Writing for the New York Times, Kim Severson annually digs deeply into food trend predictions and comes up with what we ought to expect to see in the coming year. For islanders, the good news seems to be that with a little tweaking, we can participate this year. Or, actually, what we have been doing all along seems to be coming around again.
The past couple of years have been about “chasing micronutrients”; that is, all the stuff touted on packaging that you’ve never heard of and didn’t know you needed, along with cramming protein.
The upcoming trend is nicknamed “grandmacore,” defined as “the food your best imaginary grandma made.” Apparently, over in America there are whole restaurants dedicated to grandma cooking: braising, stewing, long slow cooking following recipes with deep family history.
On islands, I think you’ll find this cookery at potlucks and in recipes enshrined in cookbooks assembled by churches, clubs, and community organizations, sold to raise money.
At this point, back to the landers of the 1970s are old enough to be grandmas and grandpas, so home-canned food, sourdough bread, pickles and preserves—all considered grandmacore—meet up with another 2026 trend, “backyard bounty,” unique locally foraged fare.
The ingredient of the year is vinegar and will appear even in cocktails mixed by bartenders who may never have known that fruit-infused vinegar mixed with sugar enough to make a heavy syrup called shrub helped early 19th century teetotalers make a tasty non-alcoholic beverage. (There was an alcoholic shrub as well.)
Nine kinds of vinegar inhabit my pantry at present, including a blueberry balsamic, a terrible waste of blueberries. The white vinegar is useful for cleaning projects.
Of course, Mainers and Maritime Canadians have been ruining French fries for decades by dumping malt vinegar on them, and vinegar and salt potato chips garnish snack food shelves.
Seafarers received vinegar as part of their rations even into the 20th century and they added it to their food as a condiment.
The best news though: cabbage will be The Vegetable of the Year. Easily one of the least distinguished vegetables, compared to, say, arugula, cabbage comes through time as peasant fare, with early medieval and Renaissance elites claiming their digestive systems weren’t robust enough to digest the stuff.
Even in the 1800s, truly genteel company might have been offended if a host served simply boiled cabbage. If one served cabbage at a ladies’ luncheon, one had to concoct a version considered acceptable to ladies that was heavily sauced with cream and butter to diminish the strong flavor and lower-class smell.
Yankees generally preserved cabbage whole; raw, but segregated in cellars or in a less smelly pickled form, like chowchow or spiced vinegar, not fermented as in sauerkraut which helps explain the rude nickname for German immigrants.
The raw shredded cabbage dish with a dressing we called Cole slaw actually came from the Dutch and in a charming garble, early versions of the recipes were titled cold slaw. We still relish it, and it’s ubiquitous alongside fried fish or clams, hot dogs, and at picnics and bean suppers.
My favorite cabbage story, though, comes from George Brown Good’s 1887 history of the American fisheries wherein Gloucester fishermen were favorably compared to Maine coast fishermen. The Gloucestermen fished steadily through the seasons, industriously changing gear on their vessels to suit different fish to pursue. They even had a Shakespeare reading society.
Maine fishermen, on the other hand, had the reputation of fishing for one trip, coming home, selling their catch, then resting on their laurels until their money ran out, then they’d make another trip. Besides that, they grew cabbage in their front yards. Needless to say, they also probably drank too much and certainly didn’t read Shakespeare.
Cabbage freshly harvested out of my island garden and neatly shredded, dressed lightly (hold the pineapple) is an unmatched crunchy, juicy treat. It ought to be the Vegetable of Every Year.
Sandy Oliver is a food historian who cooks, gardens, and writes on Islesboro. She may be contacted at sandyoliver47@gmail.com.
