A Cabbage Salad with Riffs
Most recipes abide by a some standard formula, and who knows how many formulas there are but probably a lot fewer than we’d like to believe. This is something I always want to do a better job of conveying when I teach classes and in my writing, but it’s tricky, because in the end what I’ve got to offer is a cookbook that’s full of 140 recipes instead of a handful of formulas. I’ve learned to understand the recipe as a stepping stone towards “cooking with what you’ve got”—ie, understanding that most recipes follow an existing formula—because the recurring themes illustrated by substitutions, parings, and different balances of texture/flavor really only become apparent after you’ve spent a good chunk of time getting your hands dirty. But then, once you do have a better idea of what’s happening in the dishes you cook, first off you won’t need to rely on recipes as often, and second, that accumulated experience will give you a much deeper appreciation of what a recipe can actually teach you, which is: all the things you’d never have thought of on your own.
Last week, I had a small head of red cabbage and a couple beets in my fridge (I hope you’re keeping such hearty, long-lasting vegetables around, too), and I turned them into a nice little salad that I really liked and wanted to recreate. But a week later, I don’t have those exact same ingredients anymore. So I thought here I’d try to document the process of adapting it. Certainly it’s morphed into a new recipe entirely, but the bones of the thing are largely the same. Below I’ve broken the salad down into its core parts, which I hope will make sense. After all, we’re all going to become very brave with substitutions over the coming weeks, and might as well start flexing those muscles now.
A Cabbage Salad with Riffs
Serves 4
The Cabbage Base
Version 1: Red Cabbage
Version 2: Green Cabbage
The red cabbage is a little heartier than the green, but otherwise functions pretty much the same.
You’ll need about 6 cups, thinly shaved. Toss with 2 tablespoons of red or white wine vinegar (for the red cabbage, red vinegar is nice, and for the green, white, but use what you’ve got. Apple cider vinegar is fine, too), and a few big pinches of salt and a pinch of sugar. I used coconut sugar the first time I made this, which adds some savoriness. Let it sit to soften for 10 minutes or so, then taste. You’ll likely need to add more vinegar—don’t be shy with the vinegar, it should be punchy, and also more salt. This is the bulk of the salad and needs to taste good enough to eat on its own.
+ The Veg Pairing
Version 1: Roasted Beets, cold
Version 2: Roasted Sweet Potatoes, cold
What I was looking for here was something colorful, sweet, and texturally interesting to spear my fork through alongside the cabbage. Roasted beets made sense in Version 1, for color purposes and to offset the occasional bitterness you’ll find in cabbage. I didn’t have beets this second time, but I did have a bunch of sweet potatoes, and in Start Simple there’s a recipe for a dish featuring cold sweet potatoes, which I’ve come to appreciate. While sweet potatoes don’t have the same resilient structure of beets, they are a fair substitute here, and similarly sweet. Winter squash of any kind would make a fine substitution as well.
Roast 3 medium beets or 2 small sweet potatoes, using whatever method you please. (For beets, I fold them up in a foil parcel with a few tablespoons of water and a drizzle of olive oil, then roast at 375 or 400 until they’re tender. For sweet potatoes, I’m partial to a low, slow roast at 300 for an hour or so, because this produces a nice, custardy, less stringy texture; but for the purposes of this recipe, a higher, faster temp would be fine). I think the salad is best if you let these veg chill, particularly the sweet potato because that helps it firm up. But also it’s just more delicious when these veg are cold. Peel the beets or sweet potatoes and cut the beets into thick matchsticks or the sweet potatoes into cubes.
+ The Accents
Version 1: with Feta, Marjoram, and Parsley
Version 2: with Roasted Almonds, Parmesan, and Parsley
Accents are what give simple dishes like this salad get their most distinctive personalities. But it’s also where you can rifle through your pantry and go a little crazy. Nuts, seeds, dried fruit? That bottle of walnut oil you got while on vacation, or the chili oil that you made for a recipe months ago and forgot about? Crispy fried shallots, a lingering scallion, a pinch of pickled onions, fresh herbs threatening to bid adieu? Make them accents.
Which isn’t to say that accents need to be complicated, or that you should dump the whole pantry on top of your salad. The Coco Chanel rule applies to salads just as it does outfits. For this salad I wanted a savory, creamy element, to offset the zingy brightness of the dressed cabbage and the sweetness roasted vegetables, plus a touch of herb for freshness. Use whatever herbs you’ve got (skew towards the tender ones, rather than woodsy rosemary or sage), and if you don’t have any, skip them.
For my beet salad, I added a few slabs of feta, followed by some minced parsley and roughly chopped marjoram leaves (which I don’t often have, but happened to have then—and were lovely). For my sweet potato version, having no feta or marjoram, I added a handful of coarsely chopped almonds to add some earthiness (which beets have but sweet potatoes don’t) and a bunch of shaved parmesan for some savoriness, as well as a handful of whole parsley leaves. Crumbled goat cheese, little cubes of cheddar (I love cheddar and almonds together), pecorino—any assertive cheese would work here.
= A Nice Composed Cabbage Salad
You’re ultimately going to just mix everything together, but part of the exercise of building recipes like this one is taking the time to do it with intention. Compose your salad, don’t just toss it. You can assemble individually or on a family-style platter or bowl, or directly into tupperware if you plan to eat later. Arrange a pile of the dressed cabbage (again, taste it, make sure it’s good on its own), then the prepared roasted vegetables on top. Dribble some more vinegar (adding a spritz of lemon or lime juice if you’d like) over the vegetables and drizzle with about a tablespoon of olive oil (you don’t need much). Then scatter the accents over the top, finishing with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Assembled like this, the salad will keep for a day or two in the fridge in tupperware, and then you can mix it together just before eating. That’s it.
Enjoy! Please let me know the ways you end up making this kind of salad your own.