Cabbage

Yes, cabbage. I don’t like it. I’m not a fan of being near it and I would sooner rot in a cess pit than eat a traditional ‘Irish’ cabbage and bacon meal.

YET.

Today, I had the most bizarre craving of all 3 pregnancies. I wanted cabbage so badly, I got supremely irritated until I got some. For our dear Einstein, I have started buying massive cabbage heads and storing them out of smell and sight because the rabbit doesn’t eat rabbit food or carrots anymore. Only greens. So after hankering after a great ‘wodge’ (as Jamie Oliver would say) of buttery cabbage for about 2 hours, I finally got my mind over the infinite ickiness associated with the poor vegetable and roped in Hubby to dice up complements for me. Dizziness and sharp knives are not good together, so he chopped up my garlic and onion and I ‘sautéed’ or, realistically, fried-cum-steamed a lot of cabbage. 15 minutes of flipping and buttering and turning and smelling and making sure I wouldn’t throw up and guess what? I ATE IT ALL. I feel like a pre-schooler. I ate ALL my veggies.

It didn’t turn out like the limp, vile, odorous mank- akin to the preconception of Medieval dining- that is most often mine and people’s general conception of cabbage. It was yummy and buttery and crunchy and would have been even better with a couple of handfuls of cremated lardons too 😛

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