Ingredients

　　

Step 1

The words hang heavy, wretched with disappointment. In reality, few things edible cheer me up more than a plate of cabbage freshly lifted from the steam, the colors clear and bright, the leaves singing with life. I add nothing save lemon and sometimes black pepper, coarse from the grinder. As a rule, my cabbage isn’t boiled or even steamed, only blanched. Dipped briefly into boiling water, the leaves cook more quickly, and seem to stay a livelier color than when they are steamed. The water must be deep and at a rollicking boil. A little salt can go in, though I often forget, and then the leaves. No lid. I leave them for a minute or two. They won’t look ready but they will be by the time you have grabbed the oven mitts with which to lift the pot to sink and drained them. Vibrant, exhilarating even, when placed on a stark white plate.

　　

Step 2

If naked vegetables don’t stir your juices, then a drizzle of balsamic vinegar, a dusting of grated Parmesan, a puddle of almost-melted butter, or a coating of mustardy French dressing just might.

　　Tender