Intestinal Casings of the gods: German Apple Cabbage with Potato and Sausage

Few today would consider cabbage to be an underused ingredient. In fact, few probably think of cabbage at all these days unless they are German, Korean or particularly Kentuckian, who consider coleslaw to be an acceptable accompaniment to everything but dessert. Typically cabbage is used as either a vehicle for other, “better” food (as in cabbage wraps here in Lebanon), a side, or a textural addition to a dish intended to stretch and flavor it a bit. But even this is often done somewhat apologetically, with the cabbage shredded and hidden away like some sort of denatured hunchback child. In the states, supermarkets cram them in the back of the produce aisles next to the esoteric tubers and leeks to keep them out of sight of the more respectable customers and to protect clueless husbands who might mistake the green ones for lettuces.

And I won’t even mention red cabbages. Okay, just one thing. Apparently pregnant women used to make broth of the juice and then micturate into it to see if they were having a boy or a girl since one or the other was supposed to make your pee more acidic. According to whatever witchcraft devised this notion, the pH of the pee would affect the color of the broth, making it slightly more purple… or less, I never remember which. Regardless, it all sounds like a load of micturition to me.

When properly done, cabbage is a thing of beauty. It conveys flavors and richens food like few other vegetables can, and it’s mercifully cheap for those eating on a budget. This almost makes up for the gaseous side effects which probably contributed to cabbage’s exile in the first place, which actually makes a lot of sense since the cultures that feature it most prominently also tend to be the ones that also cook with large volumes of vinegar and onion.

In Lebanon, cooking with cabbage presents its own unique challenges. Namely getting the damn things home. Because the Lebanese usually use them for wraps, they favor the larger varieties, which often reach about 2 feet in diameter and a few kilos in weight. You can often see the sympathy in the eyes of the vendors when you desperately ask them if they have anything smaller. But they do not.

Since we can’t get the German sausage that would go most naturally with these dishes, I’ve decided to use the aromatic Lebanese maqanaq sausages, which my wife hates, but which are oddly apt for the task with their cinnamon, clove, nutmeg and caraway seasonings. Plus, they’re cheap, like sausage is supposed to be.

The preparation requires a few steps that I like to keep separate. If you’re going to throw everything in a crock pot and ruin the individual flavors, you may as well stop reading now and go onto pinterest, you animal. You’ll need a big stockpot for the initial stewing, a frying pan and a baking pan.

Ingredients:

Oil

2 potatoes

2 apples

2 onions

1 pound of sausage

1 cabbage (red would be best, it’s milder and richer)

1/3 cup raw sugar

1/3 cup apple cider vinegar

1/2 cup dark beer

1 tsp grainy mustard
1 tsp caraway

2 bay leaves

Salt 

Pepper

Step 1: Preparation

Shred the cabbage and put it in a big bowl. Slice the onions in half and then into thin rings, put them in another bowl. Peel the apples and slice them thinly, put aside. Slice the potatoes as you would steak fries, rinse and put aside in their own bowl.

Step 2: The Stew

Mix the sugar, vinegar, beer, bay leaves, mustard and caraway in a bowl and set aside.

Heat a pan, then add a few tablespoons of oil to it. When it’s hot, toss in the onions and caramelize them halfway, then remove ¼ of them for future use on a page. Add the apples and cook for a few minutes, then dump in the sweet, vinegary mix you’ve made in the first step above. (Rinse the bowl with beer to ensure you get all the sugar in. Plus, more beer!).

Add the cabbage, mix to coat and cover. As it cooks down begin to salt and test it. You’ll want to do this several times since the cooking cabbage will change the flavor over time and you'll end up needing quite a bit to tame the sweetness.  Stew for about an hour while attempting to manage your irrepressible impulse to idly stir it every few minutes.

Step 3-4ish

Heat a pan and then add the sausages, browning them on their sides. Remove and reserve.

Add oil to the pan, salt it, then dump in your potatoes. Fry them up until they darken a bit on the sides but aren’t necessarily cooked through. Remove, drain and reserve for later.

Step 5: Baking.

Preheat the oven to 400. Add the cabbage and remaining liquid to the bottom of the glass pan, top with the reserved caramelized onions  then the potatoes and sausage. Cover with foil and bake for 20 minutes, then 20 minutes uncovered. The oils will seep down into the cabbage and the flavors will meld nicely. 

Serve in a big pile on a plate, fishing out bay leaves so that the ignorant don't try to eat them. Sour cream or lebneh (strained yogurt) is actually a nice accompaniment.