May 15, 2013
Heirloom Cabbage Varieties and Other Brassicas
Black Tuscan Palm Tree Kale Brassica oleracea var. acephala
I first stumbled upon this variety of cavolo di Palma in Ottavio Targioni-Tozzetti’s Dizzionario Botanico Italiano (1825, 45–46), curiously wondering to myself whether it could be more impressive than Jersey Cow Cabbage, for surely it does not grow as tall. Later, when I saw the kale in the gardens of the Villa Barbero at Maser high in the hills of the Veneto, I realized immediately that I could not be without it. The Black Tuscan Palm Tree Kale is truly one of the most beautiful kales to grace any kitchen garden. In fact, many gardeners plant it simply for its ornamental merits. There is probably no more spectacular combination than to see this gray-black kale interplanted with vivid green Silesia lettuce, although the Venetian lettuce called cappuccio ubriacona frastagliata (“drunken woman frizzy-headed”) will do its own to create a carnival effect—and ever so Italian.
The Black Tuscan Palm Tree Kale dates from the eighteenth century and figures in a number of old Tuscan recipes. Prepared like chard, it has an affinity for olive oil and shallots, and goes very well with grilled Chioggia sea pumpkin. It is best when chopped, because the old leaves can be stringy; in fact concentrate on the very young leaves at the top, for they are the most tender. The same may be said for its German counterpart, Lerchenzungen Grünkohl (larks-tongue kale), a frizzy dark green kale with long, narrow leaves similar in shape to the Tuscan variety. It is also medium in height, and therefore the two can be planted together for a stunning visual effect. The German variety is completely winter hardy in Pennsylvania; in fact frost improves the flavor. The Tuscan kale, unfortunately, is extremely tender and will not overwinter in areas where the ground freezes. Even heavy frosts seem to damage it. Plants must be dug up and stored in a cool shed over the winter; I simply move the ones designated for seed saving into my greenhouse.
Since the Tuscan kale grows 2 to 3 feet tall, even higher where the ground is particularly rich, it should be spaced about 3 feet apart in order to develop a good “palm tree” shape. It can also be planted as a single specimen. The slate gray, crinkled leaves are long and narrow, often 24 inches long, and gently drooping; thus the plants require elbow room. The German sort is somewhat shorter and therefore looks better when planted in front of the Tuscan kale. Cabbage worms do not seem to bother either variety, but caterpillars of other butterfly species do. More of a problem are finches and sparrows, which sit on the plants and peck out holes in the leaves. They can leave a handsome bed of kales looking sad and shredded in a matter of days. Bird netting is the only method I have found to deal with this.
Borecole or Dwarf German Kale Brassica oleracea var. acephala
A vegetable with a long history in the United States, Dwarf German Kale first arrived here with Pennsylvania Dutch settlers in the early eighteenth century. However, one of the first historical references thus far uncovered appeared in the correspondence between London plant collector Peter Collinson and John Bartram, the Philadelphia botanist and nurseryman. In March 1735 Collinson sent Bartram seeds for “Winter Green Cole” and “Brown Cole,” the latter a strain also known as Deep Purple Kale. Collinson’s seed had come to him directly from Germany, where the varieties were known as Grünkohl and Braunkohl respectively. The extremely winter-hardy green variety was generally planted in September in order to overwinter and provide greens or sprouts in early spring. A century and a half later American horticulturist Charles Parnell wrote an article on “Sprouts, or Dwarf German Greens” for the September 1885 issue of Vick’s Illustrated Monthly Magazine. In it he described the extensive truck farm industry in the vicinity of New York City devoted entirely to this vegetable.
Whether or not the plant we know today is genetically identical to its eighteenth-century ancestor may be difficult to prove, but visually it is identical to the kales depicted in paintings and woodcuts of that period. The plant is short, about 2 feet tall, with bluish green, frilly leaves. As a garden vegetable, it is one of the most reliable and easy to grow of all the brassicas in this book. For culinary purposes the greens may be treated like spinach, but unless chopped or shredded, they are really too coarse to be served raw in salads. They are perfectly suited to the type of Pennsylvania Dutch casserole salads called Schales, which are heated slightly to tenderize the ingredients. Also raised by the Pennsylvania Dutch was a related kale called Mosbacher Crünkohl, resembling a cross between curly green kale and couve tronchuda or Portugal cabbage. It is 2 to 2 1/2 feet tall with large, broad, yellow-green leaves. It tastes like broccoli.
