Why We Walk Away—and a Cabbage Worth Coming Back For

Recent years have taught me a business wisdom I’ve observed but never tried to articulate. It’s one of those quiet truths that lives just under the surface of daily life, at least here in the U.S. Maybe it’s different elsewhere? I’d really love to know.

The wisdom is this: constructive criticism is a luxury. And because it’s a luxury, it’s rare.

If a customer doesn’t like something, they don’t say so. They just don’t come back. They disappear—quietly, politely, permanently. No second chances, no hard feelings. After all, there are always other options.

Even when you ask people directly—"How are we doing? What could we improve?"—they smile and say everything is great. You offer a discount for honest feedback, and the response is still, “Everything was awesome.” But their absence says otherwise.

I’ve done it myself. So have many of my friends. And yet, as someone who works in the food industry, I know how painful silence can be. I understand how much it takes to run a restaurant, teach a class, build a food business. The hours, the risks, the personal investment—it’s a kind of devotion. And sometimes, a single piece of careless criticism can undo more than it fixes.

That’s why I almost never give negative feedback. Not because I want to be dishonest, but because I don’t want to break someone’s spirit. Especially when it’s clear they’re trying.

But it leaves us in a strange loop: businesses can’t improve because they don’t hear the truth, and customers don’t speak up because they don’t want to hurt anyone. So we all walk away, unsatisfied and silent.

Great comments here

A few weeks ago, some friends visited a new restaurant. They were excited. They love Georgian food. But they came back disappointed—especially by the cabbage, pickled Georgian-style. “How do you even make cabbage like that taste like… nothing?” We talked and talked, and it stayed with me.

The next day I thought: I haven’t made mzhave in ages.

So I pulled out my favorite version of this pickled cabbage from the Guria region of Georgia—vibrant, tangy, earthy with beets and garlic, and bright with spices. This cabbage doesn’t whisper. It sings.

If you’ve never tried it, here’s your chance. It’s easy to make, keeps well, and is absolutely fantastic with hot boiled potatoes or as a cold snack straight from the fridge. Maybe it’ll inspire someone out there to try again.

Mzhave, Georgian Cabbage Pickled with Beets, Garlic, Hot Pepper, Spices and Herbs

Mzhave | Georgian Cabbage Pickled with Beets

This recipe makes two 1-quart jars. It’s quick-pickled (not fermented), vibrantly pink, and deeply flavorful.

Ingredients:

• 1 head white cabbage, juicy and compact, cut into wedges attached at the core

• 1 large beetroot, grated

• 6-7 cloves garlic, sliced

• 1 jalapeño, fresh or dry, sliced — optional, adjust to taste

• 85g salt (ideally Swanetian Salt)

• 120ml red wine vinegar

• 40g fresh celery leaves

• 1 Tbsp dill seeds

• 1 Tbsp coriander seeds

• 2 bay leaves

• drinking water, as needed

Instructions:

Step 1: Prepare your vegetables. I say "white" cabbage, but te cabbage available at our supermarkets locally is labeled "green" and has many outer green leaves. Remove them until you see white leaves. Slice the cabbage into wedges. Grate the beet. Slice the garlic and chili (if using). Set aside your spices and herbs.

Note: My personal trick for slightly softening the cabbage—while keeping it crisp—is to blanch the wedges in boiling water for about 5 minutes. It not only improves the texture, but also makes the cabbage easier to pack tightly into the jar.

Step 2: Layer everything into a clean non-reactive pickling container (one 2-quart or two 1-quart jars). Alternate layers of cabbage, beets, chili, and garlic. Top with celery leaves. Add enough drinking water to just cover the vegetables. Then strain this water into a saucepan.

Step 3: Bring the strained water to a boil. Add the salt, bay leaves, dill, and coriander seeds. Simmer for 2–3 minutes. Remove from heat. Add the vinegar.

Note: In the U.S., it’s common to add sugar to marinades. Sometimes I skip it entirely; other times, I like a touch of sweetness to balance the salt and vinegar. If that’s your preference, go for it! Start with 1 tablespoon of sugar, mix well, and adjust to taste.

Step 4: Pour the hot brine over the vegetables to fully cover. Weigh everything down with a plate or fermentation weight. Leave at room temperature for 3–5 days, until the cabbage turns bright red.

Note: Instead of using a weight, I pack the vegetables tightly into the jar and pour the boiling hot marinade all the way to the top. This way, there’s no air trapped between the vegetables and the screw-on lid.

Storage: Keep refrigerated in the same container, submerged in brine, for up to 5 weeks—though I doubt it’ll last that long! Keep in mind that the flavor will intensify over time. Taste it as it matures. You may want to rinse the cabbage with cold water before serving to mellow the brine.

Serving suggestion: Drizzle with your favorite good-tasting vegetable oil and serve with piping hot potatoes. It’s the perfect side for roasted, grilled, or barbecued meats—especially fatty cuts. Or enjoy it cold, straight from the jar as a snack. Either way, you’ll taste why this cabbage is worth remembering—and repeating.