The first time I cooked red cabbage it went blue.  I boiled the life, the very red, out of it. (Other culinary delights served at that meal were raw jacket potatoes, off sour cream and pork chops as tough as leather).

Now if you read below you will see I have mastered Savoy cabbage.  I made it sexy.  But on a whim I had also brought red cabbage.  It sat in the fridge for at least a week.  It eyed me redly each time I looked in.  It dared me to make a meal of it.  I wasn’t ready. 

Could I forgive myself massacring the bright little vegetable again?  On Thursday the decision was made for me.  With nothing in the fridge except said cabbage and some other bits, I thought what the heck! It’s only cabbage! It can’t kill me!

It was the highlight of the meal, surpassing whatever protein and carb is was served with; it was so good I can’t even remember what they were.  Oh what lovely things happen with a bit of courage, and masses of butter.

Righteous Red Cabbage


Steamy Hot Cabbage Love


I admit, this is one of those where I measured nothing, I threw it all in, half expectant of disaster, half hypnotized by the buttery red smell of lovely cabbage coming from the pan.  Do the same.

Half a red cabbage

25g butter (perhaps more or less, I’m not sure, just whack it in)

Two tablespoons of water

Two – three tablespoons of balsamic vinegar (glug it in)

Roughly two tablespoons of pine nuts (throw them in)

Roughly two tablespoons of capers (throw them in again, although do drain the vinegar off them first)




1. Slice the cabbage in slivers (shred it)

2. Melt the butter in a big, deep frying pan

3. Add the cabbage, stir around and then add the water

4. Fry, stirring about for a bit until it’s starting to go a bit limper

5. Add the pine nuts, stir about for a minute or so

6. Glug in the balsamic vinegar

7. Add the capers

8. Stir around, nibbling little shreds of it until it’s the right texture for you

9. Add some salt (to taste).

10. Enjoy with whatever else is the fridge

In other news:

At the weekend P and I had a big party (sorry if you weren’t invited, come next time).  I made roast potatoes.  I forgot to boil them, arghh disaster I thought.  But not, quartered maris pipers cooked in plenty of very hot olive oil, with lots of smashed garlic cloves and rosemary springs for an hour or so made delicious crispy, fluffy inside roasties that were devoured by my drunken friends.

The sausages were more problematic.  I cooked all 80 of the cocktail king with 2 tablespoons each of sesame seed oil, soy sauce and honey. A kindly guest (read a drunken boy) smelt the lovely sausages, cooking happily in their marinade. He saw all the hot runny juices and silly, hapless creature thought the juice was fat.  He poured all that salty sweet marinade down the sink. ARGH!! Luckily the sausages had covered themselves and sucked up a lot of the flavour so it wasn’t a total disaster. But a lesson to be learnt – never let strangers touch the oven. Ever.