For an early harvest, seeds may be planted 4 to 6 weeks before the last frost, about the same time for planting onion sets and potatoes. Otherwise, seeds may be started indoors in flats, the seedlings hardened off and planted in the garden once the ground has dried out after spring thaw. Fall crops are planted 6 to 8 weeks before the first frost, or even later if plants are intended to overwinter for spring greens and seeds. This kale is so hardy that it does not require winter protection. I have continued to harvest it from right under the snow.
For seed-saving purposes it is important to remember that the flowers are not self-fertile; thus more than one plant is needed to produce seed. I would advise planting 10 plants close together for seed purposes. This will ensure a good level of pollination as well as genetic diversity in the seed. The kale can also be propagated by root cuttings.
The following recipe, translated from Anna May’s Die Kleine New Yorker Köchin (1859, 22), outlines how the kale was prepared in a skillet.
Braunen Kohl zu Kocnen (To Cook Kale)
Remove all the leaves so that only the heart with its tiny leaves remain for cooking. Then boil the greens until slightly tender, drain in a colander, and press out the excess liquid. Put a nice piece of butter and a little lard in a skillet, add the kale, and sauté over a high heat, Add salt and chopped onion, and when thoroughly cooked, add a few spoonfuls of bouillon and some sugar. Cover and let this sweat for a few minutes. Also, one can add a few small potatoes cooked in their skins, quartered and browned in a skillet with butter and sugar.
Brussels Sprouts (Red) Brassica oleracea var. gemmifera
Brussels sprouts developed as a mutation of Flanders Kale (chou caulet de Flandre) about 1785; thus this group of cabbages represents the most recent accession to the species. For a long time it was considered the ultimate luxury cabbage for one simple reason: it is extremely difficult to grow. The French prefer large sprouts, the Belgians small ones. The smaller sorts are easier to grow, but I would not recommend Brussels sprouts at all were it not for the fact that some gardeners have extremely good luck with them. Most important, they do not take up much room. This is a vegetable that is mostly vertical, and therefore it can be grown among rows of lettuces, carrots, and other low vegetables. Furthermore, a few good plants will yield an abundant crop, as many as 100 to a plant. Therefore, it is important think of Brussels sprouts in terms of interplanting; they are slow growing and, if planted in a solid patch, will only tie up that portion of the garden for the entire season.
Another problem is that there are really no pre-1900 heirloom Brussels sprout varieties readily available to seed savers. The red variety that I grow was created by crossing an old green variety with Flanders Kale, which happens to be a purple-red. The sprouts are perfectly beautiful miniatures of red cabbages. I made the decision that if I was going to trouble myself with the miseries of coddling Brussels sprouts to perfection, then I wanted something I could not find in a supermarket. That has been my guiding principle, even though I have never had more failures in the garden than with Brussels sprouts.
Raising Brussels sprouts is a study in humility, for they demand much and give little in return unless they are perfect. My failures with Brussels sprouts have only prompted me to keep at it until I got it right. Half the success in gardening is to remain open-minded and turn mistakes into lessons. Leave Brussels sprouts off the list unless you have a serious interest in mastering them. Otherwise, stick to kale.
Brussels sprouts need a very long, mild growing season, and therefore they do much better in parts of the South than in other sections of the country. If seed is sown in northern areas in May for planting in June, there is a chance of a decent harvest by November. In the South, plants can be set out in July, with harvests in December. The sprouts come to crop very quickly and do not linger in their sprout state for very long. If neglected, they will burst, bud out into small shoots, or rot.
To encourage the formation of sprouts, it is necessary to pull off some of the leaves below each sprout so that the energy of the plant is directed into the buds. Cropping the top or head will help with some varieties, but this is itself a culinary delicacy and should not be destroyed, particularly if the plants are being saved for seed. Harvest the largest buds first so that the smaller ones will benefit. Cut the sprouts from the stem neatly, leaving as much of the spur as possible. This precaution will result in a second crop of sprouts. Always keep the plants well watered, but do not fertilize them heavily. If the ground is too rich, the plants will develop large leaves at the expense of the buds. The most common insect pest to attack the sprouts are gray aphids. They are ugly, and they will disfigure the plants quickly. Insecticidal soap will kill them on contact; wood ashes dusted over the plants before a light rain will also work.
