Sunshine and Olly

by Jonathan Blaustein

I haven’t written much about Poland.

(It’s true.)

I teased the trip, and promised dashing travel stories, but in the end, it’s been a whole lot of nothing. 

Part of it was habit.

Back in the day, in my 11 year column at A Photo Editor, I used to find it helpful to let the trips fade into memory before writing. 

The things you remember, the narrative thread, becomes clearer after the fact.

Even if the details get hazy. (But we have photographs for that part.)

This time, though, with the Poland trip, I had the odd feeling, (for a blogger,) of wanting to keep the best bits to myself. Having spent years over-sharing, (maybe,) the 2025-me might lean in the opposite direction. 

It feels like a project that should be my next book, (after 2020’s Extinction Party,) and I’ve been carefully cultivating the memories, and the photo edit, in case it becomes something more. 

Still, though, I’d be quite the miser if I gave you nothing. 







After my first full day in Krakow, (which is a beautiful, chill, manageable city,) I had dinner plans with Nestie, who is good friends with my buddy scott b. davis. 

She suggested a place not far from the main square, where we could get traditional Polish food. 

If Nestie reads this, she’ll discover I really disliked the pierogi she let me taste. (From her mounded plate of pierogi.)

She was quite happy with them, so I guess they were made right, but I found the meat too rich. 

I ordered Polish stuffed cabbage, from which the Jewish version I grew up with is derived.

The main difference?

Poles use pork, which for Jews is not kosher. 

As I’m not observant, I ate the pork rolls, and they were way better than the pierogi, but definitely too fatty to finish. 









Needless to say, I ate a lot of pizza in Poland, and the hotel breakfast buffets were simply amazing, so that dinner was the last traditional Polish food for the week. 

Today, I’m giving my recipe for a New Mexican version of the Jewish stuffed cabbage my grandmother taught my mother. (My Dad’s mom, so it wasn’t a matrilineal transfer.)

I also wanted to give a shout out to Stan Banos, a blogger who’s been reading my column forever, and has commented more times, (with intelligence,) than I can count. 

Now that Serge and Jessie have begun to write for Sunshine and Olly, we’re welcoming Stan in with a story about contemporary San Francisco, from an insider’s perspective. 

That’s later this week. 

Today, though, the recipe. 









Cooking this dish for 6 hours in the oven requires a bit of feel. 

I start it at 350, drop to 325 for intervals, and 300 for a chunk of it. 

So please know you’ll need some finesse, and also to re-season it during the cooking process. 

Thankfully, the prep is the only proper cooking part, and it goes quickly, if you have a plan. 

Ingredients: 

2 whole green cabbages
3-4 lbs 85/15% ground beef
2 cans diced tomatoes
1 1/4 cup jasmine white rice
Approx 3 cups raisins
2 limes
1 lemon 
1/3 c Orange Juice
1/2 t cinnamon 
1/3 c brown sugar
3 T New Mexico red chile powder 
1/4 of a jalapeño pepper, chopped
Approx 4 T salt 
Approx 2 T fresh ground black pepper 




Set a large pot of water to boil, and add a T of salt. 

Then, wash the cabbage, core them carefully with a sharp knife, then wash them again. 

When the water is boiling, blanch the cabbages by holding them under the water, with tongs, for about two minutes. 

The outer layers should start to look pliant, and a bit cooked.

In a separate bowl, mix together the ground beef, cinnamon, about 2 T of salt, a cup of raisins, a bunch of black pepper, the white rice, and half of the red chile.

For the sauce, in a different bowl, it’s the two cans of tomatoes, (with 1/4 can of water for each, to get all the flavor out,) minced jalapeño, the rest of the red chile, the rest of the brown sugar, the remaining salt, most of the fruit juices, and more cinnamon and raisins. 

As I said at the outset, it will take about 6 hours to cook, in an oven that starts at 350. 

The goal is to use the acid, sweet, and heat to balance out the richness of the beef.

(The cabbage becomes an earthy, melty, rich, wonderful contrast.) 

Taste it over time, and add some more fruit juice, sugar, black pepper, salt, red chile, and brown sugar as needed. 

Serve with white rice, and you will eat like royalty. 

For the record, Mom says Grandma would turn over in her grave, knowing what I did to her recipe. 

And Mom’s allergic to chile, so this recipe would likely kill her. 

Consider yourself warned.