I had never made the acquaintance of Brussels sprouts until after I was married. It’s hardly surprising that I had not eaten them prior to that. My dad’s (and thus our family’s) tastes in vegetables when I was growing up were fairly narrow. Canned green beans. Canned peas. Canned or frozen lima beans. Frozen corn. Let’s see … have I forgotten anything? Oh yes, canned pork and beans. Oh, and iceberg lettuce. (That counts as a vegetable, right?)
Those Mushy Stinky Things
I remember, in innocence, telling my future wife prior to our marriage that I liked vegetables as much as the next person; it was just the “fringe” vegetables I didn’t like, such as broccoli and cauliflower. I very well may not have even heard of Brussels sprouts at that point, but I was soon to be introduced to them – at my very first Canadian Thanksgiving dinner, held at my former mother-in-law’s house. I will never forget the first time I saw them: boiled (to death) greenish-yellow things dumped into a mound in a yellowing old china bowl rescued from the old family farmhouse in Alberta. I couldn’t even stand the smell (see below), much less the taste.
Apparently, a lot of other people in the country feel the same way I do/did about these boiled mushy things: a poll conducted in the United States actually placed them near the top of the country’s list of most hated vegetables. Part of the reason is undoubtedly the smell: they are full of sulphur-containing chemicals to deter animals from feeding on their leaves, and overcooking them makes them smell like rotten eggs. This explains why my mother-in-law’s kitchen took on a distinctly unpleasant odor as holiday meals were being prepared. (She was known for overcooking virtually everything, from vegetables to meat.)
It has only been within the last year or so that I discovered the secret and true potential of the humble Brussels sprout: roasting. Somewhere, somehow, I discovered a recipe for roast Brussels sprouts that called for pesto and olive oil. Then, I actually made some. Mark and I both loved it. I couldn’t believe what I’d been missing all those years.
A Bit of History
In preparation for this post, I did a bit of research about the history of Brussels sprouts, which, as it turns out, is rather murky. Various sources have them in northern Europe (the sprouts like colder weather) at various dates going all the way back to the 5th century. They are not clearly documented, however, until the 17th and 18th centuries. Old cookbooks refer to the sprouts being prepared in the “Belgian mode,” which consisted of boiling the sprouts, then pouring melted butter over them. I’m sure Paula Dean would concur that anything can taste better with butter.
As to the introduction of sprouts to America, some sources claim that Thomas Jefferson introduced the species around 1812 from some seeds that were sent to him from France. But the website for Monticello, Jefferson’s home, states that the sprouts were not Brussels sprouts but a form of kale. Other sources claim that Acadian settlers in Louisiana introduced the sprout to America. No one really seems to know for sure.
Roast Chipotle and Pesto Brussels Sprouts
Getting back to my recipe, I experimented with the one I started with, trying this or adding that, all in a distinctly unscientific way. The result was what I call Roast Chipotle and Pesto Brussels Sprouts. I’m not publishing a detailed recipe because I don’t really have one. All I do is make a sauce out of chipotle-infused olive oil (which I buy locally), Sir Kensington’s Chipotle Mayonnaise (available at Whole Foods and other grocery stores) and sun-dried tomato pesto – more or less in equal parts, with perhaps a bit more olive oil than the other ingredients. (I've also experimented with other types of pesto, but I prefer the sun-dried tomato.)
I typically use a pound of sprouts, which should be adequate for 4-6 people. I try to use sprouts that are still on the stalk if I can find them (see lead photo above); otherwise I buy fresh sprouts in a mesh bag or loose, the smaller the better. I never use frozen.
In terms of preparation, I first make a thin slice off the root end of all the sprouts, then cut them in half vertically. If a sprout is considerably bigger than the rest, I’ll cut it into quarters. Any leaves that fall off in this process, as well as any yellowed leaves, are discarded. I then wash the sprouts by submerging them in a bowl of water, after which they are spread out on a paper towel and patted dry.
The sprouts are then spread out on a baking sheet, after which I take the sauce and spoon a little on each one. They then go into a 375-degree oven for 25 minutes. No smell. No mush. Just delicious sprouts.
Moving On
I started making this dish about a year ago. It went along very nicely with our very laid back approach to cooking. Now, however, I am anxious to try new recipes (of which there must be scores on the Internet). Adventure awaits!
References:
http://www.reluctantgourmet.com/all-about-brussels-sprouts/
http://www.monticello.org/site/house-and-gardens/monticellos-mystery-plants
http://foodtimeline.org/foodfaq.html#brussels
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