Yesterday I sipped a warm pumpkin latte while watching leaves swirl through windy air, both harbingers of autumn.
Yes, despite our recent Indian summer, fall is knocking at our door. It’s waiting at the threshold. And when the chill arrives, my thoughts always turn to soup: big pots of comforting steamy liquid, full of flavorful ingredients, its hearty aroma caressing my nostrils.
Do I sound overly romantic? I admit that I do. Soup has captured my heart. A good broth is like a canvas; it inspires my creativity, and all year I look forward to the time when I can begin my “soup du jour” seasonal art series.
One of my favorite soups is a hearty cabbage-caraway concoction, so it’s no surprise that when the weather turns cold, the caraway comes out of the spice cupboard.
You may know caraway from seeded rye bread. But it’s much more than that.
It flavors things as diverse as cookies, coleslaw and beef stew. It’s used in marinades, as a pickling spice (including for corned beef), in cakes, and to season carrots, pork, duck and sauerkraut.
Root vegetables of all types love it, as do sausages, hearty noodle dishes and strong cheeses. It blends well with coriander, cumin, onions and thyme, and can hold up to such strong flavors as juniper berries and lavender.
And caraway seeds don’t lend their unique flavor to food alone. Alcoholic beverages are flavored with it, such as the Norwegian liquor Aquavit and a liqueur called Kummel that’s made in Germany.
It’s beloved in the cuisines of England, Austria, Germany, Hungary (think goulash), Scandinavia and throughout Eastern Europe. Outside of Europe, caraway can be found in Moroccan, Indonesian, and Indian condiments and foods.
This hearty plant native to Europe, Western Asia, and North Africa is used as an herb (its leaves can be added to salads, soups, and stews), a spice (in the form of its seeds), and in some parts of the world, its parsnip-like taproot is used for food.
Caraway’s flavor characteristics include hints of anise and dill. It’s warm, spicy and slightly sharp, with a bit of a tang and a somewhat nutty flavor.
Some confuse caraway seeds with fennel seeds, and while related, they’re not the same. Fennel has a more pronounced licorice flavor.
Other seeds that share common visual characteristics are cumin, aniseed and dill, and, along with celery seeds, these all contain subtle similarities in flavor.
To muddle matters more, caraway is sometimes called meridian fennel or Roman or Persian cumin.
Caraway has a long history with mankind. Evidence of the seed has been found among food remnants of the Mesolithic (mid Stone Age) era, suggesting it’s been in use for more than 5,000 years.
It’s the first condiment in recorded history, having been mentioned in the medical papyrus of Thebes in 1552 B.C.
In later years, it was mentioned in a twelfth century German medical work, as well as in “The Form of Cury,” a 1390 cookbook documenting Roman and English foods, written by Richard II’s chef.
In Elizabethan times, caraway seeds were part of the tea service, eaten plain to sweeten the breath.
In addition to its culinary uses, caraway has long been used medicinally to relieve flatulence and indigestion. Crushed seeds make a tonic for digestive upset when steeped in water or milk.
Like most seeds, caraway will retain its flavor much longer – up to a year - when stored whole rather than crushed. An airtight container kept in a cool, dry, dark place is best.
If you garden, caraway is a good companion planting, hiding the scent of nearby crops from pests. In addition, it attracts predatory wasps and flies that will devour plant-damaging insects.
A biennial plant, it produces leaves only in its first year and seeds (technically, fruits) in the second, which are ready to harvest when they turn brown.
The leaves when young have a taste reminiscent of dill.
If you happen to read Shakespeare’s “Henry IV,” you may notice that Squire Shallow invites Falstaff to “a pippin and a dish of caraway.”
As evidenced by this line, caraway was popular in Shakespeare’s time, and this tradition of serving roast apples with a little saucer full of caraway still exists at Trinity College in Cambridge.
According to Jeff Cox, Sonoma County restaurant critic and organic food proponent, adding caraway seeds to the boiling liquid for cabbage can reduce some of its strong smell. If that’s true, then the soup below should smell nothing but delicious!
Enjoy the burgeoning autumn weather, and have a happy Sunday! Most of all, I hope you’ll have a chance to savor some soup.
Red cabbage soup with apples and caraway
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion (any color), finely diced
3 medium apples (tart), peeled, cored and thinly sliced
4 cups chopped red cabbage
2 teaspoons caraway seeds
1 ½ quarts vegetable or beef stock
2 cups dry red wine
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon honey, agave nectar, or brown sugar
Salt and pepper to taste
Optional garnish: sour cream, chopped fresh dill or flat-leaf parsley
Heat olive oil in large heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add onion and sauté until golden, about five minutes. Reduce heat to medium.
Add apples and sauté until tender, about four minutes. Add cabbage and sauté until beginning to soften, about six minutes. Add caraway seeds and stir one minute.
Add broth, wine, vinegar, and honey, agave nectar or brown sugar. Bring to a boil, and then reduce heat to medium-low, cover pot, and simmer about 30 minutes.
Uncover and simmer until cabbage is very tender, about 30 more minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
To serve, ladle into bowls and, if desired, top with a dollop of sour cream and sprinkle with fresh dill and/or parsley.
Makes about six servings.
Esther Oertel, a freelance writer, cooking teacher, and speaker, is passionate about local produce and all foods in the vegetable kingdom. She welcomes your questions and comments and may be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .