Hungarian Stuffed Cabbage

Two weeks to Busan. The pace of my body is picking up in a way I can feel in my sternum. I am excited. I am nervous. I am packing and repacking. I am practicing Korean in the car. I am making notes for James (Korean phrases, eating etiquette, the bow, the two-handed offering of gifts) and he is being patient.

Eunji wrote on Tuesday: "I have taken the week off work for your visit. I have been looking forward to this for a year." A year. Eunji has been looking forward to this for a year. I had been thinking of her as a recent addition, a person I only started corresponding with in November. She has been thinking of me since she knew I had matched. She has, in a sense, been waiting for me as long as Jisoo has, in her own way. I sent her a long letter back. I told her I had been looking forward to meeting her for a long time too, and that I was nervous that I would not live up to what she had been imagining, and that I hoped she would be patient with me. She wrote back: "Stop worrying, unnie. We have so much time."

Jihoon wrote that he and Bora were coming to Busan for the last weekend of my trip — Friday to Sunday. They will be at Jisoo's apartment. He is looking forward to meeting James. He wants to play his guitar for me. He wants me to bring him an IPA from Seattle because Korean beer, he says, is a crime. I am packing an IPA in a hard-sided cooler in my checked luggage. This is the kind of request I live for.

Karen is coming to terms with my absence. Two weeks is the longest I have gone without seeing her since before her diagnosis. She said on the phone Thursday, "Don't worry about me. Go. Don't call every day." I said, "Mom. I'm going to call you." She said, "Once a week. Twice maybe. Not every day. I don't want you to be distracted." I said, "I'm going to call you when I miss you." She said, "Fine. Just don't make me cry every day. That'll kill me faster than the disease." I laughed. She laughed. David laughed. It was a good call.

James and I had a long talk on Friday night about what happens if something happens to Karen while we are in Busan. I have made David promise to text Kevin and me both at the first sign of anything. If something serious happens, I fly home immediately — Korean Air has been extraordinarily helpful about the possibility, and I have their support number on my phone. We are not expecting anything to happen. Karen has been steady for months. But we are prepared. I will not be caught far from home if something breaks.

Work: last two weeks before my leave. I am cleaning up everything. I am writing handoff docs. I am doing what I should always do but usually do not do. Priya noticed. She said, "This is the cleanest handoff I have seen from you." I said, "I may leave for longer than two weeks someday and I am practicing." She looked at me. She said, "Are you thinking about that?" I said, "I'm always thinking about it." She did not press. She said, "Whenever you want to talk, I'm available." I said, "Thank you." I think Priya knows.

The recipe this week is kalguksu — hand-cut knife noodles, Jisoo's version, in anchovy broth with clams and zucchini. I made them Friday because I wanted to practice rolling noodles one more time before Busan. Mine are getting thinner and more even. Jisoo said via photo: "You are ready. You can roll my noodles next to me now." I am bringing my chef's knife to Busan. I am going to cut noodles in her kitchen.

The kalguksu practice that week had me thinking about hand-rolling in general — the patience of it, the repetition, the way your hands start to know what they’re doing before your brain catches up. I wanted to keep that going on the nights between noodle sessions, so I turned to something else I roll by hand: stuffed cabbage, the Hungarian version I learned years ago, tucked into a tomato-and-paprika broth and left to go quiet on the stove for two hours. It’s not Korean. It’s not Jisoo’s kitchen. But it has the same unhurried quality — the kind of cooking that asks you to slow down even when your sternum is pulsing — and right now that’s exactly what I need.

Prep Time: 35 min | Cook Time: 2 hrs | Total Time: 2 hrs 35 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 large head green cabbage (about 3 lbs)
1 lb ground pork
1/2 lb ground beef
1/2 cup uncooked long-grain white rice
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1 medium yellow onion, finely grated (divided)
3 cloves garlic, minced (divided)
2 tsp sweet Hungarian paprika (divided)
1 tsp salt, plus more to taste
1/2 tsp black pepper
2 cans (14.5 oz each) crushed tomatoes
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
1 cup low-sodium beef broth
1 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp dried marjoram
Sour cream, for serving

Instructions

Soften the cabbage. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Core the cabbage and lower it whole into the water. Cook for 5–8 minutes, gently peeling away leaves as they become pliable. You need about 12 large leaves. Pat them dry and use a knife to thin any thick center ribs so the leaves roll easily. Set aside.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, combine the ground pork, ground beef, rice, egg, half the grated onion, half the garlic, 1 tsp paprika, 1 tsp salt, and black pepper. Mix gently with your hands until just combined — do not overmix or the filling will be dense.
Roll the cabbage. Place about 3 tbsp of filling near the base of each cabbage leaf. Fold the sides inward, then roll up firmly from the bottom. Repeat with remaining leaves and filling. Any leftover cabbage can be shredded and used in the sauce.
Build the sauce. In a large, heavy-bottomed Dutch oven or deep skillet, warm the olive oil over medium heat. Add the remaining onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the remaining garlic and 1 tsp paprika and cook for 1 minute. Add the tomato paste and stir to coat. Pour in the crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes, and beef broth. Stir in the sugar and marjoram. Season with salt to taste. If using shredded cabbage scraps, stir them in now.
Simmer low and slow. Nestle the cabbage rolls seam-side down snugly into the sauce in a single layer (work in two layers if needed, spooning sauce between them). Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 1 hour 45 minutes to 2 hours, until the filling is cooked through, the rice is tender, and the sauce has thickened. Spoon sauce over the rolls halfway through cooking.
Rest and serve. Let the pot rest uncovered for 10 minutes off the heat before serving. Plate 2 rolls per person with a generous ladle of tomato sauce and a dollop of cold sour cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Hungarian Stuffed Cabbage — Rolling Something by Hand Before I Go