Blue cabbage, red cabbage

Blaukraut, Rotkohl – even the double name already reveals how deeply this ingredient is rooted in European food culture. As a 35-year-old editor who commutes between deadlines and the weekly market, I often catch myself thinking, with a firm, violet-glimmering cabbage in hand, of all the stories that revolve around this vegetable: family celebrations, steaming braising pans, the scent of vinegar in the kitchen and the debate whether it’s called Blaukraut or Rotkohl. Both are correct, and both sound like home – depending on whether you grew up in northern Germany, the Alpine region, the Netherlands or Scandinavia.

The appeal of this cabbage lies in its remarkable versatility. Red cabbage is a classic of winter cooking, yet it can do much more than be a braised side for roasts. Its range extends from crisp salads and fermented delicacies to elegant carpaccios and Asian-inspired wok dishes. A colleague of mine swears by mixing finely shredded red cabbage with sesame, soy sauce and lime – she even convinced notorious cabbage skeptics with it. Another colleague reports how his grandmother in Bohemia always braised the cabbage with apple and lingonberries, because the sweet-and-sour play counteracts the tannins of the Sunday roast. That is exactly what makes Blaukraut so fascinating: it is down-to-earth and sophisticated at the same time.

Botanically it is a cultivated variety of white cabbage. Its distinctive color is owed to anthocyanins, plant pigments that are sensitive to the pH value. A splash of vinegar or apple juice emphasizes the reddish nuance, while alkaline additions like a little baking soda can quickly produce a bluish violet – hence the name Blaukraut. This little kitchen experiment delights not only children but also shows how sensitively flavor and appearance are linked. In my kitchen I almost always add a splash of red wine vinegar when braising, simply because the color then shines and the aroma appears clearer.</