I used to eat cabbage rolls every Christmas Eve. It was my great-grandmother’s recipe from her home in the Ukraine, one that she’d make sure that she taught her daughters when they could first walk. She would make cabbage rolls every Christmas, and eventually, when she got too old to stand in the kitchen all day, my grandma took over. My grandma would spend HOURS boiling and stuffing and rolling the cabbage. The last time we ate full, traditional cabbage rolls was Christmas Eve of 2019. That’s when we got the call that my great-grandmother had sadly passed away. I never knew her very well, but the one remnant I have of her (this recipe) will live forever in my heart.
But let’s rewind a little. Allow me to tell you about the last time I ate a real cabbage roll. This was the last Christmas before the pandemic hit, in 2019. By then, I had heard rumours that something was going on, but never thought much of it. As always, the house was very, very busy. There were always people coming and going, bringing food and good wishes. Each Christmas was always different and more tumultuous than the last. But two things were always true: we always woke my parents up at 6 o’clock on Christmas, and we always ate cabbage rolls on Christmas Eve.
As a child, I was not the biggest fan of cabbage rolls. Soggy, wet leaves full of tomatoes and rice wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing to nine year old me. Each year, I would pray that my Grandma would give up and decide to make spaghetti. And each year, I got a couple of cabbage rolls on my plate.
As I grow older and more introspective, I can better appreciate the deliciousness of cabbage rolls. When I finally made the recipe on my own, I was utterly humbled by the amount of work and patience required. I still cannot understand how women in Stalin-occupied Ukraine did this for their families once a week. I am forever and eternally grateful for the labour of love I was able to indulge in every Christmas Eve. I hope that you too can appreciate it.
But let’s rewind a little. Allow me to tell you about the last time I ate a real cabbage roll. This was the last Christmas before the pandemic hit, in 2019. By then, I had heard rumours that something was going on, but never thought much of it. As always, the house was very, very busy. There were always people coming and going, bringing food and good wishes. Each Christmas was always different and more tumultuous than the last. But two things were always true: we always woke my parents up at 6 o’clock on Christmas, and we always ate cabbage rolls on Christmas Eve.
As a child, I was not the biggest fan of cabbage rolls. Soggy, wet leaves full of tomatoes and rice wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing to nine year old me. Each year, I would pray that my Grandma would give up and decide to make spaghetti. And each year, I got a couple of cabbage rolls on my plate.
As I grow older and more introspective, I can better appreciate the deliciousness of cabbage rolls. When I finally made the recipe on my own, I was utterly humbled by the amount of work and patience required. I still cannot understand how women in Stalin-occupied Ukraine did this for their families once a week. I am forever and eternally grateful for the labour of love I was able to indulge in every Christmas Eve. I hope that you too can appreciate it.
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