Cannonball Cabbage Brassica oleracea var. capitata
Because of its diminutive size, this is my favorite heirloom cabbage for small gardens. One of my friends described it as resembling a mammoth Brussels sprout, and I think that is a pretty fair assessment of its appearance. It was introduced in 1868 by James J. H. Gregory of Marblehead, Massachusetts, and was most likely a strain of Copenhagen. Gregory himself described it as having a head “about as round and hard as a cannonball.” The entire cabbage, including outer leaves, grows no larger than 12 inches across, but it is extremely dense and perfect for shredding into coleslaw or sauerkraut. It is usually described as maturing with Winnigstädt, which means that it should be treated as a fall cabbage.
I would suggest planting the seedlings in August; if they are planted in the spring, disaster will ensue. The small heads are so tight that they cannot take a great deal of hot weather and high humidity. They will crack and, if the day is particularly hot, actually burst open. I protected the cabbages with sun screens, and even that did not help. However, Cannonball would probably do very well in areas where the summers are cool. It is such a fine little cabbage, very neatly formed, and deliciously tender when cooked, that it is well worth a trial. Just be certain to keep it well watered.
An assortment of cabbages: Red Drumhead, the small, round-headed Cannonball, and the pointed Winnigstädt cabbage.
Couve Tronchuda or Portugal Cabbage Brassica oleracea var. tronchuda
Some cabbages are difficult to grow, while kales come up like weeds. Portugal cabbage is just plain fun. It is always rewarding because it is showy, there are many varieties to choose from, and the taste is similar to delicate broccoli. I have grown it every year since I have had a garden. I consider it the centerpiece and plan everything else around it. My enthusiasm for it began as a type of ardent curiosity, an archaeological look at a “relic” vegetable. For this family of cabbages is closely related to the Jersey Cow Cabbage and chou de la Sarthe. Therefore, it is a type closely akin to the sorts raised in Western Europe during classical antiquity. It would not look strange on the dining tables of Roman Spain. I thought it would be like cow cabbage when I first planted it, but I was wrong. It has a charm all its own. I was surprised to learn in the preface to Robert Buist’s Family Kitchen Gardener (1847, v) that this cabbage had been introduced here in the 1820s as a fodder crop, only to be reintroduced again in the late 1840s under its Portuguese name as a new delicacy for daring gourmands. It was originally introduced into England in 1821 from the neighborhood of Braganza in Portugal, only to fail in the English winter, or so the Gardener’s Magazine (1827, 434–35) claimed. Actually the date of introduction is incorrect, and there must have been other factors at work in that failure because as I write this, my Braganza is standing in nearly a foot of snow, untouched by a recent brush with 12°F weather. In any case, much of the seed brought into England at that time was sent via the wine merchants, the same Madeira trade that channeled so many Portuguese and Spanish vegetables into Boston and Philadelphia in the nineteenth century. It was through a similar network that Stephen Switzer first acquired seed in 1728 under the name Coves Murcianus, noting that many English gentlemen had eaten it in Portugal. Unfortunately, he did not report in his Compendious Method (1731, 19) how his experiments with the cabbage fared.
The 1820s reintroduction consisted of two varieties, a tall one about 2 feet in height called Braganza and a “dwarf” sort called Murciana, growing about 18 inches in height. This latter variety was the same trialed by Switzer nearly a century earlier. All of the varieties of couve tronchuda are characterized by large, spreading, ribbed leaves. The cabbages form no heads; rather it is the rib part of the leaf and the heart or top of the stem that are eaten. The Portuguese term tronchuda means “having a great stalk,” which indeed it does, although the bottom part is tough and woody. The different varieties are distinguished from one another by their leaf color, shape, habit of growth, and texture when cooked. The Manteiga is buttery, while the Pencuda Espanhola forms a loose head.
Both the Braganza and Murciana varieties were introduced into the United States in 1847 by-Boston seedsman Joseph Breck. The Horticulturalist (April 1848, 464) published an article on this “new” vegetable, including suggestions on how it should be cooked. If couve tronchuda remained out of the mainstream kitchen garden in this country, at least it had adherents in the Portuguese communities of New England. In his Cape Cod cookbook Vittles for the Captain (1941, 14), N. M. Halper observed that the Portuguese who settled in the sea towns along the Massachusetts coast were avid cultivators of couve tronchuda and that it was found “in every Provincetown garden.” Halper published a recipe for kale soup using this vegetable, plus several other Portuguese-style dishes. I find that the hearts and young tender leaves are excellent when steamed (10 to 12 minutes). The large, old outer leaves are tough but may be used for preparing an excellent soup stock.
