Zeus was flummoxed: One prophecy predicted this, one predicted that. The god broke out in a cold sweat, which rolled down his body, dropped to the ground and sprung up as cabbage. Explaining the vegetable’s divine stink.
At first cabbage was a spindly plant — according to the botanist’s version of the tale. Over time it amassed its round head and proliferated into the big, bold brassica family — all mustard sharp and broccoli pungent. These days the paparazzi stalk kale, but the curly cutie comes from a long line of celebrity greens.
The nutritionist has it that cabbage is packed with superpowers. The farmer depends on the crop’s cold-weather chops. The cook likes its versatility; those crunchy layers can go coleslaw mild, kimchee bold and sausage-studded spicy — especially now, in the runup to the big day cabbage shares with potatoes and Saint Patrick.
The student of cabbage knows that all of the above are true. Sometimes conflicting perspectives can be equally correct. Just ask the sweaty Zeus.
