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Fried Cabbage and Potatoes — The Side Dish That Holds the Table Together

April 2021. Spring in Memphis, and I am 62, watching the azaleas and dogwoods bloom along my neighborhood walk, the annual resurrection that makes the winter worth surviving. The smoker wakes up in spring the way the whole city wakes up — slowly, with a stretch, then fully, with purpose.

Mama in Whitehaven, navigating her days between clarity and fog, still sharp enough to critique my cooking and still loving enough to eat it anyway.

Ribs this week — spare ribs, dry-rubbed, five hours at 225, no foil, no rush. The Memphis way. The bark cracked when I bit into it, and the flavor was layered: smoke first, then spice, then the sweetness of the pork, each layer arriving on its own schedule, patient as a sermon. Rosetta ate two ribs and said nothing negative, which is a standing ovation from the toughest critic in my life.

Sunday at Mt. Zion, the choir sang and I sat in my pew and let the music hold me. The bass notes I used to add are quieter now — my voice is aging, the way everything ages — but the listening is its own participation, and the church holds me the way the church has held this community for a hundred years: faithfully, unconditionally, with room for everyone who shows up. I show up. That is enough.

The ribs were the sermon, but every sermon needs a congregation — and at my table, that congregation is a cast-iron skillet of fried cabbage and potatoes, humble and faithful, the same dish Mama used to make when the budget was tight and the love was not. When Rosetta gave those two ribs her silence-as-approval, I knew the whole meal had done its job, and this side dish was a quiet part of that; it asks for nothing, it holds the plate together, and it has been doing so long enough to feel like church itself.

Fried Cabbage and Potatoes

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 4 strips thick-cut bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces
  • 1 small head green cabbage (about 2 lbs), cored and roughly chopped
  • 3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch cubes
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
  • Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
  • 1 tbsp vegetable oil (only if needed to supplement drippings)

Instructions

  1. Render the bacon. In a large cast-iron skillet or heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat, cook the bacon pieces until crispy, about 6–8 minutes. Transfer bacon to a paper towel–lined plate, leaving the drippings in the pan. Add vegetable oil if drippings measure less than 2 tablespoons.
  2. Start the potatoes. Raise heat to medium-high. Add the cubed potatoes to the skillet in a single layer. Season with salt and pepper. Cook without stirring for 4–5 minutes until the bottoms develop a golden crust, then stir and continue cooking another 5 minutes until the potatoes are nearly fork-tender.
  3. Soften the onion. Add the diced onion to the skillet and stir to combine with the potatoes. Cook 3–4 minutes until the onion is translucent and beginning to turn golden at the edges.
  4. Add the cabbage and garlic. Add the chopped cabbage and garlic to the pan. It will look like a great deal of cabbage — that’s correct. Toss everything together, season with smoked paprika, red pepper flakes if using, and additional salt and pepper. Cover the skillet loosely and cook 6–8 minutes, stirring every couple of minutes, until the cabbage has wilted and softened and everything is tender and slightly caramelized.
  5. Finish and serve. Taste and adjust seasoning. Return the crispy bacon to the skillet and stir once to distribute. Serve hot, directly from the pan.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 205 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 310mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 265 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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