Want to know when I share a new recipe? Subscribe today!
More Sides
Simple Spiced Braised Red Cabbage
This spiced braised red cabbage is one of my favourite cold-weather sides. Slow-cooked with apple, vinegar, and warming spices, it turns beautifully soft, sweet, and tangy with just a little bite. I love serving it alongside roast pork, sausages, or even on sandwiches the next day. It’s a dish that feels both nostalgic and elegant, easy to make ahead, and even better after a day in the fridge. Comforting, colourful, and packed with flavour.
Ingredients
- 1 small red cabbage, heart removed, shredded
- 1 red onion, finely sliced
- 1 red apple, grated
- 70g brown sugar
- 70ml cider vinegar
- 25g salted butter
- 1 cup water
- 1-2 star anise
- 5 cloves
- 10 black peppercorns
- large pinch of sea salt flakes
Instructions
- Add all ingredients to a large pot, and stir well to ensure everything is well mixed.
- Cover with a lid, and set to simmer over low heat for 90 minutes, stirring occasionally.
- Serve with your favourite Sunday roast.
What I Cook With
As an Amazon Associate and member of other affiliate programs, I earn from qualifying purchases.
Nutrition Information:
Yield:
8Serving Size:
1Amount Per Serving: Calories: 105Total Fat: 3gSaturated Fat: 2gTrans Fat: 0gUnsaturated Fat: 1gCholesterol: 7mgSodium: 65mgCarbohydrates: 20gFiber: 4gSugar: 14gProtein: 2g
Please note, this nutrition information is to be used as a guide only. Nutrition information isn’t always accurate.
Want to know when I share a new recipe? Subscribe today!
Spiced Braised Red Cabbage

Finding Joy in Small Bites
It’s almost impossible to believe Christmas is less than three weeks away. Not because the shops aren’t screaming it at me, or because the streetlights aren’t lined with snowflakes and stars, but because I’m struggling to feel it. This year feels different. Not just because we’re still blinking our way out of a pandemic haze, but because everything feels heavier. I’m tired. I haven’t cooked properly in months, haven’t shared a recipe in even longer. And yet, here I am, forcing myself into the kitchen with a glass of wine in one hand and red cabbage in the other. This simple spiced braised red cabbage recipe is one of the few festive things that still brings me a flicker of joy. It’s colourful and sweet and quietly comforting – exactly what I need right now.
Back in September, I told my husband I was leaving him. I’d had enough. Years of emotional and physical abuse and exhaustion had worn me down to the point I couldn’t pretend anymore. He begged me to keep up appearances until Christmas. To keep his reputation intact. And because of the mess of my current work situation and the long process of sorting everything out, I agreed. Temporarily. It’s a performance, one I’m gritting my teeth through, but I’ve started looking at moving to Aberdeen in the new year. Australia is calling me too, but with the borders still closed, it’s a waiting game. For now, I’m trying to make peace with this being my last Christmas in this flat. Possibly my last Christmas in Scotland. And while it’s hard to care about Christmas, I figured I might as well cook something.
This cabbage recipe is a small thing. But small things matter when you feel like your life is crumbling. It gives me something to stir. Something to smell. Something to share. It reminds me that even when things are messy and uncertain, I can still create something that feels like love. So here it is. No fanfare. No forced cheer. Just one simple, beautiful dish that makes your kitchen smell like Christmas. And honestly, that’s enough.
Cooking Through the Grief
I used to cook for the joy of it. Whipping up new recipes, tweaking old ones, filling my house with the smell of garlic or cinnamon or slow-roasting meat. Lately, though, I’ve been dragging myself through each day. Food has felt more like survival than celebration. And yet, this spiced braised red cabbage keeps bringing me back to the stove. It doesn’t ask much of me, unlike my husband. Just a few minutes of chopping, a few good spices, and a gentle heat to bring it all together. It’s not flashy or demanding – it’s just there. Like a good friend who doesn’t need you to talk but sits with you anyway.
I know I’m not the only one going through something this Christmas. For some of us, the holidays aren’t full of sparkle and family and laughter. They’re a quiet endurance, a holding pattern. They’re a time to survive and a time to just get through. And that’s okay. If this is your season of transition or grief or letting go, I see you. I’m with you. And if cooking helps, even just a little, lean into it. Let the chopping and stirring be a kind of therapy. Let the scent of cloves and star anise fill the room and remind you that not everything is broken.
I think that’s why I keep making this recipe. Because even though my heart feels bruised and my future is full of question marks, this cabbage turns out perfectly every single time. It’s dependable and it holds its own next to a roast but shines just as brightly in a sandwich with leftover turkey. And when you make it the night before and reheat it the next day, it tastes even better. It’s the sort of dish that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can keep going.
Ingredient Breakdown
The ingredients are straightforward and inexpensive, which is ideal when your emotional bandwidth is fried and your budget isn’t far behind. Red cabbage, of course, is the focal point here – pick one that feels heavy for its size and has tight, glossy leaves. You’ll also need apples, which bring in that natural sweetness and help everything break down into a beautiful tangle. I go for whatever is in the fruit bowl, usually something crisp like a Braeburn or Pink Lady.
Then come the spices. Whole cloves, black peppercorns, and star anise give this dish its deep, spiced edge. They make the kitchen smell like mulled wine without any actual wine in sight. If I’m feeling generous, I’ll add a cinnamon stick too. The vinegar gives everything a nice tang to cut through the sweetness, while a spoonful of sugar balances things out. And a bit of salt, of course. Never forget the salt.
That’s it. No fancy techniques. No obscure ingredients. Just honest, simple food that tastes like a hug. And right now, that’s exactly what I need. Maybe you do too.

