Christine McFadden is a cookbook author and closet botanist. Her book Pepper: The spice that changed the world is available in full on ckbk. In this contribution to our Consuming Passions series she explains why cabbage, in all its forms, holds a special fascination.

For me, the squeak and bounce of a crisp firm cabbage induces a mental state close to culinary euphoria. It is one of the sturdiest and most benevolent of vegetables, offering a cornucopia of colours, textures and flavours, and health benefits besides. It is reputedly one of the most nutritionally rich vegetables, packed with cancer-fighting phytochemicals, carotenoids and vitamins. It comes in a rich palette of colours that includes deep emerald greens, royal purples and the palest of creams. Flavours are equally varied, ranging from the peppery lightness of chinese cabbage to the full-on meatiness of the savoy.

Cabbage, in various forms, has been cultivated for about 2,500 years. It was probably brought to Britain by the Romans, who, together with the Ancient Greeks, certainly appreciated its health-giving benefits.

In his enormous scholarly tome The Oxford Companion to Food, the late and learned Alan Davidson notes that the Greeks ‘ascribed the origin of cabbage to the chief of the gods, Zeus, believing that when he was earnestly trying to explain two conflicting prophecies, he worked himself into a sweat and from that sweat sprang cabbage.’ Davidson goes on to remark, ‘There may be some connection here with the strong smell of cooking cabbage.’

In the first edition of On Food and Cooking, Harold McGee discusses the cabbage family in general, and the cabbage itself in-depth. He tells us that the Romans believed it to be a prophylactic against the discomforts of high living, quoting Cato ‘…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.’

My passion for cabbage was ignited decades ago at an evening at The Troc, as my parents called London’s now-closed Trocadero centre. We would traditionally go there for a pre-Christmas dinner. When asked by an intimidating waiter what he would like, my 7-year-old brother calmly requested cabbage. It arrived on a silver platter and was consumed by the two of us with relish. I have continued to enjoy it throughout my teens, twenties and beyond.

My passion has been further amplified by the German publication ‘du: die Zeitschrift der Kultur’. The November 1998 edition is entirely devoted to cabbage: ‘Der Kohl. Das Kraut. Ein Manifest’. In it are in-depth features on cabbage-eaters in central and Eastern Europe, a discussion of kings and cabbages, four recipes from the celebrity chef Anton Mosimann, a photo-essay on sauerkraut production in Gürbetal, Switzerland, and much much more. There is even a give-away packet of cabbage seeds attached to page 73!

My regular visits to London Lebanese supermarket Green Valley have produced yet more passion-inducing moments. There you’ll find gargantuan white cabbages – not round but splendidly squat with smooth pale green leaves – along with crinkled emerald-green savoys and creamy barrel-shaped Chinese cabbages with pleasingly wide stalks.

The cabbage and its relatives

The cabbage is a member of the remarkably diverse Brassica oleracea. Members include brussels sprouts, broccoli and cavalo nero, along with kale, kohlrabi and cauliflower. Luay Ghafari’s book Seed to Table includes an excellent guide to growing this family of vegetable yourself. The cabbage itself is remarkable in that it has a prolonged growing season, and benevolently offers to the cook an exceptionally wide-ranging choice of dishes to make. For example, it can be served raw in salads, steamed or plainly boiled, slowly simmered in a soup or casserole, grilled or roasted, or stir-fried with spices. I particularly like Julie Kleeman and Yeshi Jampa’s recipe for Stir-fried Sweetheart Cabbage in Taste Tibet, which includes both chilli and Sichuan pepper for added punch.

Cabbage can also be stuffed with any number of fillings, or used as a filling itself. For example, it’s a vital component of the filling of many Chinese-style dumplings as in these Pork & Cabbage Dumplings from Terry Tan’s book China.

Though green cabbage is probably the most widely used, red cabbage comes into its own when slowly cooked with onions, apples and port, as in Jill Norman’s Winter Food. A few cranberries thrown in add brilliant nuggets of colour.

Rowley Leigh, author of A Long and Messy Business, is another red cabbage enthusiast. He praises its exuberance, enthusing that his festive side dish of Spiced Red Cabbage will ‘set the goose off to a nicety’.

