Root Cellar Suppers: A Braised Cabbage with Bacon and Caraway

By January, the fresh vegetables in my kitchen come from two places: the root cellar and the grocery store, and I try to lean on the cellar as much as I can. There is usually a shelf of cabbage down there, wrapped in newspaper, along with onions, potatoes, and a few winter squash. Cabbage is the workhorse of that shelf. It keeps for months, it costs almost nothing, and when you cook it slowly with a little fat, it turns sweet and soft and deeply satisfying.

This is a supper I make at least once a week in the cold months. It is not a recipe so much as a method, and it works with any cabbage you have. Green, savoy, even red, though red will turn everything in the pan a strange purple. I usually use green.

Building the Pan

Start with a few slices of bacon, cut into small pieces, in a heavy Dutch oven or a deep skillet with a lid. Render them over medium heat until they are crisp, then scoop them out and set them aside. Leave the fat in the pan. Add a sliced onion and cook it in the bacon fat until it is soft and beginning to brown. Then add a chopped clove or two of garlic and a teaspoon of caraway seeds. Let them toast for a minute, just until they smell good.

Now add the cabbage. Cut a whole head into rough ribbons, discarding the core. It will look like far too much for the pan, but it will cook down. Stir it around to coat it in the fat, add a big pinch of salt, and then pour in about a cup of stock or water. Cover the pan and turn the heat to low. Let it braise for forty minutes, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage is completely tender and the liquid has mostly cooked away.

At the end, stir the bacon back in, taste for salt, and add a splash of cider vinegar if it needs a little lift. A grind of black pepper. That is it.

What to Serve With It

I like this with a boiled potato, or a piece of buttered rye bread, or a fried egg on top if I want it to be a full meal. Sometimes I will add a spoonful of sour cream at the table. The leftovers are even better the next day, reheated in a skillet until the edges get a little crispy. It is the kind of food that does not photograph well and does not need to. It just needs to be eaten, in a warm kitchen, while the wind is doing whatever it is doing outside.