The View From Here: From the woods to the skillet

Considering the number of restaurants in our fair city, and the seemingly endless supply of hungry customers willing to wait up to 45 minutes to partake of the menu, I thought I would share one of my favorite foods with our readers. If your roots go deep in Florida soil, you, along with me, will refer to this dish as "swamp cabbage," but if the name sounds repulsive to you, possibly hearts of sabal palm is more palatable.

First off, I want to establish that this is not a novelty food. I will admit that it is rare because it is so hard to harvest and prepare, but a number of people, primarily Florida natives, view it as a main dish to complement many meals.

At the homecoming gathering of pioneers of Bonita Springs on the first Sunday of May, there has always been a large pot of swamp cabbage alongside all of the other traditional dishes. Unfortunately I usually missed out on this treat because I was helping my father serve tea and coffee, and by the time I made the food line, the swamp cabbage pot had long been empty. When my mother learned of this, she took sympathy on me, as mothers do when it comes to feeding their boys, and she began setting aside a serving for me. Pete Whidden was always the one who brought the swamp cabbage, but he passed away last year, so it is up to the next generation to try and fit the bill.

I'm going to explain the whole process from woods to the table, which should guarantee that I won't be running into any great numbers of people the next time I go out to cut some cabbage (the Florida term for harvesting swamp cabbage). Actually, I'm a newcomer to this process, having been introduced to it a few years ago by my cousin Ron. Fortunately, Ron has bridged the gap from our fathers' generation by learning this art many years ago.

The basic tools needed are a heavy-duty chain saw, a good pocketknife and transportation (preferably a pickup truck). Our forefathers used a small ax, which probably accounts for how few people were willing to cut cabbage, compared to those who liked to eat it. Swamp cabbage is what I would call a social food, since it usually involves doing something with people you like to be around in an environment you enjoy.

My earliest memory of swamp cabbage was one occasion when a large group of locals, including my parents, gathered at the Gibson House (still standing on the corner of Abernathy Street and Pullen Avenue) to prepare a large feast. This involved children playing, adults visiting and even some music.

The men had cut cabbage that morning and we were all in the back yard helping to prepare it for cooking. We later spent a late evening eating and socializing around a long table. For Ron and me it is a very therapeutic experience to be far away from civilization surrounded by true Florida landscape, where the only sound is our conversation and chain saws. Since Ron knows the area so well because of his years as a surveyor, we spend a lot of our time riding around exploring new areas and talking about the natural beauty of the Florida woodland.

The only parts of the tree that are edible are the tender edges to the layers of the bud where the new fronds are formed. Now I realize that some of our readers will not like the fact that you kill the tree when you cut out the bud, but where we go to get the cabbage, there are thousands of trees growing, and at the rate they are being harvested, there are probably three new trees to replace each one harvested. Out of this multitude of trees you would think it would be easy for us to select the ones we want to take, but it's not that simple. We want a tree short enough to cut the top off without holding the chain saw dangerously high, and yet fat enough to render a good-sized bud.

The next step is a guessing game. You need to cut through the tree low enough to not cut the end of the bud, but high enough that you don't have to make several additional cuts to reach the bud. A rule of thumb is to count down about five rows of old frond stubs from the green fronds. After cutting off the top of the tree, you cut the green fronds off, and then you prop the piece that is left, either on the ground or wedged between the old stubs on the tree. You begin cutting the bottom off until you reach the rings of the tender bud. The more experienced you become, the fewer cuts you will have to make. When you reach the bud, you then begin tearing off the outer layers of frown boots — this is where your knife comes in. You use the knife to cut the fiber that separates the boots, which allows you to tear it off. When you expose the first boot that has a tender tip, you can toss that cabbage in the back of the truck to take home. When you get home, you still have a lot of work to do, as you must keep removing the boots, only now you are breaking off the tender tips to cook. I say "breaking off" because if you use a knife to cut it off, the tendency is to cut into the part that is tough and fibrous. Believe me, there is very little of the cabbage boot that is edible! It takes about one cabbage per person for a meal, which probably explains why the old timers made a party out of preparing this dish for a large crowd.

Preparation is pretty simple. Begin heating a large pot or deep iron skillet on medium heat and slice several thin pieces of salt pork into the bottom. After the salt pork has cooked out until it is brown, add the cabbage chips and sprinkle it with a good amount of salt and black pepper. Immediately pour it in water until the cabbage is covered and somewhat floating. Cook this at a simmer for several hours, adding water occasionally, until the broth is thick and grayish in color. That's all there is to it! You have a dish fit for a king.

Although you can serve swamp cabbage with almost any meal, if you want to stick to the old Florida tradition, you should serve it with deep-fried mullet and grits. Boy, it makes my mouth water just thinking about it. In fact, I think I'm going to contact Ron to see if he's ready to go out and cut some more cabbage!