Cabbage Is Cool

My new favorite way to roast cabbage; plus, a lush green sauce to go with.

Is it time to talk about cabbage? I think it is.

When I hear the word “cabbage,” I think humble food, peasant food, slaws, soups, sauerkraut, Eastern Europe, babushkas, poverty, sadness, blah. I also think about kimchi, but kimchi is vibrant and lovely, which really undermines the tone I’m trying to set here. And yes, I guess sauerkraut is vibrant and lovely too. Okay, I’m backing myself into a cabbage corner here. The point is this: cabbage is many things, but it is not sexy. I associate it with tales of strife and making ends meet; I see slotted spoons lifting flaccid, dripping leaves out of boiling water; and I think of heavy sauces and heavier meats. I kind of just get depressed.

Is this reasonable? Of course not. It’s such a narrow and warped view of an incredibly versatile and flavorful vegetable. But despite any number of delicious preparations I’ve had, I’ve historically spurned cabbage for its trendier cousins kale, cauliflower, and of course - the Cindy Brady of brassicas — Brussels sprouts.

Curiously, over the past 18 months or so, I’ve become cabbage-curious. I really can’t pinpoint what caused this or where it started, but I think it had something to do with a trio or recipes.

First I encountered Andy Baraghani’s Spicy and Grilled Cabbage with Chopped Peanut Vinaigrette from The Cook You Want To Be. I chose it because grilling vegetables is always fun (never have to worry about salmonella!), and it was also the only dish that worked for the thicket of dietary preferences at that evening’s potluck. I loved this recipe, even though the cabbage took longer than expected to soften and the seasoning didn’t quite penetrate the inner layers. Despite these foibles, I was delighted by the nutty flavors of the browned leaves. Grilled cabbage, it turned out, was great! I pledged to cook more cabbage.

I kept my promise when I later served Molly Baz’s Charred Cabbage with Salty Peanuts and Nuoc Cham for a Friendsgiving. Searing the cabbage in a skillet and then finishing the job in the oven was much easier than standing over a grill, even if it felt a bit less dramatic. Once again - a home run that looked as vibrant as it tasted.

And then there was Carla Lalli Music’s Purple Cabbage and Parm Salad, which was billed as a cheap and surprisingly filling dish, made from just a few sparing ingredients. I made it, I ate it, I loved it (but caveat emptor: the leftovers don’t keep well).

After these three recipes, a paradigm-shifting notion struck me: I was a cabbage person.

I guess now would be a good time to make an obvious disclaimer: I have not discovered cabbage. I’m not here to tell you that cabbage is the planet’s best kept secret. German, Russian, and Korean cultures (as well as many others) realized this centuries ago. But I, Ben Mandelker — cabbage convert and reformed eye-roller — am now on board with the cabbage revolution. And by revolution I mean “thing that was always there and was just waiting for me to catch up.”

Nowadays, I’m looking for ways to lean in to cabbage. Specifically, roasted cabbage. No shade to boiled, stuffed, or any other cabbage — which I do enjoy greatly — I’m just loving roasted cabbage the most at the moment. I’ve played around a little bit — throwing wedges into the air fryer with surprisingly lovely results — but everything I’ve made has felt very much like glorious side dishes. Is there a world in which roasted cabbage plays the main?

Enter Cook’s Illustrated. The January/February 2024 issue boasts a roasted cabbage recipe (“Cabbage Goes Glam”) so visually arresting that I nearly gasped when I first saw it. The only thing stopping me from gasping at the cabbage photo was my fear that someone would actually see me gasping at a cabbage photo. That would just be mortifying. Still, those charred cabbage leaves splaying out from their tender core had me expediting this recipe to the front of my cooking queue. Glam cabbage? Yes please! I needed to roast some cabbage, and I needed to roast it now.

A fun perk of the Cook’s Illustrated recipe is that it comes with three suggested sauces and accompaniments: mustard, bacon and cream; breadcrumbs, sage, and parmesan; and gochujang, sesame and scallions. I loved the idea of not just roasting cabbage wedges but dressing them up too. It was giving main course energy — exactly what I wanted.

And so, after having procured a cabbage, I set about making this recipe. It was shockingly easy. I sliced the cabbage into 8 wedges, brushed each side with oil, and then sprinkled with salt and pepper. Then I threw them on a sheet pan, covered with foil, and roasted at 500°F (500 degrees!) for twenty minutes. Lastly, I removed the foil and continued roasting — ten minutes more on each side. Done. The whole thing took 40 minutes.

I was surprised by the aluminum foil interlude in this recipe — not something I often encounter when roasting — but the foil allowed the cabbage to release steam, which subsequently ensured even, thorough cooking. Once the cabbage went uncovered, the super high temps yielded Instagram-worthy caramelization without causing anything to dry out.

Turns out this method emulates Cook’s Illustrated famously successful recipe for Brussels sprouts. Brussels sprouts are just tiny cabbages, argues author Andrea Geary. Why not scale up the same steam-then-brown approach that had been such a hit for the sprouts?

Welp, Geary’s logic — and method — won me over. Her recipe created crispy-on-the-outside, tender-on-the-inside cabbage nirvana. Without a doubt, this was the best cabbage I had made in my nascent cabbage-obsessed era. It had all the flavor of my previous attempts without any of the uneven cooking. Every leaf felt soft and delicious, not just the elite exterior ones that had been exposed to the most heat. The steam-driven Act I was a real game changer for this cabbage.

But also! Slicing the cabbage into eighths instead of quarters (as per other recipes I’ve made) should not be overlooked either. This allowed the heat AND the seasoning to be so much more effective. I feel kind of silly passing off “smaller wedges!” as some sort of hack, but this is one of those deeply obvious modifications that I’m shocked I wasn’t already doing. Going forward, even if a recipe calls for quarters, I’m doing eighths.

