Contest-Winning Cajun Cabbage

The week after Easter, and the household returns to its three-person weekday rhythm: Naomi, Robert, Mama, plus Ruth (days) and Gloria (evenings). The rhythm is a machine — not cold, not mechanical, but reliable in the way that machines are reliable: it produces the care that Mama needs, the meals that the household eats, the hours of companionship and supervision that a woman with late-middle-stage Alzheimer's requires. The machine runs on love. The fuel is the cooking. The output is the dignity.

I have been thinking about the cookbook's structure — whether it is a cookbook with memoir or a memoir with recipes. The distinction matters for publishers, for readers, for the woman at the desk trying to decide whether the she-crab soup chapter should lead with the recipe or the story. I have decided: the story leads. The recipe follows. Because the recipe without the story is directions. The story without the recipe is memoir. But the story leading to the recipe — the life leading to the food — is the book I am writing, and the book I am writing is the life I am living.

Carrie has been accepted to teach at a high school in Fukuoka — the JET placement confirmed, the school identified, the grade levels assigned (tenth and eleventh). She will teach English to Japanese teenagers, which is both a job and a comedy, because Carrie's idea of English is Toni Morrison and the Japanese teenagers' idea of English is basic conversation, and the gap between the two is the challenge and the joy.

I made shrimp and grits — the weeknight version, the simple version, the version that does not require a special occasion but that transforms a Wednesday into a small celebration. Mama ate half a bowl. The half-bowl is the new serving size, the disease having reduced her appetite to a child's portion, and the reduction is one more thing on the list I do not write but that I carry, the list that gets heavier every week while Mama gets lighter.

The shrimp and grits that fed us that Wednesday — Mama’s half-bowl, Robert’s full one, mine somewhere in between — reminded me that Southern cooking has always known how to do this: take an ordinary evening and make it matter without making it complicated. This Cajun Cabbage is that same spirit in a skillet. It is the kind of recipe that belongs to a Wednesday, that asks nothing of you except a little time and the willingness to let the seasoning do its work.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef
1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
1/2 cup chopped onion
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 small head green cabbage (about 2 lbs), coarsely chopped
1 can (14-1/2 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1/2 cup uncooked long-grain white rice
1/2 cup water
1-1/2 teaspoons Cajun seasoning
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Instructions

Brown the meat. In a large deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat, cook ground beef, bell pepper, onion, and garlic until the beef is no longer pink, about 7–9 minutes. Drain excess fat.
Add the cabbage and tomatoes. Stir in the chopped cabbage, diced tomatoes with their juices, uncooked rice, water, Cajun seasoning, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Mix well to combine.
Simmer covered. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce heat to medium-low. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage is tender and the rice is cooked through, about 20–25 minutes. Add a splash of water if the skillet looks dry before the rice is done.
Taste and adjust. Uncover and taste for seasoning. Add more Cajun seasoning or salt as needed. Let any excess liquid cook off for 2–3 minutes over medium heat.
Add the cheese. Sprinkle shredded cheddar evenly over the top. Cover for 1–2 minutes just until the cheese melts, then serve directly from the skillet.

Nutrition (per serving)

Contest-Winning Cajun Cabbage — A Wednesday Comfort When the Week Weighs Heavy