Cooked Poem: "Cabbage"

Several weeks ago I was rummaging through a friend’s bookshelf, a bookshelf that contains, among other things, a rather extensive collection of Charles Simic.

“I have a feeling,” I said. “That Charles Simic would have some good food poems.”

Turns out he does indeed.

“Cabbage,” comes from his collection of poems entitled The Book of Gods and Devils and is, as this copy’s owner remarked “out of print.”

I have already mentioned my affinity for cabbage here- boiled, fermented, raw- I love it. So when I read this poem that afternoon I knew “Cabbage” was fated to be the next cooked poem.

“Cabbage”

She was about to chop the head
In half,
But I made her reconsider
By telling her:
“Cabbage symbolizes mysterious love.”

Or so said one Charles Fourier,
Who said many other strange and wonderful things,
So that people called him mad behind his back,

Whereupon I kissed the back of her neck,
Ever so gently,

Whereupon she cut the cabbage in two
With a single stroke of her knife.

Oh cabbage. What to do with you? Making my own sauerkraut has been on the list for a while now, but I think this is a project for later in the summer. I then thought that perhaps I should just make coleslaw, especially because it was Memorial Day weekend and coleslaw would fit into the whole cookout scheme of things. But this just didn’t feel right. Simic is Yugoslavian after all, I thought, and saying this poem inspired coleslaw seems shallow and wrong. So instead I found a recipe for Yugoslavian Stuffed Cabbage, and while the timing seemed a bit off last weekend, I found myself in the kitchen boiling vinegary cabbage and cooking heavily seasoned ground meat.

I couldn’t help but think about mysterious love as I pulled apart each boiled cabbage leaf, and rolled into a tight little bundle, nestling it in snugly with the other cabbage rolls.

Are you mysterious, cabbage? Do you, as they say, symbolize such strange and mysterious love?

Oddly, the night after I made the cabbage rolls I lay in bed and watched this film. In it, two women fall in love while working in a sauerkraut factory in Germany. What are the chances, right? The filmmakers must know about this mysterious love thing too, I thought. In one scene in particular, the two lovers crouch together in a cabbage field, and between loaded looks and long silences, talk to each other about their past failed relationships. One of them struggles with a knife to cut the cabbage from its stem, and then the other says “here, let me show you an easier way.”

Major cabbage symbolism in action right there, I tell ya. Regardless, it was a good film. You should rent it. Or stream it, or whatever. But I’ll warn you it is a little depressing. So don’t watch it and then yell at me about how it got you all sad, okay?

Since I have never eaten a cabbage roll before I really had no reference point for what it should taste like. And the idea of mixing cinnamon and nutmeg in with the ground meat, and then paired with tomatoes and sauerkraut did seem a little gnarly at first, but the flavors actually play off each other very well. The recipe recommends that the rolls are even better after sitting for a few days, and this is true. I ate them the next day for lunch and they were even better. Supposedly they should be served with boiled potatoes. Maybe washed down with a glass a vodka, too.

And I apologize for these photos. I struggled with finding a way to make the stuffed cabbage look as appetizing as it actually is. So I realize they look at little rough here, but they are good! Really!

Yugoslavian Stuffed Cabbage Rolls

1 head of cabbage, cored
1 c. vinegar
1 onion, chopped
¼ lbs. bacon, copped
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 bunch parsley, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
2 lbs ground meat (you can use any combination of pork, veal, beef, or turkey. I used pork and turkey because that is what I had in the freezer)
½ tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. paprika
¼ tsp. nutmeg
Salt and pepper to taste
1 bag or can of sauerkraut (about 2 cups)
1 14 oz. can of pureed tomatoes
2 cloves
1 Tbs. sugar

Boil the head of cabbage in water for 20 minutes, along with the 1 cup of vinegar. Drain and cool.

In a skillet, brown the onion, bacon, garlic, parsley, and celery. Add the ground meat. Let cool and then add the cinnamon, nutmeg, paprika, salt and pepper, egg, and rice.

In a separate bowl, mix together the sauerkraut and tomatoes.

Trim the cabbage leave and fill with meat mixture. Place them into a casserole dish, fitting them tightly against each other. Cover with sauerkraut and tomatoes mixture. Sprinkle with sugar and the two cloves.

Cover and bake at 350 for two hours. Serve with boiled potatoes.

This time we did use the kitchen

*All photos courtesy of Danielle Henderson
The last time we made waffles over at my friends Jon and Lea’s house we had to do it like this because their kitchen was completely gutted for renovations. It has been many many months but the kitchen is finally functional, and while it is not entirely finished, Lea and Jon invited everyone over for a Memorial Day brunch Sunday morning.

The kitchen looks beautiful, Lea made scrambled eggs, home fries, and fresh carrot/pineapple juice that were to die for, plus this delicious cinnamon role (made out of pizza dough that she bought from a local bakery). And Jon, good Pennsylvanian boy that he is, ironed up some tasty waffles which we all drizzled with blueberry compote, maple syrup, and Greek yogurt.

I may have mentioned before that both Jon and Lea are talented potters, so Sunday morning we drank and ate off of their beautifully handcrafted plates and mugs. Coffee and waffles definitely taste better this way.

I forgot my camera to document the deliciousness, but the lovely Danielle was there and managed to take all these pictures. All photo credits go completely to her! Her camera’s battery died 20  minutes in but being the resourceful type of lady that she is, she merely gave the battery a couple of licks and it worked like a charm!