Brassica oleracea

The Builders (masons) were getting towards the end of their work and things were starting to get a bit fraught on site. Jobs were hurried along and tempers were frayed. As one says in French, I shouted at them like rotten fish. In return for which I was presented with a cabbage; not as you might expect, another strange expression translated directly from the French, but a real live Brassica oleracea - feeling humble and undeserving I accepted the spherical peace offering. The cabbage was from the garden of the mason, somewhere in the outer suburbs. Freshly picked (harvested, uprooted?) that morning.
With butter and black pepper, that evening, it was the best cabbage I'd eaten in a long time. Things are going better now. The windows have arrived, the drains are going in, the roof is advancing, the garden wall was started this morning. Mind you, there's quite a lot of wind to deal with.