Nutty Nuttiness

Having bought more slivered almonds to make Christmas cookies than I am likely to use up in a lifetime, I'm on the lookout ways for to use them. First the snapper from a few nights ago; it used a nice handful but I still have a lot left. Onward!

When My Beloved brought home a boatload of fresh Brussels sprouts, I thought perhaps some of those almonds, nicely toasted, would be good with butter-steamed sprouts, too.

All I did was cautiously toast another generous handful of almonds in a dry pan over medium heat, set them aside, quarter the sprouts with a sharp knife, braise them slowly in the same pan with melted butter and about a tablespoon of water until the water evaporated and left the sprouts and the butter to gently brown together. Sprinkled on the almonds and served.

It was two kinds of nutty. The gently cooked sprouts brought their nuttiness to the dish and, obviously, so did the almonds. The texture contrast was interesting and fun, the colors toned together beautifully and the taste was lovely and mellow with just a flick of the bitter as an aftertaste. I loved 'em. He, while not exactly loving them, agreed that it's a good preparation for a vegetable he's not overly fond of. There's a certain lovable nuttiness in a guy who brings home as a present for his wife a huge supply of a veggie he doesn't really like. No wonder I'm nuts about the guy.

Winter Wealth

I refuse to show you what I made with the riches of Brussels sprouts that My Beloved brought home for dinner from Monterey. It's so ugly, I'm saving it for the Ugly Food Photo contest I'll be running again this year. I'm sure to win my own prize.

Instead, I'll just show you how it started. It began with this wonderful pile of fresh sprouts, which My Beloved brought home on the stalk. I twisted them off and bagged them for the fridge, but I kept out enough for a really, really large serving of this. Cream braised Brussels sprouts - my mouth was watering as I looked up the recipe.

Except, as frequently seems to be the case with me, I didn't have all the ingredients for what I was hoping to make. I could have made a dash to the store for heavy cream but, as you've probably noticed, I'm more about making do with whatever is on hand.

I did have half-and-half and lemon juice, lovely sprouts and sea salt - that's all the recipe calls for - it couldn't be simpler. And I did have a little tub of crême fraîche, so I thought that if I mixed some half-and-half with some crême fraîche, it would approximate heavy cream, right? Well, not exactly.

My problem is that I let the whole simmering thing go on at slightly too high a heat, so the "sauce" turned all cottage-cheesy on me, coating the sprouts not with a smooth sheen of golden cream as Molly's recipe promised but with a bumpy layer that reminded me forcibly of what comes out of my grandson when he is burped after nursing. Not exactly appetizing.

However, I'm a stalwart and I had my taste buds all set for cream-braised sprouts, so I served them anyway and they were spectacularly sweet and delicious. The cream gentles any bitterness and the slow braise brings out the latent sweetness in those little green wedges. If you are one like My Beloved who is a skeptic about Brussels sprouts, try these and you will be converted, I promise. I liked the addition of the crême fraîche - I like anything that adds richness and a little tang - but I'd be happy as a clam to go back to heavy cream next time, too. Either one turns this winter wealth into a dreamy dish.

Sprout Soup

I'm inordinately fond of Brussels sprouts and I'm always looking for new ways to serve them, much to My Beloved's dismay. He will eat Brussels sprouts but he says he doesn't have to like it.

Recently, we discovered a trick for making sprouts palatable to the non-sprout lovers in the crowd, to wit, they taste great if they are raw, or nearly so. Cooked, especially if cooked too long, they can be mushy, sulfurous and just plain nasty. Raw or only lightly cooked, they are crunchy and mild. I've been riffing on gently cooked sprouts all winter.

When I discovered a package of turkey soup in the freezer, I thawed it for lunch one day. Looking into the pot, there was very little inspiration. Tan broth, tan meat, pallid zucchini, nearly colorless onion, white corn - it looked like winter feels. However, when I added three or four thinly sliced Brussels sprouts and a handful of sliced green onion to the pot, it started to look more lively. When it was hot and the sprouts were just barely cooked, a sprinkling of garlic croutons (Andronico's makes delicious ones and sells them in the salad aisle) added another flavor layer and a nice, crispy texture to complement the still-crunchy sprouts and the richness of the soup base. Even My Beloved enjoyed this face lift for an otherwise dispiriting winter soup.

