These days, there are “cool” vegetables—kale, Brussels sprouts, Chioggia beets, etc—and then there is green cabbage. Green cabbage has none of the cuteness of Brussels, or the prettiness of beets, or even the delicate frilliness of its cousin Napa. But I’m here to say that it is an unsung hero, maybe even the one that got away. Lowly old green cabbage is worth our ever-more-vegetable–focused love. Always available, hardly perishable, cheap as chips, and super good for you, it’s a true workhorse. Tons of different cuisines use it, and love it: Korean, Polish, American Southern, Irish... the list goes on. It can be stuffed, roasted, braised, pickled/fermented, added to soups, and eaten raw, among other preparations. In addition to taking on flavors well, it has its own gentle sweet taste. It’s great.

So I wanted to share a favorite preparation of my old pal, great with rice and a piece of roasted fish: A quick stir-fry, with a sauce reminiscent of Kung Pao chicken. Just like Kung Pao Chicken might be just an American interpretation of a dish eaten in China (enlighten me!), my Kung Pao Cabbage claims no authenticity or true Chinese-ness. (Authenticity is a tricky word in cooking these days.) But it's an easy side that scratches an itch for certain flavors that I often crave. And in January, when veggies are necessary, but a bit bland, this brightens up my plate—in fact, it’s often the thing I finish first.

Kung Pao Chicken, at least from my local take out place, is a study in texture: crunchy water chestnuts and celery, and soft chicken. It has a simple garlicky, gingery, tangy soy-based sauce with a lot of heat (I believe Szechuan peppercorns are sometimes added, but for simplicity I leave them out here). Cabbage works in the sauce because, well, it works with any sauce—it’s a joiner. But the real fun is that stir-fried cabbage inherently mimics some of that great textural contrast of the original dish because you have the soft slippery pieces of leaf in addition to the harder, juicier crunchiness of the ribs. Peanuts are traditional—I’d say imperative—but mine had gone bad,* so I used almonds instead, and liked it just as well.

Kung Pao Cabbage

In the largest pan you own, or a wok, heat a couple of tablespoons of oil (ideally something more neutral than olive oil, like vegetable) over medium-high heat. Add about a tablespoon each of grated fresh ginger and grated garlic (a few cloves). When aromatic and sizzling, add a sliced jalapeño if you like and cook for another minute. Add a cored, chopped green cabbage, then a tiny splash of water and a sprinkle of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until browned and softened in spots, about 5 to 7 minutes—you may need to cover it briefly to get it going. Meanwhile, in a mug or measuring cup, mix together a scant 1/4 cup soy sauce, a tablespoon or two of rice wine vinegar, a splash of Mirin or white wine if you have it, a couple of teaspoons of sugar, and sambal oelek to taste (or red pepper flakes). Taste the sauce and adjust—it should be quite spicy and salty with a bit of tang from the vinegar. Add the sauce to the browned cabbage and stir through, until hot.** Top with 1/4 cup or more of roasted chopped peanuts (or toasted slivered almonds).

* Lesson learned. I keep all my other, fancier nuts—pine nuts, almonds, pecans, etc.—in the freezer to keep them fresh, but peanuts are in a jar on a shelf that gets a lot of sun. Sounds to me like some repressed price discrimination, and this culinary nasty woman won't abide it. Peanuts aren't deserving of my precious freezer space (an ever-complicated Tetris game of buried ice cube trays, misguided soup, and prosciutto ends)? Just so I could easily nibble on them now and then? No more. Rancid nuts likely won’t kill you, but I’m keeping my peanuts in the freezer from now on.

** Before you add to the cabbage, you can add a couple of teaspoons of cornstarch if you have it to the sauce and stir to dissolve it completely—it will make the sauce thicker and glossier. Just be sure to bring the sauce to a boil after you mix it through with the cabbage, so it properly activates and thickens up.