What's stuffed cabbage got to do with it?

What's stuffed cabbage got to do with it?

I don’t remember tasting MomMom’s stuffed cabbage. My beloved grandmother died when I was in fifth grade. But somewhere along the way, I asked Auntie Char for MomMom’s recipe, which I consider a prized family heirloom.

We belong to a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). Recently, we received two ginormous heads of Chinese cabbage. It occurred to me that those leaves would work better for MomMom’s recipe than the heads of cabbage we usually buy in our super market.

Before cooking; the Chinese cabbage leaves worked really well.

The process made me a believer that smell is the most evocative of the senses. I was flung back to the old country (Odessa), pot simmering, house filled with an intensely familiar smell that must have crossed continents and centuries, because I have no memory of eating stuffed cabbage as a child. I felt like I was hearing (or smelling) the ancestors.

Post cooking (never eat it on the first day, it needs to sit for a day or two). Let me know if you’d like the recipe.

In my forthcoming novel, Three Muses, stuffed cabbage makes an appearance with the intent of evoking memories for the protagonist, John Curtin. I hadn’t made stuffed cabbage for years at the time I wrote that scene, so I was tickled to learn that making it in real life had such a powerful effect.

My interview with Jai Chakrabarti about his beautiful new novel, was just published. I wrote that “A Play for the End of the World is a love story that knits together a Warsaw Ghetto survivor with a play by Rabindranath Tagore. Chakrabarti’s debut novel explores Nazi horrors; the deracination experienced by refugees; and oppressive, deadly politics in India; all set against a tender and improbable love affair.” Yep, I’m definitely recommending it.

Sending love to all of you,
Martha

P.S. ICYMI, here’s my last newsletter: “Saying good-bye to our piano.”