Devonne Brown

I got out the onions, cabbage, and Worcestershire sauce. I meant business. My day sucked and my socks were still wet. I’d made the decision in the car while the windshield wipers kept time to “I’ll Fly Away,” sung by Kanye West. The rapping, singing nut job of the music industry I loved to hate. He sure could sing that hymn though. Maybe he left those lost marbles in the church choir.

I opened the can of tomatoes and plugged in the instant pot, sprayed the big inner kettle. My cabbage stuff was going to make me happy. I was tired of every petulant angst riddled child growling in self preservation. How dare I ask them to learn something. I threw hamburger into the hot pot and listened to it sizzle. It’s hiss released some of my steam as well.

There was nothing like the chopping of the cabbage, my twelve inch blade, pounding into a half head of hard green leaves. I made precise one inch square cuts while the burger poppies and browned. The precision with which I minced the onion was magnificent. I could feel the tension leave me as I watched my hands do something right. 

The smells waftting up from the instant pot, and the fresh green wet scent of onion and cabbage, blended with the tang of the Worcestershire Sauce. Dinner was going to be good. Waves of stress were falling on the floor and shattering like china, bursting out in concentric shock rings.

I tossed everything I chopped, a can of tomatoes, some spices and a third of a cup of Worcestershire Sauce into the pressure cooker and set it for nine minutes. I had half an hour to kill before the deconstructed cabbage rolls were done. 

It was time to change into house slippies, sweat pants, and a hoodie. Except for adding the rice in ten minutes, my mission was accomplished. Rainy cold nights call for spicy hot food in big bowls. I’d made it. I’d survived the day to come home and do one good thing, make one good thing.

We call it the Cabbage Stuff and it pairs nicely with wine.