Marco Canora's Braised Red Cabbage

Last night around 6:30 pm, there was little joy in this small part of the universe as I reclined tensely on my dentist's plastic-covered chair and tasted something bitter (and banana-flavored?) in the back of my throat. With both of Dr. Gordon's hands firmly planted inside my mouth and soft rock on the radio ("Ya like Barry White? No? Ya don't like Barry White? How about Springsteen? Ya like Springsteen?"), I focused on the gray-beige panels of the ceiling, tried to forget about the high-pitched nasal whine of the drill and the disconcerting clink of metal on bone, and thought about dinner.

After all, how better to soothe Novocaine-induced heart palpitations and my jumpy, tender gums nerves?

It'd have to be something relatively simple and relatively quick, I thought, because by the time I made my way from the Upper West Side to Columbus Circle's Whole Foods and then further home to Chelsea, I'd be flirting dangerously with hypoglycemic jitters. Something savory and juicy to ward off the sudden chill, yes. But could it be colorful and healthy, too? It could.

After a whopping $625 bill (oh, you know: annual x-rays, a simple cleaning, and a bit of sealant around an old filling and there go my hopes and dreams for finishing my 2006 Roth IRA contributions, for my travel plans this year, and for calming some of the bone-chilling angst I experience in the middle of the night when the state of my finances wakes me up in a cold sweat), I couldn't afford much beyond two chicken-apple sausages and a five-dollar bottle of Chilean red. With the sausages wrapped neatly and stashed in my bag, I made my gum-numbed way home where a head of red cabbage awaited me and my smarting credit card.

Amanda Hesser cleverly updated an old Craig Claiborne recipe for pork chops with rye stuffing in this weekend's New York Times Magazine, with the additional bonus of a modern-day riff on the dish by Marco Canora of Hearth. While neither pork belly nor pork chops tickled my fancy, it was a different story when I saw Canora's recipe for braised cabbage. It was with this spicy, wintery dish in mind that I'd bought the delicately flavored sausages, and as they warmed to room temperature on the kitchen counter, I sliced my way through a red onion and that hard head of cabbage, almost forgotten in the depths of my fridge.

I've said it before, I'm sure, and I'll say it again. There's nothing quite like cooking to soothe a frazzled mind and body. As a knob of butter melted and fizzed in the pan, and the mise en place around me came into place, I could feel the knots in my shoulders come apart. The onion cooked up gently before the strips of cabbage went into the pan with a sizzle. And then, the pungent cider, the dryish wine, the fragrant caraway and mustard (best pals of the cabbage, those two). I cut a circle with a vent out of my parchment roll and placed it on top of the cabbage (wasn't Julie always complaining about this step? I can't remember, though I did find it a bit of a pain last night. Wouldn't a top have been better? Not that I have one that fits my skillet. So I don't know what my kvetching is about. Self-pity, I believe. Which reminds me, have I told you about my dentist's bill yet?).

While the cabbage simmered and the sausages popped and sizzled quietly in their cast-iron bed and film of broth, I sat on the couch and contemplated my options. After-hours waitressing? Foot fetish modeling? Selling all of my earthly belongings on Ebay? As I started to hyperventilate, Ben showed up just in time to firmly talk me down off the ledge and stroke my hair soothingly in that calming way of his, before oohing and aahing gratefully over the stove and then sitting down at the table with me.

I'll tell you, there's nothing like a simple, square meal and a tall, silly boyfriend to make the world right again. The silky tangles of cabbage were spicy and sweet-sour, oh-so-perfect for a full-forked mouthful along with a slice of mild sausage. The caraway gave the dish real character and strength, while the small shreds of apple mellowed and sweetened the kicky cabbage. This was no timid dish and we blithely ate up all of it (in our defense, my head of cabbage was less than the 2.5 pounder called for).

Oh sure, I'd still like to curse the gods of dental hygiene requirements and a world in which my retirement isn't guaranteed, but my dinner last night was so damn good that I think my week might have even been salvaged by it. And that's saying quite a bit.

Braised Red Cabbage
Serves 6

2 tablespoons butter
1 small red onion, peeled and thinly sliced
1 medium (2 1/2 pounds) red cabbage, quartered, spines removed and thinly sliced
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons caraway seeds
2 tablespoons yellow mustard seeds
1/2 cup cider vinegar
3/4 cup dry red wine
1 large tart apple, such as Granny Smith, peeled and coarsely grated
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Melt the butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the cabbage and toss until it begins to wilt, 2 to 3 minutes.

2. Add the brown sugar, caraway seeds, mustard seeds, vinegar, wine and apple. Stir to combine, and season with salt and pepper. Cut a circle of parchment paper the size of the bottom of the pan, slice a small vent in the middle, and place directly over the cabbage. Simmer until the cabbage is soft, about 45 minutes. Adjust salt and pepper, and serve.

Comments

[aileen]

I have read your site for months now, and loved every post. This post, however, must be my favorite and so I felt compelled to write a thank you for sharing it. Oh, I do sympathize with the dental experience. But what a wonderful example and description of the natural mood-enhancing effect of cooking a great and simple dinner. I look forward to adding variety to my winter meals by supplementing my tried, true and often version from the Union Square Greenmarket Cookbook with a caraway and mustard version!

[Grant]

I just love cabbage and sausages together. LOVE. I've made a recipe similar to this but I really like the addition of the brown sugar and the mustard seeds. That such a great idea.