But let’s not bury the headline. This, my friends, is THE recipe.

I couldn’t quite say the same for the breadcrumb, sage, and parmesan topping. It was nice. But the crumbly accompaniment didn’t necessarily augment the experience as much as I was hoping. In my quest to find a roasted cabbage main dish, I wanted something a bit more robust and hearty.

Two weeks later, I made the cabbage again, but instead of using one of Cook’s Illustrated’s recommended accompaniments, I decided to go rogue. I would play around with a pesto. A thick pesto.

While the cabbage roasted away, I threw a large handful of toasted cashews in the blender, along with a bundle of dill, a garlic clove, olive oil, white wine vinegar, and lemon juice. I then thinned it out with water until the mixture was the viscosity of yogurt. After seasoning with salt and pepper, I had a bright, green, addictively delicious sauce. This…this… was it.

Because it would be a shame to hide the cabbage’s gorgeously browned leaves under a blanket of pesto, I instead slathered the green stuff on a plate and placed the wedges on top. The key here, I learned, was to use a semi-snug serving dish: wide enough to provide some negative space around the cabbage, but tight enough that the wedges needed to overlap like shingles. Why? Because it’s fun. Plus, a dish like this deserves bonus dill on top, and the shingles create natural nooks and crannies for the herbs to accumulate in.

The pesto, I’m proud to report, paired perfectly with the cabbage and elevated the whole recipe to the Hearty Zone™. At last, main dish energy. In my pursuit to incorporate more vegetarian dishes into my diet in 2024, this cabbage has now earned a top spot in the weeknight pantheon. I plan to make it for months to come — both with and without the pesto. It’s so simple, so delicious, so fast, and so ripe for experimentation. Without a doubt, the Cook’s Illustrated roasted cabbage goes in the rotation.

If this is a dish you’re interested in adding to your quiver, keep reading.

Some minor tips + an attempt to recreate the pesto recipe:

1. The cabbage needs oillll. I’ve found quite honestly that the cabbage wedges require more oil than the 3Tbs the recipe calls for. You can maybe make the oil streeeeetch with a small enough cabbage, but it will be hard. I start with the initial 3 Tbs in a ramekin and brush it on the wedges until I run out. Then I refill, one tablespoon at a time, until I’ve finished “painting” the cabbage. Alternatively, you can probably just add the oil to the sheet pan and toss the wedges until properly lubed up.

2. Add a dash of turmeric. Brushing cabbage wedges with oil is trickier than it seems because it’s not always easy to tell if your coating is consistent or sufficient. My workaround is to add turmeric to the oil — not for flavor, but for color. The turmeric acts like a dye and allows me to better track which parts of the cabbage have been brushed.

3. Don’t engage in premature roastjaculation The recipe notes that once uncovered, the wedges may be cooked for five to ten minutes per side. It’s tempting to just do a tight five on each side, but my experience with roasting recipes is that they always take longer than stated - especially if your cabbage is large. Don’t try to cut corners here. After you remove the foil, keep the wedges in the oven the full ten minutes per side, no less. You want deep char on the edges, not some sad semi-browning. Roast until these wedges should look like leafy fingerprints.

4. GO BIG GREEN! I have a small update since I published the column: this recipe is not as successful with red cabbage. It’s good, and it could probably be adapted with some easy trial and error, but for optimal results use green cabbage, as per the recipe’s instructions.

Okay, here is my best attempt to recreate my pesto. I eyeballed it when I made it, which is annoying in retrospect, but I think we can do this. (A more prudent writer would just remake the pesto and mark down the measurements, but I’m not prudent. If I ever write a cookbook, I will be sure to have this recipe locked down by then).

Recipe: Cashew and Dill Pesto

Inspired by Bonnie’s Frumkin’s method for Perlovka Salad.

The Ingredients

1.5 bunches of dill, divided

1 garlic clove, whole

1/2 cup cashews (which you should roast, but I get it if that’s annoying for you)

1/2 - 3/4 cup olive oil

juice of half a lemon plus more, if needed

1 tsp vinegar (white wine, red wine, rice wine all work well here)

salt and pepper to season

The Steps

1. Roughly chop one bunch of dill - stems too if you want - and toss in a blender or food processor. Add the garlic gloves and pulse until everything is pretty chopped up.

2. Add the cashews and process until everything is chopped finely.

3. With the machine still running, slowly drizzle in your olive oil, checking the consistency after the first 1/2 cup. If it’s still super thick, drizzle in the remaining 1/4 cup. Don’t worry if it’s still too thick. There’s more thinning agents coming.

4. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon into the mixture and add 1 tsp of vinegar. Add several twists of black pepper until it’s as peppery as you like. Also add salt, adding 1 tsp at a time and then blending and then tasting until it’s the flavor you like. If it tastes too sour or bitter or unremarkale, the pesto is underseasoned. Add more salt.

5. If the pesto’s consistency is still thicker than yogurt, add a teaspoon of water and blend. Repeat until it looks just right. Don’t worry if you go too thin by accident. It will still be great with the cabbage.

6. Do one last seasoning check in case the water may have dilluted flavors.

7. Spoon the sauce onto a wide plate and pile the cabbage wedges on top. You can drop them haphazardly or make a cool shingle pattern. Roughly chop or tear half of your second bunch of dill and scatter liberally over the dish. Don’t be shy. Make it look like dill snow, not dill flurries.

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What are your favorite cabbage recipes? Do you have any sauces you love to pair with it?