Last weekend my friend, Dr. Linda Bradley, whose wonderful recipe for collard greens I recently posted, mentioned casually that if she puts a little chia seed into her breakfast smoothie, it keeps her appetite in check all the way ’til lunchtime.  If she doesn’t, it doesn’t.  Simple equation.

I made this over the weekend, and then shared it with a bunch of friends on a cold, cold night. It warmed us from the inside out! Also, it’s quite rich, so a cup goes a looooong way.

According to my esteemed colleague, Dr. Linda Bradley, who had the vision and inspiration to purchase and prepare 10 pounds of collards for a vegan Christmas dish, her entire family ate every morsel!  Here’s the recipe:

1/8 cup vegetable broth OR olive oil (to sauté mushrooms and onions)

1 large yellow onion (equivalent to 1 1/2 cups, chopped)

1 cup sliced button mushrooms

6 cloves garlic, sliced thin

1 1/2 teaspoons chipotle in adobe (Comes in a small can.  Use 1/2 chipotle plus 1/2 tsp. of sauce. Don’t use the whole can, it’s too spicy.  For more heat, use one whole chili.  Save the rest in the refrigerator or freezer.)  

1/8 cup cider vinegar

8 teaspoons smoked paprika, divided

1 1/2 teaspoons soy sauce

1/2 cup vegetable stock (homemade or store-bought)

2 tablespoons blackstrap molasses

5 pounds (equivalent to 4-5 bunches) collard greens, washed clean, sliced from the stem, and rough chopped.

salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot, heat broth or oil on medium, add onions and mushrooms, and sauté 6-7 minutes until onions are wilting.  Add garlic, and cook 2 more minutes.  Stir in chipotle, 5 teaspoons of paprika, vinegar, soy sauce, vegetable stock and molasses.

Stir in the collard greens, one-third at a time, pushing them down into the pot as they begin to wilt.  Stir occasionally, cover, and cook for 45 min.  Then add the remaining paprika, salt, and pepper, and cook 5-10 more minutes.  

In
the words of Dr. Bradley, “Your grandmother would love it.”

P.S. If you’re only cooking for one or two, don’t hesitate to cut this recipe in half, or even quarters.

A couple of months ago I pulled the last 2 cabbages, sliced them very, very thinly, and mashed them, along with 2 tablespoons of salt, in a large wide bowl with the back of my fist until the cabbage was soft and its water was leaching out into the bowl.  Once it was very soft and watery, I jammed it into a glass jar as firmly as is humanly possible, and made sure that all the cabbage was immersed in the watery broth that came up all the way to the top of the jar.  I picked away any stray cabbage strands, closed the jar firmly, and rinsed away the excess water that had dripped over the sides.  Then I placed the jar in the dark cabinet.  A few weeks later there was sauerkraut; and there was satisfaction.  We ate the jar’s entire contents that evening.