A few minutes ago, I started cooking six pounds of (pre-shredded! the decadence!) red cabbage, to which I added apple cider vinegar, honey, and a bit of water. The recipe is cited as "Danish", as opposed to the one on the facing page which is "German". The cookbook was written by Danish-American expats living in Southern California, with a little help from their friends, as I'd mentioned before.
The smell wafting through the apartment right now touches me in some deep, comforting place—even though my mother's cabbage expertise began and ended at "white cabbage boiled until dead". I admit to a certain nostalgia for the sulfurous plume that arises from a good boiled dinner (e.g. corned beef and the aforementioned Really Most Sincerely Dead cabbage). The red cabbage smells like and unlike that, which is probably for the best.
Soon, I will (in accordance with the
prophecy recipe) add a dollop of pomegranate jelly, which was probably some kind of lingonberry preserve back in Ye Olde Country.
But I didn't "back-correct" it, even though I have a jar of lingonberry preserves in the refrigerator.
No, I find the pomegranate is a nice touch, withal: a reminder that we're not, in fact, in Ye Olde Country, and that, just as our foremothers of spirit cooked tasty, healthful food with what was to hand, so can we--with what comes to hand here in California, which does not include bog berries like lingonberries, but does include cabbage, apple, onions--and pomegranates.
Some other day, I will make the one from the "German" page.
It has bacon.
I'm making red cabbage because auntiematter won't be here to make and serve it herself--I don't have her recipe, but when she makes it, no matter how much she makes, she simply cannot make enough.
May mine go half so well.
PS: In the Chronicles of Westria, dpaxson immortalized the Santa Ynez Valley as the Danehold, a heathen enclave on Westria's southern border--hence the title here.
PPS: Well, Westria's southern border except for those years when the summer is rather too long and boring, and the young lads do what young lads do, which, given the givens, means "go raiding into Elaya and accidentally capture Santibar". What, doesn't every jarl want a deepwater port of his very own as a Midsummer present?