Taking a Trip to the Cabbage Patch

Sunday afternoon we stayed our butts at home because (A) it's just too darn hot to be schlepping from store to store and (B) after Saturday's purchase of Lumpy, we didn't feel the need to be great consumers because we knew we didn't need to be spending more money, plus any subsequent purchase would be pretty much a letdown after Lumpy. Our staying home meant that I had time to finally make cabbage pooriyal.

Don't get me wrong, Gentle Reader: cabbage pooriyal is not a labor-intensive recipe. On the contrary, it's quite simple. But I wanted plenty of time to whip it up since I'd be dealing with a major ingredient--cabbage--that I'd never dealt with before.

Flashing Back to Childhood
When I was on the verge of adolescence, the little sister got her first Cabbage Patch Kid--one of those baldie "preemie" dolls with the permanent Binky pucker. (Yes, Gentle Reader, insert your own "Sucker's cramp!" joke here. Don't let me down.) What was great about Evelyn Bebe was that her head was hollow and, when held up to the light, you could see right through her empty noggin--something me and the older sister delighted in horrifying the little sister with time and time again. I also strung up Evelyn Bebe from the ceiling fan a time or two in the bedroom I shared with Miss Marie. Ahh, I was a great kid, wasn't I? You're probably thanking the FSM about now, Gentle Reader, that I grew up to become a verbose blogger and not a serial killer.

Anywho, Cabbage Patch Kids were as close as I got to cabbage as a kid. The cafeteria at grade school often served saurkraut--ahh, there's a wholesome dish!--and 'krautburgers, which looked too damn close to the yummy pigs in a blanket the cafeteria also served, which led to some dangerously close encounters of the 'kraut kind when I was young. (Yes, Gentle Reader, once upon a time I too ate hot dogs. I was mad for the cheese-filled ones. Now the thought of those unknown yellow goo-oozing things makes me queasy.) I can still vividly remember that loathsome smell of 'kraut....

So it was with some trepidation that I embarked on cabbage pooriyal. What if it turns out terribly and isn't anywhere near as good as the cabbage pooriyal I love at Madras Pavilion? I fretted as I gathered my ingredients. What if this culinary misadventure turns me permanently against this food I've just recently discovered is edible and enjoyable?

Well, those thoughts got shoved aside as I had to focus my wherewithal (or what little is left of my wherewithal after all these years and all this crazy) on prepping the cabbage for the Queasy Art food processor. That was a task that took too much of my brain power--and serves as evidence why I call myself The Faudie and not The Foodie. Once again, though, Christopher Kimball and the folks at America's Test Kitchen saved my bacon--well, my cabbage--with a fabulous quick kitchen tip. This one, which explains a great technique for chopping and de-coring a head of cabbage and prepping it for shredding in a food processor--came not from one of my recent Cook's Illustrated issues but from the copy of The Best Kitchen Quick Tips. (be aware, Gentle Reader, that the latest version has some 830 tips, whereas my older copy just has 534 tips. Bummer.)

Have a mentioned recently how much I love my chef's knife? Truly the folks who say that having the right knife can make all the difference when it comes to cooking speak the truth. If you don't have a damn good knife, I highly recommend (as does CI) the R.H. Forschner by Victorinox 8" chef's knife. You might balk at spending $20 for a knife if you're as cheap as I am, but (A) you can spend a hell of a lot more for a knife and (B) this sucker will last you a lifetime if cared for properly. You can't say that for much these days on which you only spend $20.

Of course, my trusty and constant sous-chef, Nickelbucket, showed his doubt while I was preparing the cabbage for the food processor:

No, Bucket isn't literate. And that's a crying shame.

He's telegraphing his doubt in my culinary abilities pretty well, isn't he?

But sometimes Bucket can be a bit of a drama queen in the kitchen. No blood was shed when he made this face.

Despite the...help of my sous-chef, I wound up with several stack of cabbage to be fed to the voracious demon that is my Queasy Art food processor. Unfortunately, my Queasy Art did too good a job shredding it because it was very...fine. And small.

And stinky! Man, I used to think 'kraut was foul smelling because of the way it's cooked, because of some ingredient or combination therein. But I was wrong. Cabbage is just foul smelling. Period. Talk about noxious cat farts! And trust me, Gentle Reader, I know about noxious cat farts. When I was in high school, we had a cat--Fuzzy Nose and Toes, or just Fuzzy--who had gastrointestinal issues. At the worst possible moments , as in when he'd just gotten settled into your lap and was purring up a storm in his relaxed bliss. Well, poor Fuzzy sometimes relaxed a bit too much.... Poor Fuzzy.

Pourin' It on for Pooriyal
(No, Gentle Reader, I have no idea what that section header's supposed to mean. My alliteration so often is a huge stretch, and for that I beg your pardon.)

The recipe calls for few spices, which is nice. No toasting of spices, no roasting then crushing. Just throw some dried chiles in some hot oil along with one or two other things. Of course, this recipe is from a book of recipes that come from the Indian cooking tradition but are modified with American cooking traditions too. That probably explains the simplified flavor composition.

Once the flavors start to emit their aroma, in go the diced red peppers and peas for a bit of saute time. Isn't this just a gorgeous sight, Gentle Reader:

Then goes in the cabbage in two divided batches. For as big a bowl full of shredded cabbage as I started out with, I wound up with a large but not overly large finished dish in my IKEA wok. And what's great is that despite the shredding problems, my finished pooriyal looks damn near identical to the pooriyal that appears in the recipe book. See for yourself, Gentle Reader:

If you want to give cabbage a shot in a way that doesn't come from a cooking tradition from somewhere in the middle of Europe, here's the recipe as it appears in Suvir Saran's American Masala.

Stir-Fried Cabbage With Red Peppers and Peas3 T canola oil
1 1/2 t cumin seeds
1 t turmeric
3 dried red chiles
1 head of cabbage (about 3 1/2 lb.), cored and finely chopped
2 red bell peppers, cored, seeded and finely chopped
1 C frozen peas
1 1/2 t kosher NaCl

1. Heat the canola oil with the cumin seeds, turmeric and chiles in a large pot or wok over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the chiles become smoky (about 3 minutes).
   
2. Add half the cabbage and all the bell peppers and frozen peas, then stir to combine with the spices.
   
3. After a few minutes, the cabbage will start to wilt. When it does, add the remaining cabbage.
   
4. Cook, stirring often, until the volume has reduced by a third and the cabbage looks very browned (15 to 30 minutes, depending on your pot or wok).
   
5. Mix in the NaCl and serve warm or at room temperature.

Sorry that I can't provide nutritional info, but it's not included in the book, which is a bummer. But this recipe is supposed to serve six.

The Faudie's Futzings
Believe it or not, Gentle Reader, but I didn't futz with this recipe at all.

The first few times I saw American Masala on discount at The Surly Table, I passed on it because I was wanting authentic Indian recipe, not Indian/American fusion. But then I saw it at Half-Price Books, took more than a cursory look at its contents and thought I'd give it a shot. Now I'm quite pleased that I bought it because I have about a dozen other recipes tagged for future culinary misadventures.