Every food writer in America approaches Thanksgiving with a certain amount of dread. What can one say about turkey that hasn’t already been said a hundred times, and what can be added to the panoply of accompaniments that will satisfy the public appetite for novelty without riling traditionalists?

My own personal dread, as a Savannah-based food writer, is St. Patrick’s Day.

What on this good green earth is there left to say about corned beef, traditional Irish food, green-colored food, corned beef, traditional Irish drink, green colored drink, corned beef, and corned beef?

Never mind that the foods (especially corned beef) that we so deeply associate with Ireland are more clichéd than Scarlett O’Hara and about a hundred years removed from the Irish table of today. A Savannah St. Patrick’s Day spread isn’t, after all, a lesson in history and political correctness, and, cliché though it is, corned beef is to the day what turkey is to Thanksgiving, regardless of whether it is any fun for food writers.

There is, however, one food that nobody ever mentions as appropriate for the day, a food that’s naturally green without any help from food coloring, and is as thoroughly Irish as whiskey and oatmeal—in fact, more Irish than so-called Irish Coffee or corned beef ever were—and that’s the lowly, under-appreciated green cabbage.

Out-of-season greens have only recently become readily available in winter; once hearty cabbages were a staple of the winter diet. Packed in straw in a cool root cellar, their tight heads would stay fresh until spring, providing essential vitamins and minerals until the garden began to sprout fresh, new greens for the table.

That they were such a commonplace staple is probably why cabbages are so taken for granted and looked down on today. They’re rarely seriously considered as a part of fine cooking, and if they appear on a St. Patrick’s menu, it’s only as an accompaniment to the corned beef, or slivered up into that ubiquitous Southern salad, coleslaw.

It deserves better than that. When fresh and carefully chosen and cooked, green cabbage is delicious, its delicate sweetness the perfect accompaniment not only for corned beef but ham, roasted poultry, and most any pork dish.

My Morning News Column provided the usual recipes for cabbage appropriate for a St. Patrick’s Day table, and repeating them here would be superfluous. Instead I offer an old fashioned but lovely way of enjoying cabbage that was made with the leftovers from that column’s food styling photography. It’s a great way to use up your own St. Pat’s leftovers.

Corned Beef Stuffed Cabbage Leaves

Serves 4

8 large, unblemished cabbage leaves

2-3 medium boiling potatoes

1 small onion, trimmed, split lengthwise, peeled, and minced

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 cup chopped cooked cabbage

2 cups chopped cooked corned beef

1 tablespoon chopped flat leaf parsley

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme, or 1 teaspoon if dried

½ cup shredded Gruyere or Swiss cheese, optional

Salt and whole black pepper in a peppermill

About ½ cup half-and-half or light cream

1. Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat it to 375° F. Drop the cabbage leaves in a pot of boiling salted water and blanch until wilted and crisp-tender. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain in a colander. Boil the potatoes until tender, peel while still warm, and put them through a potato ricer into a mixing bowl. You will need 2 cups.

2. Sauté the onion in the butter over medium heat until softened and golden, about 5 minutes. Add it to the potatoes. Put the chopped cabbage in the pan and sauté until dry.

3. Add the chopped cabbage, corned beef, and herbs to the potatoes, and, if you like, the cheese. Lightly mix and season to taste with salt and pepper. Spread the whole leaves flat and divide the filling among them, putting it about an inch from the base of the leaf. Fold the sides of the leaves over the filling, then carefully roll the leaf up from the bottom to fully encase the filling, tucking the sides in.

4. Butter a 9-inch square casserole and put the stuffed leaves into it, seam side down. Dot with butter, moisten with half and half or cream, cover with a sheet of buttered parchment, and bake until they are hot through, about 30 minutes.