throw it on the compost, or spend seasons in service to a fussy, thirsty twig that has just two culinary ends: “a stiff and watery stalk that splinters into a thousand tangled splinters, or a brown and flaccid, steaming mush-corpse bristling with tender hairs.”
Cabbage, on the other hand, is a boss among brassica. It’s not much of a bother to cultivate, and the only bother its big head presents to the cook is that of overwhelming choice. Oh, cabbage. Shall you be pickled, or shall you become raw slaw? Will I wed you to pork, your perennial partner, or shall you permit me to whisper your name in Italian then use you as edible gift wrap for cavolo ripieno, AKA cabbage rolls.
Now, a word or two on cultivation. (Paragraphs on cultivation may be found here.) Far be it from me – a person whose kitchen garden is currently host to just one ailing rosemary plant and a thousand thriving weeds – to say: “Harvesting cabbage is a joy unrivalled in the heavenly afterlife or at any time on Earth.” If this were true, I would have prepared my soil and not merely rented it out for the season to a family of monster rats.
Cabbage "is a boss among brassica". (Sharyn Cairns) Source: Sharyn Cairns
I will say, though, that (a) it is now time to plant out seedlings of several headed cabbage varieties – sadly, this excludes wombok, AKA Chinese or Napa cabbage – and (b) a time of conflict with cabbage bugs can be quite gripping in the Game of Thrones style. I’m not suggesting that you cry, “Winter is coming!” as you buy a private army of good bugs then set these upon marauders in your backyard kingdom. I’m merely pointing out that any act of veg cultivation is also an act of war. So, while growing a Savoy or a Red Dutch – reds, in my experience, are more resistant to bugs – may not save you a great deal of cash, this may save you from the frustrations of everyday life.
It’s not much of a bother to cultivate, and the only bother its big head presents to the cook is that of overwhelming choice.
What will save you cash, however, is the cultivation of kale. If you must eat this leaf cabbage, you must consider growing it. If we exclude nasturtium, I have never set any seed in poor soil more determined to grow than Tuscan kale, AKA black or lacinato kale. I personally find it indigestible in all but minestrone form, but this is likely due to my own gastronomic failure. If you are a green smoothie habitué, it is a failure of frugality not to grow the eminently growable kale – you may even grow a dwarf blue variety indoors.
Goodness. We have come perilously close here to kale mockery. As you know, jokes made at the expense of kale were declared legally unfunny in 2012, and one may as well try to extract a drop more humour from the smashed avocado. You like kale, declare it widely. It is a cabbage, after all.
Cabbage is an extraordinary veg, having found its hardy way into fields of all nations and the repertoires of all cooks. In many of its cultivated forms, it is nutritious, versatile and given to preservation. In its long history of cultivation, it has given life to many and is considered a “famine food”. My Irish ancestors depended upon it for their survival when British invaders starved them. Today in other nations where food scarcity is imposed, pickled cabbage continues its important work.
Cabbage goes well with pork, its "perennial partner". (Sharyn Cairns) Source: Sharyn Cairns
If we are, all of us, to flourish, let us praise, slice and braise this flourishing crop.
Helen Razer is your frugal food enthusiast, guiding you to the good eats, minus the pretension and price tag in her weekly Friday column, Cheap Tart. Don't miss her next instalment, follow her on Twitter @HelenRazer.