Seed should be started in late May for a fall crop or in August for an overwintering crop. The spring greens are the best. The plant thrives in cool, showery weather and can be grown as a winter cabbage in mild parts of the country. A temporary cold snap does not injure it as much as repeated freezing and thawing. If grown in the open, it should be protected from dry winter winds. Since many of the varieties are tender, it is probably better to dig them up for winter storage rather than risk loss. Only by trial and error is it possible to determine which will do best in a particular microclimate.
Early Jersey Wakefield Cabbage Brassica oleracea var. capitata
Early Wakefield, an English cabbage from Yorkshire, was preceded by Large Wakefield, a cauliflower introduced in this country in 1843. American gardeners were naturally confused by these two very similar names. Worse, when Early Wakefield was planted, it degenerated into about twelve subvarieties, few of which had qualities suited to our needs and climate. The much-heralded English import became a curse.
However, a German truck gardener in northern New Jersey perfected an early, uniform strain from Wakefield plants, and Peter Henderson eventually obtained rights to it. This became the Early Jersey Wakefield that he made famous in later editions of his Gardening for Profit (1865). Seed was released commercially in 1868. This is a cabbage born of seedsmen’s hyperbole, only to prove itself over time to be much better than its creators could have imagined. Today it is one of the classic American heirloom varieties. Originally raised almost exclusively in Bergen and Hudson counties, New Jersey, the cabbage and its center of cultivation eventually shifted to Long Island.
Although it was developed as a field cabbage for commercial culture, Early Jersey Wakefield is particularly well suited for small gardens due to its size. And because it is hardy, it may be raised successfully in USDA zones 5 and 6, but it is not recommended for the South unless planted as in the fall as a winter cabbage. Better for southern gardeners to plant Charleston Wakefield, a variety developed by Henderson in 1892 specifically for the South. In Pennsylvania, large healthy plants often overwinter without protection; Early Jersey Wakefield thrives best, however, when cultivated over the winter in cold frames.
The head of the cabbage is heart-or cone-shaped, forming well-rounded point surrounded by copious pale green leaves. The leaves are sometimes tinged with pink on their “sunny” side. The harvested heads generally weigh 2 to 3 pounds. The young greens make excellent collard; in fact, I prefer cooking the cabbage before it forms complete heads. Charleston Wakefield grows somewhat larger, with more widely spreading leaves, usually a dark green in color. Harvested heads may weigh 4 to 6 pounds.
Brassica oleracea var. acephala
When we think of collards in this country, we immediately associate them with the South. Many varieties of collards were developed there, and names like Georgia and North Carolina Blue Stem were once quite popular at the turn of this century. Yet the collard was not originally unique to one region of the country, nor was it a specialized type of cabbage. The term is a dialect corruption of colewort, which in the seventeenth century was applied to small kales or to cabbages in their leafy state before they began forming heads. Coleworts were usually the thinnings pulled from the garden to make room for the stronger plants. In the 1702 cookbook of Gulielma Penn (1966, 16), there is a recipe for a beef “pudding” that is made by stuffing a colewort leaf with chopped beef, then boiling it.
By the latter part of the eighteenth century, distinct colewort varieties evolved in this country through accidental crossing between kales and cabbages. Most of these varieties never earned commercial names because they were highly localized in distribution and generally viewed as a poverty food. One of the oldest to survive, however, is the Green Glaze collard, a colewort that evolved out of the Green Glaze cabbage introduced in 1820 by David Landreth of Philadelphia. This collard is distinguished by its color, which is bright lemony green, and the waxy surface of its leaf. This waxy surface forms a natural protection against cabbage worms because they cannot chew through it. As a result, this is also one of the few cabbages that is generally insect free, although the harlequin cabbage bug (a red-and-black beetle) will attack it in the fall.
The mature plants grow about 1 1/2 feet tall and form loose, leafy heads much like lettuce. The plants are tender in regions where winters are severe and therefore must be overwintered for seed-saving purposes. In the North this means digging up the plants and storing them in a root cellar, or potting them up and maintaining them in a cold frame or cool greenhouse. They may be replanted in March in order to have them bloom in April or early May. The spring plants will also produce a good crop of small sprouts.
Collards are best gathered when young or in the fall after nipped by frost. The following recipe is taken from Mrs. E. R. Tennent’s House-Keeping in the Sunny South (1885, 89).
Put one and a half pounds of meat, or half a good-sized jowl in three quarts of water. When it begins to boil skim carefully: in two Hours add the greens, a pinch of soda, and a tablespoonful of salt. When done skin the jowl, remove to a dish, pile the greens around it, and garnish with slices of hard boiled eggs.