[Lydia]

On days when I even have to say the word "dentist", let alone visit one, let alone have work done, I wouldn't shop, cook, or write -- I would just drag myself home and collapse, and hope that someone would take pity on me. You are truly amazing!

[lindy]

Ack. Poor, poor, Luisa. How purely rotten for you.

Despite having what passes for a dental benefit through my job, I have had travel plans ruined by dental bills 2 years in a row. I mean, crowns and stuff. I so entirely sympathize. I actually cried, and I'm not a weeper.

Being beyond phobic about the dentist (I got less upset about abdominal surgery than those crowns), I do believe that a dental bill is the very most depressing possible way to wave goodbye to a big wodge of money without having any fun. Well, okay, I can think of worse things, but short of actual tragedy, this takes the cake.
.
I liked the look of that cabbage too.

[Abby]

I have no formal cooking training but I learned a lot from my grandmother and mom. Being Southern, we eat cooked cabbage all the time - but why parchment? We simply put the top on the pot - 15 minutes and you're done. I bet yours is a trick I'll use all the time!

[Molly]

I'm with Grant: cabbage + sausage = HEAVEN. There's nothing to match a good, fatty meat like some sweet-tart cabbage. Amen, my friend.

And on a less cheery note, I'm so sorry about all your dental woes! But I hope that between Ben and that heavenly dinner, you're feeling much, much better. xo

[Leland]

Sometimes the simplest dishes are the best. I braised some old celery after a hard day last week, and it brought me back to planet earth. I'm glad your cabbage made you feel better!

[Leland]

Sometimes the simplest dishes are the best. I braised some old celery after a hard day last week, and it brought me back to planet earth. I'm glad your cabbage made you feel better!

[Alizah]

This recipe reminds me of a great one by Marcella Hazan. Hers is "suffocated" - cooked long and slow with a lid on the saute pan. The recipe calls for both butter and olive oil, a splash of vinegar, then plenty of parmiggiano at the end. And I find that if you add some diced prosciutto ends to it, it is absolutely sublime. You can also add risotto and make it into a stew-ish concoction. Awesome, especially on those brisk sharp-winded days, which may sadly have gone the way of the polar bear, as you say. Have you tried that recipe??

[Luisa]

Aileen - thank you so much! For your kind words, for reading, for delurking :) I'm glad you liked this post and I'm sure you'll like the cabbage even more.

Grant - yes, it's a match made in heaven. Hot dogs & sauerkraut, sausages and braised cabbage, yum yum yum.

Lydia - well, thank you! Cooking is such a tonic for me that I wouldn't have wanted anything else.

Lindy - travel plans disrupted? Oh NO. I would have been inconsolable. And you're right, dental work is by no means a tragedy, but it is the MOST frustrating way to lose money. Ick.

Abby - I have no idea what the deal with that parchment is! I know that Julia Child called for it a lot in MTAOFC, but I've never really understood why a top wouldn't work. But again, I don't have a top to my fry pan, so it's just as well that I used the parchment.

Molly - indeed, feeling much better, thank you! Sometimes you just need to let it all out ;)

Leland - that sounds delicious. What recipe did you use? I've got a Marcella Hazan one for braised celery floating about, oh and one from Judy Rodgers, too, but have never actually gotten down to making either one.

Alizah - no, I haven't! It sounds very good. I don't think I've ever had red cabbage with Parmigiano, but I can certainly imagine that with bits of prosciutto it could be elevated into the sublime! Maybe you'll have to make it for us on our next trip to R.I.? :)

[ann]

yeah, i just did the same thing, but with glasses... and my insurance didn't cover them. I've never understood that. I'm blind. If I didn't wear glasses, I would die. Why won't my insurance cover them?
*siiiigh*
Financial trauma aside however, I do concur, cabbage and sausages are BFF.

[Tanna]

...I could feel the knots in my shoulders come apart. Isn't it incredible what cooking can do?
Isn't it incredible that you can write like you do!
That was perfect...just like the meal...just like the dentist never is.
Thank you.

[jan]

My mind has also been completely boggled by dentist bills and dental work, and I relived the sheer madness of having dentist's hands in my mouth with your writing, but I, like many of your readers, have gone home from these experiences, huddled in a blanket, and hoped someone would have pity on me. I so admire your ability to go home and actually cook. Bravo!! You are a new hero to me. The cabbage and sausage looked wonderful. Hope your mouth is feeling good this evening. Thanks for sharing your tale.

[Julie]

Red cabbage therapy!

I had a root canal done several months ago and the most painful part was getting the bill. It was very painful. Afterwards I didn't think of cooking to make me feel better. Instead I took advantage of the fact that my dentist is in a far suburb and near an IKEA and made myself feel better with the purchase of some new kitchen gadgets.

It made me feel better.

[anita]

Googled "braised red cabbage" and discovered your website!! What a find!! I rarely follow recipes to a t- and this was no exception. I halved it roughly - i don't measure and added a handful of golden raisins. Served it with some leftover Moroccan Pot Roast- another recent experiment and it was soo good!!!- a little sweet and sour and sweet again. Was not familiar with Marco Canora or Hearth. Now I am. Many thanks and look forward to more foodierama.

[Rose-Anne]

Mmm-mmm! This dish sounds so good! But half a cup of sugar? Really? Your recipes and your advice have yet to steer me wrong, so I'm going to trust you on this one.

Oh, and I know this is not a recent post at all, but I absolutely feel your pain regarding medical bills that insurance doesn't cover. In one fell swoop my bad eyes can eat up more money than my belly does in a month!