Southern Cabbage

Mid-January. The cooking classes are becoming a regular thing — I am scheduling one per month at the community kitchen space, each class focused on a different aspect of Japanese home cooking. January's class: dashi and miso soup. The fundamentals. The foundation. Fifteen strangers learning to soak kombu overnight, to heat it slowly, to add bonito flakes at exactly the right moment, to strain through cloth, to dissolve miso without boiling. The teaching is the extending. The extending is the practice shared.

I made Fumiko's kenchin jiru — the clear vegetable soup with root vegetables and tofu — a winter dish that is simpler than miso soup and equally comforting. The kenchin jiru is temple cuisine, originally — Buddhist monk food, vegetarian, the vegetables sauteed in sesame oil before the dashi is added, the oil adding a richness that the clear broth would otherwise lack. I taught this in the cooking class and the students' faces when they tasted the soup — the surprise, the recognition, the "this is what I've been missing" expression — were the payment. The forty-five dollars was the invoice. The faces were the payment.

The second book is three-quarters drafted. The Barbara chapters are done. The Fumiko chapters are done. The space-between chapters are in revision. The Japan chapter (still written before the trip, still a dream, still a wish on paper) needs work — needs the longing to be more specific, needs the dreaming to be more grounded, needs the wish to feel like a plan rather than a fantasy. The wish will become a plan. The plan will become a trip. The trip is three years away. The three years are the dashi soaking: invisible work that will produce visible flavor.

Brian and I had a scheduling conflict this week — his work event overlapping with my cooking class, both needing Miya-care at the same time. The conflict was resolved by Rachel (Sophie's mom, who took Miya for the evening), but the resolution required a terse text exchange between Brian and me, the kind of exchange that is efficient and charged and contains, in the subtext, the frustrations of co-parenting: the assumption that my schedule is flexible, the assumption that his work takes priority, the small power dynamics that divorce does not eliminate but merely rearranges.

Teaching that January class reminded me how much I trust the vegetable’s quiet power — the kenchin jiru worked because the ingredients were honest, not because they were complicated. On evenings when the text exchanges with Brian leave a residue I can’t quite shake, I reach for something equally plain and equally grounding: a pot of Southern cabbage, braised low and slow, which asks nothing of me except patience. It is not temple cuisine, but it has the same spirit — simple things, treated with care, becoming something that surprises you.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 medium head green cabbage (about 2 lbs), cored and chopped into 1-inch pieces
4 slices bacon, chopped (or 2 tablespoons butter for a vegetarian version)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup chicken broth (or vegetable broth)
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Instructions

Render the bacon. In a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat, cook the chopped bacon until crisp and the fat has rendered, about 5–7 minutes. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving the drippings in the pot.
Soften the aromatics. Add the diced onion to the pot and cook in the bacon drippings over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add the cabbage. Add the chopped cabbage to the pot in batches if needed, stirring to coat with the drippings. Season with smoked paprika, garlic powder, red pepper flakes (if using), salt, and black pepper.
Braise low and slow. Pour in the broth, stir to combine, and bring to a gentle simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and cook for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage is very tender and has absorbed most of the liquid.
Finish and serve. Stir in the apple cider vinegar and taste for seasoning. Top with the reserved crispy bacon. Serve hot directly from the pot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Southern Cabbage — The Simplest Vegetables, The Deepest Comfort