I’m really a little old person at heart… otherwise,  why would I get so excited about foods like cooked cabbage and beets? Seriously,  no one I know under the age of fifty looks at a menu and gets excited over fried okra. Well, except me.

Cooked cabbage is something I could eat at least once a week, but The BF tends to wrinkle his nose when I mention it. He’s not a fan of the way it smells when it’s cooking,  even though I happen to think it smells delicious.

I noticed that little heads of cabbage were on sale at the grocery the other day, and after realizing that I’ve never actually cooked cabbage for The BF, I decided that he was getting it for dinner. So there.

It’s so easy, and so tasty…You can make a ton of it and have leftovers for days (it gets better the longer it sits) or just make a skillet full for dinner like I did.

Smoked sausage with potatoes and cabbage

1 package smoked sausage, cut into thinish discs

About 6 slices of bacon

1 small onion, diced

1 small head of cabbage, cut into chunks

4 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

About 3/4 cup chicken stock

Salt and pepper

To start, bake your bacon: line a rimmed cookie sheet with foil,  lay bacon on foil, put into a cold oven and turn to 375°. Bake for 25-30 minutes, then drain on paper towels.

Add about a tablespoon of the bacon grease to a skillet and heat over medium. Add onions and sausage and let cook while you prep the cabbage and taters.

Once the sausage has browned, add taters and cabbage and season. Pour about half of the chicken stock into the skillet, turn down to medium low, cover, and let simmer until potatoes are fork tender. Keep an eye on it, because you may need to add more chicken broth occasionally.

Just before serving,  crumble the bacon over everything. That way, you don’t end up with sad, soggy bacon.

Serve with crusty bread and cottage cheese (and corn, if your child is just crazy about the stuff like mine is).

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It makes a super quick and easy weeknight dinner that will make your stomach happy.

And your toddler, who will cram it into his face by the fistful and then ask for, “Mo? Mo?”

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