Name: German Cabbage and Dumplings
Prep time: 25 min
Cook time: 35 min
Total time: 1 h
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: German
Ingredients: Half a medium green cabbage, sliced up (Savoy or even red cabbage works); 1 large onion, chopped; 2 cloves garlic, minced; 3 tablespoon unsalted butter; 1.5 cups vegetable broth (or chicken broth or bouillon cube + water); 1 teaspoon caraway seeds (optional); Salt & black pepper, to taste; 2 cups all-purpose flour; 1.5 teaspoon baking powder; 1 egg; ½ cup milk; ½ teaspoon salt; A little parsley, chopped (optional)

This Dish Feels Like a Big, Cozy Hug

If you’ve ever had one of those damp, grey days where you’d rather just pull the covers over your head, man—German Cabbage and Dumplings is the thing. I swear this recipe is like my culinary security blanket. My Oma used to make a giant pot for Sunday lunch. The kitchen windows fogged up so much you could barely see outside, and if I, in my infinite childhood wisdom, tried to sneak a dumpling early, I’d have to answer to my uncle (hid under the table once—didn’t work). Honestly, the smell alone is reason enough to make it, especially if cabbage typically makes you wince.

Why This Is a Regular in My Kitchen

I make this when I’ve got half a cabbage knocking about in the fridge and no clue what to do with it. Or if my day just needs a bit of a pick-me-up (cabbage is underrated for that, trust me). My family goes a bit wild for the pillowy dumplings—my son eats them with his fingers (not even kidding, don’t judge us). And you know, when I’m running late or just plain can't be fussed, I toss in whatever leftover protein I have, and, bam, dinner. One time I mixed in some weird smoked tofu… not sure I’d recommend that, but live and learn, right?

What You’ll Need (but I swap stuff all the time)

Half a medium green cabbage, sliced up—you can use Savoy if you’re feeling fancy. I’ve even gone with red cabbage, but then it looks a bit, well, surprising.
1 large onion, chopped. Sometimes I go with two if I want it a bit sweeter.
2 cloves garlic, minced (or, you know, a spoonful of the jarred stuff—no judgement).
3 tablespoon unsalted butter. My grandmother always swore by Kerrygold, but honestly, I just use whatever’s cheap.
1.5 cups vegetable broth (chicken broth if I’m not making it vegan, or honestly just water and a bouillon cube works in a pinch).
1 teaspoon caraway seeds—I sometimes skip these if I can’t be bothered picking them out of the spice cabinet.
Salt & black pepper, to taste
For the dumplings:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1.5 teaspoon baking powder (don’t overdo it or the dumplings go mutant)
1 egg (sometimes I use two small ones from our neighbour’s chickens - they’re tiny!)
½ cup milk (or a bit more if the dough acts stubborn)
½ teaspoon salt
A little parsley, chopped (optional—but my mum used to put it in, and now if I skip it, the dish feels half-naked)

Okay, Here’s How I Throw it Together

Get a big pot and melt your butter over medium. Dump in the onion and garlic—try not to burn them while you’re texting or checking Insta—and cook until softened, about 5-ish minutes (I usually get distracted here and add a little water if it gets sticky.)
Add the cabbage and caraway seeds. Give it all a good stir so the butter gets everywhere—you want the cabbage looking a bit shiny. If it looks like too much for the pot, no stress, it’ll cook down. (Don’t fret if the onion sort of disappears into the mixture. That’s half the point!)
Pour in the broth. Bring the whole lot up to a gentle simmer. Season with salt and pepper, give another stir, then pop the lid on and let it cook for about 15–20 minutes. The cabbage should relax and get kind of soft, like it’s just come back from holiday.
While that’s bubbling away, make the dumpling dough. Mix flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. Make a little well and crack in the egg. Add milk, and stir until it forms a sticky, not-too-thick dough (I always give up stirring with a spoon halfway through and just use my hands. Messy, but it works better.) If it’s dry, add a splash more milk until it gets nice and blob-like.
Gently nestle big spoonfuls of the dough onto the cabbage mixture. I usually get 8-10 dumplings out of it—sometimes one massive one that someone inevitably fights over.
Put the lid back on and let it all cook for another 15-ish minutes. Try not to open the lid—seriously, it’s tempting, but the dumplings get grumpy if you do. (Though I confess I peek sometimes just to make sure they’re not blowing up like beach balls.)
The dumplings should be puffed up and the cabbage tender when it’s ready. This is the bit where I always sneak one before dinner. Check seasoning, throw on the parsley, and serve hot—but don’t burn your tongue in your excitement.

Just a Few Notes – Lessons from Many Experiments

The caraway is classic, but half the people I know dislike it. Leave it out if you want, or, on second thought, maybe try fennel seed?
Don’t linger too long before eating—the dumplings are best soft and warm. I think this tastes even more comforting the next day, but nothing beats fresh!
Once I forgot to set a timer—still turned out alright, but my dumplings were a tad doughy in the middle. Lesson learned: Do the poke test.

Adventures with Variations (and One Flop)

I once browned some bacon and threw it in before the cabbage. Amazing. Smoky goodness covers up all ills, even a late dinner.
Chopped ham works if you’ve got leftovers. Or seared smoked sausage, equally legit.
I tried whole wheat flour for the dumplings once (health kick phase). Came out dense as a brick—skip that idea unless you want a jaw workout.
I have a pal who drops in some grated cheese at the end. Can’t say no to melted cheese, right?

What If I Don’t Have the Right Equipment?

So, I usually just use my trusty old Dutch oven, but any big-ish pot with a lid will do the trick. If your lid vanished off the face of the earth like mine did for two months, cover with foil and stick a baking tray on top (doesn’t look pretty, but works in a pinch!).

Storing Leftovers? Here’s the Real Truth

Pop it in an airtight container, stick it in the fridge—it’ll be good for up to two days. But honestly, it never makes it past day one in my house (I blame midnight snack raids).

How We Serve This in My Family

We always scoop it into big bowls and eat on the couch, feet up, movie on. I’ve been known to add a bit of sour cream or a sprinkle of extra pepper. Occasionally, a drizzle of vinegar hits the spot (thanks, weird uncle Dieter!).

Pro Tips—Stuff I Learned the Hard Way

Don’t rush the dumplings. I once tried turning up the heat to hurry them—not great, dough in the middle. Slow and steady wins here.
Whatever you do, don’t forget to taste for salt at the end. Bland cabbage is, well, not ideal. I used to skimp and always regretted it.
If the dumplings seem sticky, dip your spoon in water before scooping. Just makes life easier, I promise.

FAQ—Yes, People Ask Me These!

Can I freeze leftovers? Hmm, technically yes, but honestly, the dumplings turn a bit rubbery after thawing. Wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re in dire need.
Can I make it vegan? Sure thing! Swap butter for olive oil, use plant milk and egg replacer in the dumplings. I’ve done it in a pinch—comes out surprisingly nice.
Do I have to use caraway? Not at all (see notes on picky eaters up above). Totally your call.
Help, my dumplings didn’t cook! Patience, my friend. Make sure the pot’s simmering gently, and keep that lid on tight. If they’re still underdone, give ‘em a few more minutes.
Can I add meat? Of course! Bacon, sausage, smoked ham—go wild. The more the merrier, as they say in my neighborhood.
This seems tricky. Is it? Actually, no—it just looks like a long list, but I promise it’s as forgiving a recipe as they come. If I can pull it off half-distracted, you’ll be just fine!

Now, stop second-guessing yourself and get that pot on the stove—your kitchen needs that cabbage perfume wafting through it tonight.

German Cabbage and Dumplings