Sometime I can’t resist buying produce because of it’s color: neon-green cauliflower, fire-red carrots or golden beets.  This time it was an old friend, purple cabbage.  I knew I shouldn’t have bought it for the meal I was making because I’ve only used it with German or Eastern-European meals in the form of sweet and sour cabbage with apples.  I was making pasta.  But after thinking it through I came up with a stunningly easy and versatile dish that was the star of the meal.  I’ll be making it over and over again this winter, either with red or green cabbage.  For the sweet component that purple cabbage harmonizes so well with, I used balsamic vinegar.  Although I got a little tired of balsamic vinegar for a while, I realized I was getting what I paid for, which was not much.  These days I’m still not buying aceto balsamico tradizionale, but I’m splurging for a better bottle, and using it thoughtfully.

singe-broiled cabbage

Core cabbage and cut into thin ribbons.  Toss in a bowl with just enough oil to lightly coat.  Scatter  on a foil-lined broiler pan and/or an old sheet pan in one layer -cook the cabbage in batches if necessary. Place under the broiler for a few minutes, stirring once, remove when just the edges have turned dark brown, a few caramelized pieces are nice. (If cooking in batches transfer the cabbage to a non-plastic bowl, cover with foil and set aside until all the cabbage is cooked.)
Toss the cabbage with sea salt or fleur de sel, freshly ground pepper, and some syrupy balsamic vinegar, all to taste.

A couple things are left in my garden.  Some leafy greens and herbs mostly.  I didn’t get enough use out of my tarragon this summer, but a week or two ago I made tarragon vinegar and my family went through a bottle before it even had time to cure properly.  Luckily my mother-in-law makes vinegar from wine that my father-in-law produces.  So I made up several more large bottles to take us through the year.  The vinegar tastes bright like summer, and I’m sure it will be welcome when we tire of the cold.

I’m not one for experimenting with flavored oils and vinegar, although maybe I should be.  I never think of using them when I’m following a recipe, and so they haven’t become a part of my improvisational technique either.

But tarragon vinegar is  different.  I tried it first at my grandma’s house (who has a keen palate and is peppy enough to land a husband 30 years her senior.)  It was one of those “oh!” moments.  And now it’s my favorite vinegar for a simple green salad.

So I was making tarragon vinegar, and my mother-in-law decides to try a complex recipe in which I had no interest.  But today when I tasted it, I had to hand it to her, it smelled like I was sitting at an Italian restaurant, having my server freshly grind black pepper onto my dish.  I hope she lets me use a little to experiment.

tarragon vinegar- empty a bottle of white whine vinegar into a clean bowl.  Rinse and pat dry enough fresh tarragon sprigs to fill the bottle.  Use as much as will fit easily.  Pour the vinegar back into the bottle with a funnel.  Cover and let sit 2 weeks.  Repeat the process, taking the old tarragon sprigs and replacing them with a couple of fresh ones (optional).  Use in a vinaigrette, or simply with olive oil, salt and pepper to dress a salad.

Italian herb vinegar- follow instructions for tarragon vinegar, but instead of tarragon, for every 6 cups of vinegar add 1 peeled garlic clove, 3 sprigs fresh basil, 4 sprigs of thyme, 1 sprig oregano and 25 nasturtium blossoms.   Cover and let set aside for 2 weeks.  Remove herbs, replace with a sprig or two of fresh herbs.

Last year before the neighbors cut down their apple trees (sigh), I went onto their property without asking (maybe that’s why), and picked up fallen apples, cut off the bad spots and made the most delicious applesauce I’d ever tried: just apples, fresh lemon juice, and a few gratings of fresh ginger.  I came into some more apples and made it again, this time, I had run out of lemons and fresh ginger, so I used bottled lemon juice and dried ginger.  Such a sad pot of applesauce.

As much as I had been looking forward this year to repeating that first applesauce I had made, I bought some nice plums at the farmer’s market and threw them in.  At first I regretted it.  When it was hot, the flavors were off with a strange aftertaste.  I added a little honey with the lemon juice and ginger.  I still wasn’t impressed, and resigned myself to being a purest.  The next day when I pulled it out of the refrigerator though, it was changed: full of flavor, no unpleasant aftertaste.  It actually tasted quite beautiful.  The plums added an end-of-summer flavor that bridged the fall flavor of the apples.  A very timely applesauce that made me realize there’s lots of room for improvisation with top-notch ingredients.

plum applesauce
I left the the plums unpeeled (they become tender), but you can peel them if you like.  Cut an X across the bottom, and place in boiling water for 30-60 seconds.  The peel should slip off.

5 lbs. cooking apples, peeled, cored, chopped
2 lbs. plums, peeled (optional), stones removed, chopped
honey or brown sugar, to taste
fresh lemon juice, to taste
fresh ginger, to taste

Put the apples and plums in a large pot and add an inch or two of water.  Cook over medium heat until the fruit begins to break down, stirring and adding more water as needed.  Turn the heat down to low, cover and simmer until the fruit is cooked through, mashing with the back of a spoon for a chunky texture, or putting in a food processor for a smooth texture.  Add the ginger, and continue cooking five more minutes.  Turn off the heat and let cool to room temperature.  Add the honey and lemon juice to taste, refrigerate and serve chilled.