Brassica oleracea var. bullata
The American Horticultural Annual (1869, 134) remarked that “no family garden is complete without its patch of Savoys for the table.” And yet savoy cabbages were never grown in the United States as extensively as in Europe, perhaps because their tenderness precludes their culture in many parts of the country. Nevertheless, I stand by my opinion that they are the best sort of heading cabbage, and with few close competitors. The Pennsylvania Dutch always considered the savoy cabbage the very finest sort for sauerkraut, and to serve savoy in any form was always a compliment to guests.
On the other hand, the field of heirloom savoys is not crowded even though many of the names are today quite unfamiliar. Amelia Simmons (1796, 14)—bless her good taste—listed two varieties that were more or less perennial favorites with those Americans who grew them. One was the green savoy, “with the richest crinkles… it will last thro’ the winter.” The other was yellow savoy, “next in rank, but will not last long; all Cabbages will mix, and participate of other species, like Indian Corn.” The old word was cavort, and indeed, Amelia Simmons was one of the first writers in this country to understand the sex life of cabbages. “This is new, but a fact,” she wrote, and I salute her for this frank observation.
The Peale family of Philadelphia included savoy cabbages in many of their paintings, I am convinced out of respect for their status among cooks, for they chose to depict prize-taking specimens. Bernard M’Mahon’s 1815 seed catalog listed only two savoys, the yellow and green varieties advocated by Amelia Simmons. These two varieties remained more or less the American standards until the Civil War.
By the 1890s, American seedsmen were listing as many as seven varieties developed here, one of the finest being Marvin’s Savoy, introduced in 1891. Unfortunately, most of the old varieties are now difficult to locate; a large portion of them are extinct. Personally, I prefer a late Victorian variety from England called January King, which is considered a semi-savoy, the secret I think to its hardiness.
The heads of January King are small and dense, weighing more than a pound. They keep well under refrigeration, as long as two months. The small size of the plants makes this variety excellently suited for the kitchen garden. The leaf coloration is terrific and seems to change daily. The overall color is blue-green, but there are dapples of true turquoise, blushes of purple on the outer leaves, and streaks of violet on some of the leaf stems. Sometimes I think it is too beautiful to harvest, it should just sit there and preen in the sun.
I plant seed in December in my greenhouse. The cabbage thrives in cool greenhouses and makes a good collard. In March I move the best plants to the garden, thus providing myself with a harvest in June. For fall harvests, seed is planted in May. In England the plants are overwintered in the open for harvests in February. Frost (not a hard freeze) mellows the flavor. For seed-saving purposes, seed must be planted in May so that the plants may be vernalized in November, then taken into storage for the winter. In spite of his name, January King is not king of January weather in this country. He needs protection.
Kohlrabi (Purple and White Vienna) Brassica oleracea var. gongylodes
There are only two kohlrabies that I would recommend for the small garden, the Purple Vienna and the White Vienna. Both of these were considered “breakthrough” varieties, since they were so superior to the sorts that had been grown up to the time of their introduction. They were illustrated in color in the Album Vilmorin, the purple variety in 1863 and the white one in 1869, which only added to their acclaim. In 1773 Benjamin Franklin sent John Bartram seeds for a coarse variety of “Cabbage Turnip,” recommending it as a fodder crop for cattle. There are several old large-rooted varieties that would serve this purpose, but the two Vienna sorts, dating from the 1840s, are small and delicate. When young, they can even be eaten raw.
There is no difference between the two except in color. The purple one is shown here, at its peak of perfection for harvesting. The culture is the same as that for cabbage, except that kohlrabies can be planted much closer together, about 8 inches apart. I interplant them with leeks, so that as the kohlrabies finish in June, the leeks grow and fill the space. Kohlrabies are best planted early, as soon as the threat of frost has passed. They mature quickly and will turn woody in hot weather. They can be planted again in mid-August for a fall harvest, but should be gathered before a hard freeze. Freezing will split them.
Kohlrabies are normally peeled before they are cooked. They can be used like turnips, except that the flavor is much more delicate. But why waste the peelings? The Pennsylvania Dutch spread them on paper and dry them. Once dry, they can be stored in airtight jars and used during the winter to make soup. Certainly! Pour boiling water over the dried peelings and let them reconstitute. Simmer until the stock is completely flavored by the kohlrabi peels (about 25 minutes), then strain and discard the peels. This makes an excellent base stock for vegetarian soups.