In The Epicure’s Companion (1937), Edward and Lorna Bunyard somewhat snootily explain that “The red cabbage in England is grown for pickling mainly, and is not, therefore, found in high-class gardens.” While one might take issue with this opinion, there’s no argument that red cabbage does make a fine pickle, whether on its own or in combination, as in this red cabbage and gooseberry pickle from Kiwi chef Peter Gordon, which he recommends as an accompaniment for mackerel, salmon and other oily fish.

Culinary partners

It is hard to imagine the cooking of Hungary, Poland, Ukraine and other Eastern European countries without cabbage. Yurii Pryiemsky’s Braised Cabbage and Mushrooms in his book Recipes from Ukraine and Beef- and Cabbage-Stuffed Croquettes from Marianna Dworak’s Authentic Polish Cooking are good examples of cabbage dishes from the region.

Cabbage is also at home with tropical ingredients. Eleanor Ford pairs it with carrots and coconut in her suggestion for Carrot Thoran as a side dish with Keralan Black Pepper Chicken

Another fan of the cabbage and coconut partnership is flavour guru Nik Sharma, who tells us that as a young child he restricted his vegetable intake to cabbage and potatoes. His weekly favourite was Braised Cabbage with Coconut also known as “cabbage foogath”, in which “slender shavings of cabbage leaves are braised and then finished off with a generous sprinkling of soft fresh coconut”.

Cooking techniques and pitfalls

The rule of thumb for cooking cabbage is a short time for crispness and colour, or very long cooking to bring out sweetness. Anything in between will be dire, resulting in the rank and sulphurous smell that brings back, for those of a certain age, best-forgotten memories of institutional food.

If you’re boiling a cabbage it’s a good idea to do so without a lid, otherwise acids in the steam will gather under the lid and drip onto the leaves below, changing the colour to an unappetising khaki. If you are steaming cabbage you will of course need a lid but it’s a good idea to lift it every so often to allow acid-laden steam to escape.

Roasting cabbage is another option which really concentrates the flavour to the point where it becomes startlingly meaty and sweet. Roasted hispi cabbage has become a fixture on smart restaurant menus in recent years for good reason – for example this Beef Fat Hispi Cabbage, Dripping Breadcrumbs from The Quality Chop House cookbook.

For me, however, there is no simpler and enjoyable dish than lightly steamed hispi cabbage topped with good butter, a few wisps of lemon zest, chopped fresh coriander and a generous grind of white pepper (preferable to black in this case). Spring greens — young, tender cabbage plants which have not yet formed a tight head of leaves — are also excellent served in this way.

Fermentation

Cabbage is a key player in the world of fermentation, i.e. using yeasts, bacteria and moulds to create a chemical change in a vegetable or animal substance. I find the process deeply fascinating – miraculous even – and have enjoyed experimenting with it myself.

In northern and eastern Europe, the most common fermented cabbage product is sauerkraut. It is made by massaging fresh shredded cabbage with salt – a process which draws out the liquid and softens the leaves, which in turn reduces their bulk. Enough water is added to submerge the cabbage. The mixture is then crammed into sterilised jars, tightly sealed and left to ferment for a few days or even up to three weeks, depending on the intended level of saltiness.

Moving round the world to Asia, the Koreans have taken fermentation to a whole new level with their national dish, kimchi. There are up to two hundred varieties, depending on the region and time of year, but they usually have a base of Chinese cabbage or daikon radish. It is the most important side dish on the Korean table eaten with almost every meal. Kimchee is surprisingly simple and satisfying to make at home — Stephanie Thurow includes a recipe for Napa Cabbage Kimchee in Can It & Ferment It.

Kimchi also makes a tasty addition to other dishes, such as stir-fries, noodle dishes and dumplings. It is excellent in pancakes, as Matthew Kenny demonstrates in Plantlab, his vibrant vegan cookbook

The homely cabbage appeals to every one of my senses: hearing, touch, smell, sight and taste. Its squeak and bounce are deeply pleasing, as is the faintly sulphurous smell. It is beautiful to look at, lovely to hold and even better to eat.