Creole Cabbage -- The Coleslaw Side of a Labor Day Just for Two

Labor Day with two, and the holiday is the smallest it has ever been: Robert at the grill, Mama in her chair, me in the kitchen. James called from Columbia. Carrie sent photographs from a temple in Kyoto — golden, ancient, impossibly beautiful, the kind of beauty that makes you understand why your daughter left and also why leaving was necessary: some beauty can only be seen by going to it, and the going is the seeing, and the seeing is the becoming.

The house is adjusting to its two-person rhythm with the ease of a system that has been contracting for three years and that has developed the flexibility of a muscle repeatedly stretched: it returns to its smallest form without strain. Robert and I eat dinner together every night — just the two of us, at the antique dining table that seats eight and that holds two with the generous emptiness of a table that is not half empty but entirely theirs.

The generous emptiness is new. I did not expect generosity from emptiness. But the emptiness of a table that once held children and that now holds their absence is not blank. It is full of the meals that were eaten, the conversations that were had, the blessings that were said. The table remembers. The table is the record. And the record is the love, stored in the grain of the wood, in the scars where the knives slipped, in the watermark where Carrie left her glass in 2015 and that I have never refinished because the watermark is Carrie, and Carrie is the table, and the table is the home.

I made Robert's ribs — for two, on the piazza, with coleslaw and corn on the cob and the particular satisfaction of a Labor Day that is small and sufficient and that does not apologize for its size, because the size is not the measure of the holiday. The measure is the cooking. And the cooking is full.

The coleslaw I made that Labor Day was not the coleslaw of a crowd — it was something more alive than that, something with heat and smoke and the kind of insistence that says this meal matters even if only two people are sitting down to it. I had Creole Cabbage on my mind all week, the way it goes tender and bold at the same time, and it felt exactly right beside Robert’s ribs on the piazza: a dish that does not apologize for its intensity any more than we apologized for the smallness of our holiday. The table was ours. The food was ours. And this cabbage — spiced and generous and a little unexpected — was exactly the company we needed.

Creole Cabbage

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1/2 lb smoked andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
• 1 small head green cabbage (about 1 1/2 lbs), coarsely chopped
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 2 stalks celery, sliced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
• 1 tbsp olive oil or vegetable oil
• 1 tsp Creole seasoning (such as Tony Chachere’s)
• 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
• 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper, or to taste
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 2 green onions, sliced, for garnish

Instructions

1. Brown the sausage. Heat oil in a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the andouille slices and cook 3—4 minutes, turning once, until lightly browned. Remove sausage to a plate and set aside.
2. Sauté the aromatics. In the same pan with the remaining drippings, add the onion, bell pepper, and celery. Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
3. Add the cabbage. Add the chopped cabbage to the pan in batches if needed, stirring to combine with the aromatics. It will look like a lot — it will cook down significantly.
4. Season and simmer. Stir in the diced tomatoes with their juices, Creole seasoning, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Return the sausage to the pan. Stir everything together, then reduce heat to medium-low.
5. Cook until tender. Cover and cook 15—18 minutes, stirring once or twice, until the cabbage is fully tender and the flavors have melded. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, and cayenne as needed.
6. Garnish and serve. Ladle into bowls or alongside grilled ribs and corn on the cob. Top with sliced green onions and serve hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 720mg