KITCHEN COPY: C IS FOR CONFIT

It could have been the alcohol. But more likely it was just foolish pride…

Having paid good money for my culinary education, I wasn’t about to let myself be upstaged by some amateur food enthusiast. Especially not in front of others. Small matter that one of those “others” was my new love interest, and Mr. food enthusiast’s ex-girlfriend. No. When it came to food, the two of us were both forces not to be reckoned with. Seems obvious to me now that we would violently clash at some point. And to think, the evening had started off with such promise.

It was St. Patrick’s Day, 2003. A day I’ll never forget. I had started dating a girl who ran a small organic farm where I volunteered. She loved food, and being half Irish she enjoyed celebrating the holiday by consuming copious amounts of Guinness and obscene quantities of corned beef. It was still early in our relationship, and I wasted no opportunity to cook for her. That St. Patty’s Day was going to be over-the-top. I had started early that morning preparing the carrots, cabbage, and potatoes. I trimmed the brisket with the patience of a heart surgeon. Everything was going to be perfect. She was worth it. Too bad I was cooking for her ex-stud as well.

He had grown on me over the course of the day. His love for food, and his obvious respect for my new lady, were endearing. Looking back on it, the dinner may have gone completely without a hitch. If it weren’t for a slightly undercooked brisket. That said, I like to think it was the ex’s fault. At least, I like to remember it that way…it couldn’t have been my brisket.

After enjoying a couple beers, everyone found his or her place at the table. With the aromas pouring into the dining room, the place smelled great. I laid everything out on a platter and proudly delivered it to the table. Each of us took in the sight briefly before I began carving the meat. It was then everything took a turn for the worse. The brisket was tough. Had I only been serving my gal, we could have worked through it and moved on to something more interesting. But by this time the alcohol was taking effect, and I was beginning to sweat with embarrassment. I took one bite and marched off dejectedly into the kitchen. Ashamed, I spent the next twenty minutes beating the heck out of an innocent bean pot.

At some point I remember hearing the word confit projected from the other room. Mr. food enthusiast was (rather poorly) attempting to define it. He was going on and on about how it “preserves the meat.” Having listened to enough, I reentered the room and began shouting, “It can be anything! As long as it’s cooked in its own juices!”

“Yes.” Mr. food enthusiast agreed, rather smugly I recall. “…and it’s a method of preserving.”

He was right, of course. But so was I. Pronounced Kohn-FEE, Webster’s New World Dictionary of Culinary Arts defines it as “A method of preserving meats, especially poultry, associated with southwestern France; the meat is cooked in its own fat and stored in a pot covered with the same fat.” However, as anyone visiting a restaurant today would agree, the aforementioned definition lacks a certain modernity. Today’s chefs push confit far beyond the borders of that limited definition. Primo, in Rockland Maine, served lemon confit on their dessert menu. Lemon confit!

This week, let us push it a little further. With this delicious Red Cabbage Confit, you’ll be impressing (and arguing with) your guests in no time. But remember: you may need confit to spell conflict, but you don’t need conflict to eat confit…

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When it comes to freshness, you want to look for dark ruby-red cabbage heads that are solid and firm. Avoid those with dark spots which may be signs of old age or bugs. Large heads tend to be tougher, therefore you should attempt to acquire smaller ones.

To begin preparing the cabbage, you will want to remove any loose or detached outer layers.

Cut the cabbage head through the stem into four pieces. (When cutting the red cabbage, a stainless steel knife is preferred. A carbon knife may discolor the leaves)

Cut out the hard, white core that is attached to the base of each quarter.

Red Cabbage Confit

1 small head red cabbage, trimmed and quartered through the stem
3 tablespoons butter
7 shallot lobes, sliced
4 apples, peeled, cored, and sliced thin
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
5 cloves
1 onion, sliced into four wedges
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon sugar

Instructions:

1. Cut the cabbage quarters crosswise into 1/4-inch slices, which will fall apart into shreds as the cabbage cooks.

2. In a large saute pan over medium heat, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter until foaming.

Add the shallot and simmer over medium heat until translucent, 3 to 5 minutes.

Add the cabbage and apple, tossing to coat with the butter.

Add the vinegar and cook for 1 minute.

Push the cloves into the onion wedges

and add to the pan, along with the bay leaf, sugar, and salt.

Pour in the wine.

3.Cover and simmer over low heat for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until the cabbage is relaxed and most of the liquid has evaporated. Then simmer, uncovered, until the liquid is completely gone, stirring from time to time so the cabbage does not stick to the pan, about another 1/2 hour. The cabbage should be a vibrant fuchsia color and have a sharp berry scent. Season to taste with sugar and salt; 5 minutes before serving, stir in the remaining tablespoon of butter and the parsley. Discard the onions and bay leaves and serve hot. Or, cook a day ahead of time and reheat before service. Reheating for forty minutes in a 350 degree oven yields an especially jelly-like confit that I find preferable.

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