What's Barbecue Without Sides?
(story & photos by Norman A Cukras)
You can talk all you want about barbecue, but it still needs to be accompanied by some sides. Like in, "What do you want with your ribs?" type things.
I would guess a lot of people would go with something traditional like baked beans, but down here in Florida, what's barbecue without swamp cabbage?
I feel that had the Pilgrims landed in Florida, rather than at Plymouth Rock, the Indians would probably have brought swamp cabbage to the first Thanksgiving feast.
Swamp cabbage is — well it's southern. It's unique. You may be familiar with a salad ingredient called Hearts of Palm — the truth is that this delicacy is swamp cabbage packaged in an expensive wrapper. While Hearts of Palm is a gourmet treat eaten delicately by the piece, swamp cabbage is eaten robustly by the bowl full.
Swamp cabbage is a product of Florida's state tree, the sabal palm — popularly referred to as the cabbage palm. It was a staple for the natives who not only ate its succulent center, but also made molasses from the berries and built homes from the trunks and roofed them with the fronds.
"I think the Seminole Indians never surrendered because they didn't want to give up swamp cabbage," Larry Albritton, the local barber and historian of Avon Park in central Florida told me as we bounced across the wilds of his 100-acre hideaway pasture land in his four-wheel-drive Chevy truck.
The Albritton family emigrated to the U.S. from England in 1608 and migrated south and settled in Florida in the 1800's. Larry's father, J.K., bought 1,300 acres of land bordering on the Peace River in the 1930's. After having to sell some of the homestead to cover medical expenses, he divided the remaining 900 acres among his six boys and four daughters.
"I'm sure glad my ancestors turned left when they got to the new world," Larry says with his distinctive Southern accent.
The Process
Larry and his wife Sue use their land as a retreat and as a range for their 30-some head of cattle. The uncleared areas remain dotted with sabal (cabbage) palms.
With a specially made thin bladed axe sharp enough to be used in his barbershop, Larry deftly cuts away the large fronds from the trunk of the tree. He then chops off the top of the tree an axe length down from where the new fronds form. One 5 to 7-year-old palm tree sacrifices its existence for each harvested log. However, the trees are kind of like dandelions; they just keep replenishing themselves.
The top section of the tree, or log, with its trunk smooth of fronds, will weigh around 30 pounds. In cross-section, the log has the appearance of a cable wrapped in layers of tough, leathery 'rings.' As each ring is removed, the subsequent layer becomes more tender and sweeter to the taste. Using the axe as a knife, my frontiersman friend next slits the trunk lengthwise, peeling layer after layer of growth away until the white pulpy center is exposed. It's here, deep within the center of the log, where about two pounds of the edible portion of the tree, about 12 inches long and tapering from 2 to 4 inches in diameter, is found. This core, which is swamp cabbage, is then cut into bit-size chunks prior to cooking.
There is a knack to telling the good eating stuff from the bitter stuff.
"I can tell by the sound my knife makes," the slim, work-hardened barber with the neatly trimmed mustache says as he cuts the morning's harvest into the water pot. You can also tell by its resistance to the knife. The sweet part cuts like the meat of a cantaloupe, the bitter part like the rind.
When a tree is being cut, the cattle scurry over for their own culinary treat as soon as the first sound of the axe echoes off the surrounding trees. "The cows get the bitter, people get the sweet," Larry says philosophically. However, the chomping cows don't seem to mind one bit.
Add Some Salt And A Little Pepper
Larry often prepares his swamp cabbage using an old family recipe. After rinsing the cut cabbage, he puts it in a pot with just enough water to cover the pieces, adds some salt and a little pepper, and puts the pot on the fire. While the water is heating, he fries a little fatback in an iron skillet until it begins to brown, then the fatback and pan grease is poured into the cabbage pot. As the water comes to a boil, it is sampled for seasoning. The cabbage is cooked at a hard boil for 10 minutes when it is ready to be served.
"Don't cook it too long or it will turn to mush," Sue cautioned as she brushed her auburn hair back in place. "And serve it in a bowl. That way you get to enjoy the juice."
Sometimes the Albrittons will substitute bacon or ham for the fatback. The important thing to remember, Sue advises, is to go sparingly on the meat. "You don't want grease floating on the surface." As a guess, Larry uses around two or three ounces of fatback for each tree prepared.
For variety, Sue will also substitute Everglades Seasoning for the salt and add a pinch of sugar.
I went to a function recently where the cook put a bunch of raw oysters into the cooking pot, which added a new dimension to the flavor of the dish.
Everyone has his or her own idea of the flavor of swamp cabbage. Some say it's reminiscent of artichoke hearts; author Marjorie Rawlings (The Yearling) wrote of it having "& the crisp sweetness of chestnuts." However, most people will agree that it sort of takes on the flavor of the ingredients with which it's cooked.
Why Barbecue?
Because this is a barbecue magazine, I speak of swamp cabbage primarily as a side dish to enhance the sport of barbecue. However, Larry and his brother Roy, who owns an orange grove next to Larry's property, will argue convincingly that swamp cabbage is best served with fresh caught fish, homemade coleslaw, and hush puppies.
Sadly, the southern staple is a regional food that's best eaten when cooked fresh, but don't give up. If you can possibly make it down to LaBelle, Fla., during the last full weekend in February, you can get a better understanding of the interest in the palatable palm. Since 1965, the folks of LaBelle have hosted their Annual Swamp Cabbage Festival along the banks of the Caloosahatchee River that runs from Lake Okeechobee to the Gulf of Mexico.
And, if you do make it down here, be sure you add some gator tail as a side for the swamp cabbage.