Mon Petit Chou

We seem to be on a raclette kick now that the weather is definitely wintry. It's all relative, of course, as "wintry" here means you might possibly have to scrape your windshield with a credit card to get the frost off in the morning, but usually it's not as severe as that. I did have to bring my poinsettias in off the front steps last night - oh, the hardships we suffer!

Back to the raclette. I had fully intended to add some pancetta when I made the raclette this time but I totally spaced it and, instead, had the idea to add some gently steamed Brussels sprouts before melting under the broiler all that lovely cheese over the red potatoes.

The ticket with these tiny cabbages is not to boil them on high heat - that brings out all their aggressively smelly cabbage-family genes - but rather to cook them gently and only just until they are tender on medium heat with a little water to coax out their sweet side. They like it when you say "pretty please" rather than "Hurry up!"

This simple dish, completed with some tiny, intense cornichons and pickled onions (I like Maille brand but have enjoyed others as well), even got the thumbs-up from My Beloved, who is normally not a huge fan of "mon petit chou." We were murmuring endearments all the way through this delicious dinner. Charles Boyer comes to mind.

His Second-Favorite

My Beloved is someone who must be coaxed to love Brussels sprouts. He will eat them but not with the same relish with which he attacks most other foods. Whenever I see a new sprout recipe, I'm motivated to try some more friendly persuasion.

Molly posted on Orangette (link in the sidebar to the right) recently about her lima beans in cream, with a link to her cream-braised Brussels sprouts; once again, MB got sprouts for dinner and, lo and behold, these were pronounced to be his second-favorite kind of sprouts! His favorite remains roasted sprouts, also a recipe from Molly.

These sprouts were gentle ones, cloaked in cream and cooked a relatively long time, so they all but melted in the mouth. For a sprout lover like me, they were a riff on a favorite; for an avowed Sprout skeptic like MB, they were perfectly acceptable. I call that a win for the Sprout Team!

Seattle Sprouts

I just returned from a marvelous wedding weekend in Seattle with old and dear friends, plus a few new ones I made while I was there. Catching up, retelling old stories and helping with the wedding preparations made me feel like part of the family. Meeting the delightful groom and his Mum (she flew in from their home in New Zealand) added to my roster of delightful new friends. Seattle put on her finest clothes for us - despite her reputation for rain, we had four out of five sunny days and the only rain fell after sunset, which doesn't really count. The fall colors of red, orange and yellow were just starting to tint the trees and the air was crisp. Personally, I suspect that rep is a myth invented by the locals to keep us Californians from moving up there.

In any case, the bride was lovely, the groom was handsome, the wedding dinner was delicious, the cake was sumptuous and everyone had a fine time. After the wedding was over and the newlyweds were off taking some time for themselves, our hostess cooked us a lovely meal, most notably this recipe for Brussels sprouts. She can't remember where she found it but she has doctored it up, anyway, so it is her own now. If you have reluctant Brussels sprouts eaters at your house, take note - this may just be the recipe that finally wins them over.

Slice one pound of fresh Brussels sprouts thinly (no need to peel them laboriously first; just remove any brown ends of the stems before slicing). Crisp about half a pound of bacon lardons and drain them on paper towels. Slice a smallish white onion and halve the slices. Have olive oil, 1/4 cup of chicken stock and about 1/4 cup of real maple syrup ready to hand; this is a stir-fry recipe so it goes fast once you start.

Pour enough olive oil to coat the bottom and sides of a wok or other wide pan. When the oil is hot but not smoking, add the onions and stir-fry for a very few minutes. Add the sliced sprouts and continue stirring and frying until the sprouts turn bright green, add the chicken broth and maple syrup, constantly stirring until the sprouts are crisp-tender but still brightly green, perhaps 2-4 minutes. When the sprouts are nearly finished, add the bacon bits and stir them in. Serve immediately.

The onions add a depth of flavor, the syrup a little sweetness and the bacon a salty smokiness to the sprouts, whose nuttiness is retained as they are not cooked long enough to develop their cabbage-y side. Our hostess claims this dish is great eaten cold the next day, too, but we ate every scrap of this huge wok full of sprouts so there were none left to sample the following day. Make more than you think you can eat if you want leftovers.

Enjoy with memories of a terrific wedding weekend!