Colcannon — The Comfort of Sending Something That Stays

Kai started preschool this week. Cherokee Nation Head Start, north side of Tulsa — they do language instruction, traditional culture, the usual early childhood things, wrapped in a Cherokee framework. Hannah found it and enrolled him in the spring and I am glad she did, because I would have put him in the county program and not thought hard enough about it. That is the division of labor in our house: Hannah thinks hard about which things matter and tells me, and I agree and implement.

Monday morning was chaos. Kai had decided overnight that preschool was a mistake. Not because he was scared — Kai is not particularly fearful of new places — but because he had thought it over and concluded that staying home with Luna was preferable. He expressed this at volume while I tried to get him dressed. Hannah handled it with a patience I do not possess by telling him preschool had a sandbox and snack time, and this combination apparently resolved the matter.

I packed his lunch. Hannah usually does lunches, but she was dealing with the Luna situation — morning feeding, the whole routine — and I said I would handle it. I packed bean bread I had made Sunday, wrapped in foil, apple slices, a little container of honey for dipping, and a juice box. Bean bread is a Cherokee staple — dried beans cooked and mashed, mixed into cornmeal dough, wrapped and boiled. Dense, slightly savory, travels well. Kai loves it the way he loves anything with corn: enthusiastically and without analysis.

I thought about what it meant to send him to preschool with bean bread instead of a sandwich. Not in a heavy way. Just — I thought about it. My preschool lunch, whenever I tried to remember, was probably peanut butter and a Capri Sun. That was the nineties, North Tulsa, what we had. Kai is getting something different. Not better necessarily — different, intentionally different. More of what he is before the world starts sanding it down.

I picked him up at three and he ran out already talking about a kid named Marcus who could do a somersault and a teacher named Miss Janet who let him hold the class rabbit. He did not mention the bean bread. I did not ask. He will eat it again Wednesday and it will be ordinary to him by month's end, which is exactly what I want. Ordinary means it stayed.

Bean bread travels with Kai on Wednesdays now, and I keep thinking about the other foods I want to feel just as ordinary to him by the time he’s old enough to explain them to someone else. Colcannon landed on my list for the same reason it’s lasted for generations in another tradition entirely—it’s mashed and dense and slightly savory, the kind of thing that asks nothing of you except that you eat it and come back. I made a pot of it the Sunday after Kai’s first week and watched him eat two helpings without commentary, which is the highest praise he gives.

Colcannon

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 lbs russet or Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
• 4 cups green cabbage or kale, thinly sliced
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
• 3/4 cup whole milk or heavy cream, warmed
• 4 scallions (green onions), thinly sliced
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for the potato water
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• Extra butter for serving (optional)

Instructions

1. Boil the potatoes. Place potato chunks in a large pot and cover with cold salted water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook 18—22 minutes, until a fork slides through without resistance. Drain thoroughly and return to the pot over low heat for 1 minute to steam off excess moisture.
2. Cook the cabbage. While potatoes cook, melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a wide skillet over medium heat. Add the cabbage and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 8—10 minutes until tender and just beginning to take on a little color. Add the scallions in the last 2 minutes.
3. Mash the potatoes. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter and the warmed milk to the drained potatoes. Mash until smooth and creamy—a hand masher gives you a slightly rustic texture, which is traditional. Do not over-work them.
4. Combine. Fold the cabbage and scallion mixture into the mashed potatoes. Season with 1 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon black pepper. Taste and adjust.
5. Serve. Spoon into bowls or onto plates. Make a small well in the center of each portion and add a pat of butter if desired—it will pool there as it melts, which is the traditional way to serve it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 390mg