• five-dollar curtido

    A couple months ago, my sister-in-law lobbed a couple cabbages at me. Or maybe it was just one enormous one? I can’t remember. Anyways, I got me some cabbage(s).

    Which instantly created problems. Because while I like cabbage, and my family eats it well enough (when leveled with a series of my most hairy eyeballs), I don’t have any great preservation methods. So we eat it fresh or braised or in soups or whatever. It always ends up feeling like cabbage feast or famine.

    But then I discovered curtido. Come to think of it, I may have discovered curtido before my sister-in-law chucked her cabbage(s) at me? Did I buy a cabbage from somewhere?

    Hm, can’t remember. My brain’s a muddle. 

    ANYWAY. Point is, I made curtido and loved it. And then I made it again. (And then, I think, again? Whatevs.) I found the recipe on the New York Times Cooking email that pops into my inbox every several days, but then when I went to write about it, I discovered I was blocked. They had a new policy and in order to see the actual recipe I’d need to pay five dollars a month.

    Briefly, I fumed. The audacity! The inconvenience! But then, sigh, I signed up. That’s how badly I wanted the recipe! Even though there are hundreds of other curtido recipes splattered across the Internets, I wanted that one, so humph. (I haven’t gone completely off the deep end; after this month, I’ll cancel the subscription, don’t worry.)

    There’s nothing fancy about the recipe (and after all that trouble, too, I bet you thought it was all sorts of exotic, ha): Just shredded cabbage and onion, packed in a jar and then covered with a heavily-salted and lightly-seasoned brine. Prepared like so, the cabbage just sits in the fridge for weeks on end, much like refrigerator pickles. The finished product isn’t even all that exciting.

    Except—EXCEPT—for when it’s paired with beans. A scoop of curtido alongside a pile of rice and beans is an oo-la-la game changer. The salty cabbage adds crunch, salt, and tangy-zip. It makes my husband, the not-a-bean-fan grouch, actually smile and—get this—rave. So yeah, this curtido is nothing short of revolutionary. Mark my words.

    My mother’s hopped aboard the curtido bandwagon. She’s cut down on the salt and is experimenting with different additions. She’s serious about the stuff. (Hey Mom, you there? If you have a sec, would you mind noting your methods/changes in the comments? xo!)

    with pupusas

    Also, Dad planted fall cabbages and just passed on a couple starts to me, so there should be plenty of curtido in our collective futures, hip-hip!

    Five-Dollar Curtido
    Adapted from the New York Times Cooking website.

    With 2 tablespoons of salt, it’s quite salty. You could easily cut back to 1 tablespoon and be just fine. It might even be better that way.

    1 pound cabbage, shredded
    ½ medium onion, sliced thin
    ½ cup white vinegar
    1-2 tablespoons salt
    ½ teaspoon dried oregano
    1-2 pinches ground cumin
    ¼ teaspoon black pepper

    Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Add 1-2 cups of cold water. Mix well. Pack into a half-gallon jar, pressing the veggies down so they are covered with the brine. Let sit at room temp for a day (or three) before transferring to the refrigerator. Serve with beans and rice, tacos, pulled pork, pupusas, etc.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (9.5.16), rainy day writing, pear tarts, a quick rundown, say cheese!.

  • the quotidian (9.4.17)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace



    Monster melon.

    Coming in October: Agnes of God. I’m the psychiatrist.

    Continual soundtrack: Just GO, will you?

    She wanted a lesson so I delegated.

    Stuck popcorn kernel (probably): I can feel it but no one can see it.

    Every night she takes Velvet out to pee. Makes cleaning the stall easier.

    Beyond excited: a weekend wildnerness camping trip with friends (no adults!) in the rain and cold.

    Entryway whiteboard inspiration.
    (So I think it’s probably safe to assume that the two older kids did a lot of growing this weekend.)

    This same time, years previous: in my kitchen: 5:25 p.m., the cousins came, the quotidian (9.2.13), the quotidian (9.3.12), roasted tomato and garlic pizza sauce, roasted peaches, picture perfect, honey whole wheat cake, blueberry coffee cake.

  • southern sweet tea

    A few weeks ago, a reader (hi, Tracy!) left a comment on my post about cold-brewed iced tea:

    I worked in a small cafe for a while and their ice tea was sooooo smooth and delicious. I received the secret from the owner. A large batch of ice tea always got a big pinch of baking soda after brewing. 

    What in the world?? I’d never heard the likes! I did a quick Internet search and sure enough, baking soda in iced tea is totally a thing. As in, everyone does it. The reason, they say, is that the baking soda counteracts the tannins in the tea, making the drink smoother.

    So I promptly brewed up a batch (hot, not cold) and sure enough, it was superb. I’ve always thought sugar was responsible for cutting the acidity of iced tea and that I’ve never been that partial to iced tea because I often skimp on the sugar. But maybe it’s the actual bitterness of the tea that’s always deterred me? Does the addition of baking soda mean that I can get away with less sugar?

    I don’t know yet. I’ve only made the tea according to the recipe. Our weather’s just turned cool (now I’m craving hot drinks, not cold), but sooner or later, I will. In the meantime, here’s the recipe. It’s supposed to be classic Southern: sweet, but not sweet sweet.

    Southern Sweet Tea
    Adapted from Garden Betty.

    Feel free to jazz this up with lemon wedges and fresh mint. A splash of bourbon doesn’t hurt either.

    4 black tea bags (I used decaffeinated Lipton)
    ¾ cup sugar
    ¼ teaspoon baking soda

    Bring 8 cups of water to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat, add the tea bags and baking soda and stir gently. Cover with a lid and steep for 5-10 minutes.

    In a small saucepan, combine the sugar with 1 cup of water. Simmer until the sugar is dissolved 

    Remove the tea bags and stir in the sugar syrup. Chill and serve.

    This same time, years previous: blueberry muffins, way to go, kids, the quotidian (9.1.14), caramelized oatmeal topping, dreaming.