Earthy and Comforting Wild Rice, Parsnip, and Smothered Cabbage Soup
Because we needed something grounding here at the Department of Salad—and thought you might, too.
DURING INSANE TIMES, it’s easy to forget that you’re still a living, breathing human being with two feet on the ground and an elastic brain in your skull, rather than a figment of some AI-generated robot imagination, floating around the ether while stuffing your robot vector database with news—any news—that might help you make sense of it all. Or, at least, help you stop worrying, even for just one minute.
How did it happen, living in an era in which information is glued onto practically every atom in the universe, that we seem to be less informed about what is going on on this twirling loony bin of a planet than we did 40 years ago, when all a news-hungry gal needed to stay informed was the local paper, maybe a regional paper, a few national papers, and a handful of news magazines—along with nightly news from the three extant networks. Those were the days!
I realize I’m starting to sound like Andy Rooney. (Also, he was right about Daylight Savings Time.)
But come on: If knowledge is power, why is it that I, a woman who is absolutely chock full of it, have never felt so utterly powerless? As if I’m going to spin off the face of the earth if I read one more piece of nonfiction that reads like dystopian fiction.
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And I lately wonder: Would it be so awful if I did just float away, to Jupiter or Mars or whatever? Which is why I have begun setting aside at least an hour a day to read or listen to a book I enjoy, as if it were a lovely, distracting drug. In whatever free time remains, usually late at night, I’ll search for something distracting to stream—rarely finding anything since I have already watched everything on the internet twice—until it’s time to sleep (or lie there all night).
I believe that this is why news organizations offer games: because they know we need something to occupy our minds for 20 minutes or an hour (depending on how good you are at word puzzles) after we’ve scanned or downloaded all the bad news that we might not want to read but do anyway—because not knowing what is going on in the world really is not an option. At least not for me. So we pay the people who sell the news to then distract us from it. I mean LOL SOB, right?
And I also believe that cognitive overload, info-glut, analysis paralysis, brain saturation—whatever you want to call it— eventually comes for every consumer of news. Because I finally landed beyond the point of diminishing returns. I realized I’d been bouncing from media site to site, looking for news I could use but basically re-reading the same two or three stories, decorated with different photos or opinions. Smoke started coming out of my ears, my eyes began twirling in their sockets, and I started waving my arms around haphazardly (in my mind). It just did not compute.
Even if you’re as efficient as a robot (or are an actual robot), your brain can get so overstuffed that it stops doing its job. It’s called performance degradation. Refuse to recognize that it has happened—that you are trying to make sense of things that do not—at your own peril.
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This week, my recipes reflected this phenomenon. One of them kept failing, even though it was based on a recipe I’ve been making for 15 years. The other was just very undelicious—dare I say a bad idea—no matter how many ways I recalibrated it. By my rough estimate, I have been to the grocery store 12 times in the last five days. Sometimes because I had forgotten to buy items that were on my list, which I had in my hand on my phone. Other times because, when I got home and used them, I managed to create an entirely new disaster.
At some point I realized I was doing what I always do with the news lately: going back again and again, trying to make it make sense, trying to somehow fix it, until my brain lay down on the couch, put her hand to her forehead like Camille, and asked for soup.
So I made this slow, steady, very forgiving one, full of comforting, smothered cabbage, mysterious parsnips, and earthy wild rice—the latter of which was an ingredient in the bad-idea salad. What started out as two disconcerting salads ended up as one extremely grounding soup.
So it worked out—not just as soup, but as proof that good things can come out of awful mistakes.
Maybe that’s my point—that we have to keep going, even when nothing makes sense, until we just can’t anymore. We rest, forgive ourselves, get up, start over. We try, with whatever renewed energy we can muster, to make things that do make sense. We feed ourselves, so that we’ll be strong enough to feed others. And we trust that some good news will, eventually, come along. 🥬
*RECIPE: Smothered Cabbage, Wild Rice, and Parsnip Soup (after Marcella Hazan)
Serves 4 to 6
This recipe is my riff on Marcella Hazan’s beloved Rice and Smothered Cabbage Soup, which is like a delicious adult baby food—comforting and soft. But it’s a tough world out there, so my version adds some bite in the form of earthy, pleasantly chewy wild rice and murky, mysterious parsnips. This soup keeps you on your toes.
You can use plain old green cabbage or fancier Savoy cabbage, and if you think you don’t like parsnips, please try this dish. Although they get cooked to death, they lend a subtle sweetness that we all deserve. Eat this soup to fortify yourself—for bad weather or the news.
2 pounds green cabbage
⅔ cup finely chopped onion
½ cup extra-virgin olive (you can use less—try ⅓ cup—if you prefer a lighter soup)
1 heaping tablespoon chopped garlic
1 big parsnip, peeled and diced (1 to 1½ cups)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar (or white wine vinegar), more at the end if desired
Parmesan rind for simmering (optional)
6 to 7 cups liquid total—I used half good chicken broth and half water
1 cup wild rice, rinsed
2 tablespoons butter (optional but really nice)
⅓ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (optional), plus more for serving
If you have leftovers, rewarm them gently over low heat.
Remove and discard the outer leaves of your cabbage and finely shred the rest. (I did this by hand; it’s fun.) In a large heavy pot, warm the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook slowly, stirring occasionally, until it turns deep gold. Stir in the garlic and parsnip; cook for a few minutes until the parsnip softens slightly. Add the cabbage to the pot, along with salt, pepper, and the vinegar, and toss well to coat. (If you have a Parmesan rind, add it now.) Cover the pot, lower the heat, and cook for about 1¾ hours, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage is silky, tender, and just beginning to take on color. Add a splash of broth if it begins to stick. (It probably won’t)
In a separate pot, bring 4 cups of the broth-and-water mix to a boil. Stir in the rice, reduce to a steady simmer, and cook, partially covered, until most of the grains have split open a bit and curled, 40 to 50 minutes. It should be tender and nicely chewy, not hard. Remove from heat and let it sit, uncovered, in any remaining broth.
When the cabbage is done, add the rice and its remaining cooking liquid to the pot. Pour in the remaining broth-and-water mixture and bring to a low simmer. Let this bubble gently for 10 minutes or so to allow the flavors to fall in love. If the mixture is still too thick (even though this is meant to be a very stewy soup), add another cup of hot water or broth. Taste for salt and pepper. You might want to add another splash of vinegar or a little lemon now.
To serve, stir in the butter and the ⅓ cup cheese, if using, and ladle into serving bowls. Pass around the pepper grinder and more cheese at the table for those who might want it.
Note: If you have leftovers, rewarm them gently over low heat with a splash of broth or water, in order to keep the texture of the wild rice intact. A squeeze or two of fresh lemon juice is nice for brightening up leftovers.
🥬That’s It! We’re done here! We’ll see you soon with a recipe for authentic French Pieds et Paquets. I’m kidding—it’s going to be salad.
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“this twirling looney bin” 😆 your opening captured EXACTLY how it feels right now.
As this is me exactly right now – on my fainting couch, hand to my forehead like Camille, longing for soup – I most sincerely thank you for this very good recipe!