Peasants ate cabbage, and kings ate quail - at least that's what I thought till I came across one of the menus for Queen Victoria's banquets and there was 'buttered cabbage' among all the dishes with fancy French names.
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That cabbage probably was well and truly buttered, buttered, and buttered again, after being simmered in a rich stock. I suspect it was there simply because the Queen or her beloved Albert liked it, or approved of its healthful 'blood strengthening' properties. I'd like to say 'it was probably delicious' but as vegetables were boiled to sludge back then, it more likely resembled something pre-digested by a cow.
This is the perfect time to plant a cabbage, and Canberra has the perfect climate to do it. I'm talking old fashioned European cabbages here, the big round hard kind, whether green or red, not crinkly Savoy cabbages, which make the best coleslaw ever, with just a little red cabbage for colour and crunch, or the many Asian cabbages that grow fast, sweet and tender, nor kale, closer to the ancestral wild cabbage and worthy of a column on its own.
A big, firm cabbage will last for weeks when cut, unlike a giant pumpkin where you need to give half of it away fast, or make pumpkin soup and freeze it. Big firm cabbages can be shredded and stir-fried; shredded and sautéed in butter; shredded and turned into coleslaw. Simmer your cabbage at the lowest possible heat in rich stock for several hours and feed to a small, hungry horde. Individual cabbage leaves can also be softened in boiling stock, then neatly packaged with stuffing, either seasoned mince or leftover risotto or paella, possibly with some currants and pine nuts added, much as you might for stuffed vine leaves.
Do not add water to cabbage. Cabbage + water = a foul sulphur and dirty socks smell that will seep into your curtains and sofa coverings and linger for days.
Plant cabbage now, either as seed or conveniently from punnets. Plant red and green, small and pointed and large and round varieties, so they will mature at different times, and you'll have continuous eating from early winter through to late spring.
Don't delay - cabbages need good autumn growth so they have begun to heart by winter. The best cabbages then need a good hard frost to sweetened them. Canberra provides excellent hard frosts, as well as long glorious autumns.
Feed your cabbage well, and it will feed you well. Cabbage seedlings may also feed the snails well - snails adore cabbage seedlings and a whole planting may vanish overnight. Cut a dozen rings from a milk or soft drink bottle and press one into the soil around each seedling to make snail proof 'cups'. The cups can be reused each year.
Caterpillars can also demolish a seedling in a single day's munching, and even make serious inroads into a mature cabbage. There are various substances that will kill them, but it's easier to drape fruit fly netting over the cabbage patch so the cabbage white butterflies and cabbage moth butterflies can't lay their eggs on what should be your harvest, and not their nursery.
If you want the butterflies and cabbages, plant a decoy crop of kale or turnips and leave those for the butterflies and their offspring, while you keep the cabbages. After several drought and fire years with no butterflies at all, this year I'm even rejoicing in the cabbage whites, as well as all the others that miraculously appeared within months of the first good summer rain.
Just if case you wish to know your enemy, the cabbage moth is quite different from the cabbage white butterfly - the cabbage moth is greyish brown and hairy with yellow diamond-shaped markings when the wings are folded, but the caterpillars of both are green and devastate cabbages, cauliflowers and similar crops. Cabbage moth caterpillars, however, are a clearer green than cabbage white caterpillars and lack the velvety appearance and yellow stripe.
There are various soil deficiencies which can restrict cabbage size and health and any distortion of the leaves or failure to thrive is a sign that you need to feed your garden well, ASAP, before it dwindles even more and becomes depressing.
Pluck your cabbage whenever you feel like eating it, but before the first run of days over 24 degrees in spring, as your cabbages will probably run to seed as soon as the weather heats up after winter. In our climate, that may be August or December 21.
By then you should be as sick of cabbage as I temporarily am of zucchini, apple cucumbers, rhubarb and even basil. But just now, a dish piled high with just-picked cabbage, sweet from frost, stir-fried with a large amount of garlic, a small portion of chilli and just a little soy sauce, would feel like a feast for a queen.
This week I am:
- Turning two large boxes of Harrison's slightly overripe and gloriously fragrant tomatoes into many containers of frozen passata for winter, far better than anything bottled or in a can.
- Watching the first autumn leaves turn yellow or flagrant orange, exactly on March 1, as if they had been studying the calendar.
- Not even bothering to see what the zucchini bushes are doing.
- Rediscovering Golden Delicious apples, which are neither golden nor particularly delicious if cold stored but one of the most fragrant, crisp and sweet fruits if homegrown and picked within the last fortnight. For some reason we don't have a Golden Delicious apple tree - yet.
- Trying to remember to dry hydrangeas to fill winter vases, and peppermint for winter teas.
- Wondering if the cockatoos have left us any walnuts.