In her vain attempt to justify shaking up with one of her families' mortal enemies Shakespeare's Juliet utters that immortal line
' What's in a name? that which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet'
As futile as her balcony mutterings may have been the lass had a point. Substance wins every time over words...in which case we can forgive the French for their questionably titled cabbage pastry. Probably more familiar to you as choux pastry, cabbage is indeed the literal translation. Perhaps a step up from it's orginal moniker (from when it had just been imported along with it's chef from Italy) as pâte à popelini... roughly translated to breast paste. The elegance of the french language makes it perfectly ok to refer to these as little cabage puffs... and indeed it would seem you're lover too as the endearing mon petit chou is translated to my little cabbage.. or perhaps the franks are just really big fans of cabbages. My point being call it what you like but when made well desserts from this pastry are divine little puffs of heaven...



