Roasted Cabbage Wedges -- After the Smörgåstårta, Something Simple

Peter did not call. I called him. He picked up on the third try. He sounded thin — the way he has sounded for months now, the way Pappa used to sound. I told him about the meatballs I was making. He said he wished he was here. I said come for Christmas. He said he would try. I did not push. I did not lecture. I said I loved him. I hung up the phone and I stood at the kitchen sink for a long minute looking at the lake. Sophie texted a photo of Mira eating cereal. Mira's face was covered in milk. The photo was lit from the side by morning light and the smile in it was uninhibited and full and I could not stop looking at it. I printed the photo. I taped it to the fridge. I have a system on the fridge now: a column for each grandchild, a column for each great-grandchild, photos rotated weekly. The fridge is the gallery. The gallery is the proof. Peter called from Chicago. He sounded thinner than last week. He said work was fine. I do not believe him. He said his apartment was fine. I do not believe him either. He asked about the dog. He asked about the lake. He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him too. I told him about the bread I was baking. He said he could almost smell it through the phone. We hung up. I stood at the sink for a long minute. I did not know what else to do. I cooked Smörgåstårta (sandwich cake) this week. The savory cake — layered bread, with shrimp salad, ham, hard-boiled egg, dill, all frosted in cream cheese mixed with mayonnaise. Decorated with cucumber and dill. The most Swedish thing on a buffet. Damiano Thursday. A teenage boy came in alone. He was hungry. He did not want to make eye contact. I served him soup. I did not make small talk. He ate two bowls. He left. The not-asking was the gift. The not-asking is sometimes the right form of attention. The teenagers know. The kitchen is the reliquary. I have used this word in the blog before. I am using it again because it is the right word. A reliquary is the container that holds the bones of the saints. The kitchen holds the bones of my saints — Pappa, Lars, Mamma, Paul, Erik, the first Sven, the second Sven. The bones are not literal bones. The bones are the marble slab and the bread pans and the glasses on the shelf and the wooden spoon worn smooth by Mamma's hand. The kitchen holds them. The kitchen is what holds them. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. Sven (whichever Sven I am living with at the moment) has the daily distinction of being the most consistent presence in my life. He follows me from kitchen to porch to bedroom. He sleeps within ten feet of me at all times. He notices when I am sad and he comes to put his head on my knee and the head is heavy and warm and the heaviness is the comfort. The dog is not a person. The dog is the only creature in the house, however, and the dog does the work that another person would do if there were one. The dog is enough. It is enough.

The Smörgåstårta takes concentration — the layers, the frosting, the careful placement of shrimp and dill — and that concentration is its own kind of mercy when the phone calls have been hard and the lake is doing what the lake does. But after the buffet was cleared and the kitchen was quiet again, I wanted something that asked very little of me. Roasted cabbage wedges ask very little. You cut, you oil, you salt, you wait. The oven does the rest, and the kitchen stays warm, and that is enough.

Roasted Cabbage Wedges

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 small head green cabbage (about 2 lbs), outer leaves removed
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan (optional)
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• Fresh flat-leaf parsley or dill, chopped, for serving

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Cut the cabbage. Place the cabbage on a cutting board, stem end down. Cut through the core into 8 equal wedges, keeping the core intact so each wedge holds together.
3. Season. Lay the wedges flat on the prepared baking sheet. Brush both sides generously with olive oil. Sprinkle evenly with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and smoked paprika.
4. Roast. Transfer to the oven and roast for 15 minutes. Flip each wedge carefully with a spatula, then roast for another 13–15 minutes, until the edges are deeply caramelized and the cut faces are golden brown.
5. Finish. Remove from the oven. Squeeze lemon juice over the wedges and scatter Parmesan over the top if using. Let rest for 2 minutes.
6. Serve. Arrange on a platter and scatter fresh dill or parsley over the top. Serve warm, directly from the pan.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 125 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 390mg