I’m going to tell you a story you maybe don’t want to hear. It has a delicious, happy ending though. Although the happy part comes before the really bad part , thus making it not exactly an ending, I suppose.
I was making my second “I don’t like cabbage” cabbage recipe last week and I was coring the cabbage for the cabbage with peas (“Bund gobi aur matar”). I had just sharpened my knife and figured cutting around the core of the cabbage wouldn’t be a big deal, and then I could just slice the rest of it easily, instead of rather painstakingly trying to cut around it. Except my knife went right through the cabbage and grazed my hand between my thumb and index finger. It wasn’t bad. I just took a paper towel and kept going. It was a clean cut, thanks to the knife being sharp. Better a sharp knife than a dull one!
So the point is that anyone can mess up. I have decent knife skills, but how often do I core cabbage? Is there a proper cabbage-coring technique? A way it should be done always? One little kitchen slip can lead to a messy clean-up and a spoiled dinner. Fortunately mine wasn’t spoiled, AND I had an excuse to leave the dishes, since I didn’t want to make the cut worse or get it infected, or deal with the stinging pain when it hit the soap or water.
So I went on making the dish, berating myself for being so silly and such a bad cook. The dish worked out fine, though, and it was delicious, and I encourage you to make it. But the thing is, I went to a friend’s to get a bandaid later that night around 10pm because I apparently don’t have any of those, and I figured it was about time I disinfected myself and got patched up. Except this friend took one look at the cut, winced, and said, “Um…that’s kind of deep. You should probably go to the hospital.” And I sighed, and said, “Really? It’s not that bad. Besides, how am I supposed to get to the hospital?” (I had legs and a bike and a cut hand. That’s all.) No one I knew could give me a ride, but I gave in to my friend’s insistence and biked to the Verdun Hospital emergency room at 11pm. “Make it look like it’s bad,” my friend had advised, so I’d be seen by a doctor more quickly. So he’d wrapped my hand in an entire spool of gauze. I could have lost half my fingers, I had on so much gauze.
4 hours. That’s how long it took to see the one doctor on duty and get 6 stitches. I’ve actually never had stitches before and the black wire makes me feel more cyborg than human. I keep looking at my hand and thinking an earwig is crawling on me. Really? This is how we heal people? We stitch them up with needles? The resident doctor was young and very nice and didn’t seem tired at 2am at all. Her equally friendly boss came in to check her handiwork, which got approved. The receptionists were even cheery, eating poutine from a local casse-croute, and the whole experience was fine, really. Except I biked myself home at 3am. It was a nice night at least, and I didn’t have to change gears on the relatively flat route. And I’d at least had a good dinner. And my thumbs works. And that’s the most important part, really. No more stupidly coring cabbage…
Indian Cabbage with Peas
Serves 4-6
450-550g (1-1 1/4 lb) cabbage (one large cabbage), cut into long thin threads. Don’t try to take the core out first. Just cut the cabbage in half, place it cut side-down on a cutting board, and cut in toward the core from each side. Then cut around the core, always having a flat side on the cutting board and avoiding your fingers. Those are important.
1 small bag frozen peas (about 150g or 1 1/2 cups)
2 tbsp sunflower or vegetable oil
2 tsp whole cumin seeds
2 bay leaves or 3 curry leaves
1/4 tsp ground turmeric
1/4 tsp cayenne
1 fresh hot green chili pepper, seeded and diced
3/4 tsp salt
3/4 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp garam masala (fresh is much better than store-bought. Recipe below. Make it in advance or while the cabbage is cooking)
Directions:
Place the bag of frozen peas in a bowl of warm water and break apart the chunks in the bag until your hands are too cold to break anymore. Or wear gloves : ). Remove from the water and set aside (You can leave the peas in the bag or take them out, but the bag will drip everywhere, so a strainer or a bowl is a good idea).
Measure all the ingredients and have them ready to go.
Heat the oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. When hot add the cumin seeds and bay leaves. Coat the bay leaves in oil and then add the cabbage. Stir for 30 seconds, then add the turmeric and cayenne. Stir again, then cover and reduce the heat to low. Cook for about 7 minutes or until the cabbage is tender. Add a little water if the pot dries out, but cabbage has a lot of water in it so it should be fine. Add the peas, salt, sugar, and green chili. Stir, recover, and cook for another 3 minutes, or until the peas are soft but not mushy or wilting. Remove from heat and stir in the garam masala. Serve now or when it cools slightly. You taste more when it’s a little cooler. This is also amazing on day 2 and 3, whether or not you’re nursing 6 stitches.
Garam Masala
2 tbsp whole coriander seeds
2 tbsp whole cumin seeds
1 tbsp whole black peppercorns
1 one-inch cinnamon stick
10 green cardamom cloves
1 tsp whole cloves
1 tsp whole fennel seeds
5 bay leaves
Place spices in dry skillet and roast over medium heat for 2 minutes, or until aromatic. Remove spices to a bowl and let cool. When cool, grind spices in a spice grinder, a coffee grinder, a mortar and pestle, or in a plastic bag with a heavy saucepan or mallet (remove air from bag and hold end closed). Necessity is, after all, the mother of invention. Store in an airtight container for up to 6 weeks.
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