The cabbage is the thing, #2, free of alien babies.

Out of the CSA delivery, one of the most common victims of my lack of time last summer was the poor green cabbage. Not to be confused with the cabbage varieties I cooked with ease (Napa, joi choi, bok choy) similarly to any other green. Green cabbage, to me, is a beast. Yes, green cabbage stores longer than god in the refrigerator. Yes, green cabbage is packed with nutrients (insert what, to be exact). Yes, green cabbage is an excellent main ingredient in a variety of slaws. But cabbage is also stinky and, well, a bit intimidating.

If I am being completely frank, I may also be nurturing childhood scars related to green cabbage – ESPECIALLY the monstrosities delivered by the farm. See, I was born in 1973. Do you know what that means? I was a child of the ‘80s. Do you know what THAT means? I am certain it in fact means many things, but today, I am referring to the phenomenon known as Cabbage Patch Kids.

God, the term is terrifying even to type.

Those who knew me as a little girl, I would bet significant sums of money, would not dream to describe me as a child with a penchant for dolls. Don’t misunderstand me: I had dolls. I imagine at times I must have played various forms of imaginative make-believe with said dolls. My memories of childhood, however, recall more a love for stuffed animals and Star Wars figurines – not to mention my beloved Weeble Wobble Treehouse and Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine – than wanting to dress up dolls or pretend to change a doll’s diaper or walk a fake baby in a stroller. I do recall a doll from a toy store in England bought for me when I was five that I adored … and then, a few years later, there was the Cabbage Patch Kid.

Early in life, I yearned to be mainstream. Accepted. Normal. (Funny how life changes.) For a period of time before I hit double digits-ish, this meant joining the craze for Cabbage Patch Kids. You get a birth certificate with each one! And if you do not like the name, you can send in for another birth certificate! (Query: how does this promote something positive in a child’s life?) The dolls were all different, just like people! And look how happy they are! Just eager to be loved!

Some children are afraid of clowns. I became afraid of my Cabbage Patch Kid. I cannot remember when it appeared – certainly by the end of 1983, when 3 million Cabbage Patch Kids were sold and the dolls began appearing on the cover of every major news source as the greatest doll phenomenon in history.  If I had to muster a guess, I imagine my father brought one home to my pleading eyes, as he too wanted me to feel accepted and a part of All Things Girly after my mom died – and I do recall being thrilled by her arrival. She had brown hair and freckles. How appropriate! But I hated her name, so in a fit of rebellion I filled out the form to name her myself and received the birth certificate of my choosing. I wish I could remember the entire name. All I remember is Lauren was either the first or the middle. Lauren Elizabeth, maybe? 

Over time, or maybe it was just my growing up, the squished, ever-grinning freckled face seriously began to give me the creeps. I just did not feel the same childlike maternal love for my Cabbage Patch Daughter as I felt I should. This did not aid my sense of participation in All Things Girly. And the idea that these squished faces sprang out of heads of cabbage …. I mean, can you imagine opening giant cabbage leaves and finding a BABY inside? Who the hell makes this stuff up? Cabbage Patch Aliens, they should have been called. For heaven's sake. THIS IS THE LOGO.

You will find it entirely reasonable, then, that the delivery of green cabbage – with its gorgeous, enormous, wrap-around leaves that protect the nugget of cabbage contained within – always gives me a slight moment’s pause. I shudder to think peeling those leaves to find some form of human life inside.

Determined to see through my commitment to eat every morsel of every CSA delivery, and completely hamstrung by my refusal to eat the cabbage raw in a slaw or otherwise, I spent oodles of time researching various cabbage preparations to settle on this one. Easy as can be, mind you, but a time commitment of a couple of hours, even if most of that time is spent doing nothing but watching Game of Thrones episodes on HBO On Demand (an activity I highly recommend if, like me, you lived under a rock of work the past year and never heard of this show before looking for something to occupy your sudden free time).

Gather together:

• Lemons
• Sugar
• Delicious white wine (I used a Riesling)
• White onion
• Olive oil

First, pour yourself a glass of the white wine. Next, prep the cabbage. Even if it looks like the leaves will open up to reveal a life-form inside. I mean, can you say ominous?

Take a deep breath, steel your nerves, and peel away the giant protective leaves to find inside … a perfectly heavy, gorgeous head of cabbage. Toss the big leaves, quarter the cabbage, and then cut away its core. Cut into ribbons and wash in several changes of water.

Then put the cabbage in a giant bowl and add a cup of the wine, two tablespoons of lemon juice (I used the juice of two lemons, which yielded slightly more), and 1 and 1/2 tablespoons of sugar. Toss it all about. 

Go enjoy an episode of Game of Thrones or similar, play with the kids, take a nap, pull out a favorite record, whatever will pass the time enjoyable for an hour – but every fifteen minutes or so, give the cabbage a toss around in the marinade. At first, it will look like nothing is marinating other than the bottom few shreds of cabbage. That is a LOT of cabbage for a seemingly small amount of marinade. And you will be tempted to think – even after 45 minutes – that the full hour of marinating time is unnecessary. Incorrect, I learned. After about 45 minutes, give or take, the cabbage suddenly appeared smaller. The marinade was doing its job. The cabbage was breaking down and the deliciousness in the bowl with it was slowly blending with the cabbage.

After munching on a shred or two of the marinating cabbage after the hour is up, As the grab a hefty white onion (I used a Vidalia), halve it, peel it, and slice it.  Grab your Dutch oven or similarly sized pot, swirl in a fair amount of olive oil (maybe a tablespoon to two tablespoons), heat it up over medium to medium-high, and toss in the onion. Commence smelling and cook until translucent-ish, 5-8 minutes.

Next, add the cabbage (and, if necessary, increase the flame to medium high). As with the marinade, this will appear to overwhelm the pot. Fret not, however, since after several minutes, it starts to cook down. Cook about five minutes until the cabbage begins to wilt. Then turn down the flame, cover, and let cook for 20 or so minutes, stirring occasionally along the way.

Meanwhile, peel, core and slice a couple of sour apples. We had red apples on hand – pink ladies, most likely – so sour was not on my agenda, but I imagine the sourness of a Granny Smith or similar would add a bit more flavor to the pot. Once the cabbage is nearly tender, toss those slices in to the mix and continue cooking for another ten minutes or so, until the apples are tender but not falling apart. Season with salt and pepper and prepare to devour.

On this particular night, in the midst of watching many Game of Thrones episodes, I also managed to steam the farm’s radishes and grill some bratwursts (my absolute favorite guilty pleasure) as perfect complements to the baby-free cabbage. Mm-mmm.  Cabbage need not be so terrifying, turns out.