BS

The search for the great plate of BS (Brussels sprouts) all began at a dinner party at my friend’s house. His fiancé’s sister replicates the family recipe of roasted Brussels sprouts in a white wine vinaigrette with pecans. This was my first experience.

Here’s what she does:
1. cuts in half
2. roasts 20 mins
3. stirs in pecans
4. tosses with mustard/white wine vinaigrette

Ok at least that’s what I remember of her recipe.

Here’s what I thought:
1. wow
2. hmmm…
3. mmmm….
4. that’s not bad
5. in fact, I like it. Yes, I like it.

Here’s what I thought in the days following:
1. I gotta get me some BRUSSLES SPROUTS
2. Mmmmm……… Brussels sprouts!
3. Wha? Huh? Brussels sprouts!

They are a slow burn, I guess.

So when I went to 1111 Mississippi (freaking phenomenal) and BS were on the menu, I jumped at the chance. (I also ate a meal consisting totally of sides). (see the back corner)

Here’s what they were like:
1. small
2. overcooked
3. lacking all seasoning

Here’s what I thought:
1. hm…
2. mmm…
3. that’s about it

But again, in the days following:
1. I gotta get me some BRUSSLES SPROUTS
2. Mmmmm……… Brussels sprouts!
3. Wha? Huh? Brussels sprouts!

So I decided to make my own, and this coincided with my fall-themed first ever Vegan Supper Club Dinner Party at my friends’ house (the cupcake ones).

I winged it. Here’s what I did:
1. cut off ends, cut X into base, boil
2. meanwhile, toast pecans in dry skillet; add brown sugar, nutmeg, and cinnamon
3. whisk Dijon, white wine vinegar, olive oil
4. toss

Here’s what I thought:
Honey!

Here’s what I did:
1. stir in honey
2. taste: ohmygod, they are nutty, and sweet, and tangy, and crunchy, and tender, and green, and spicy, and oliveoily, and wow, and ohmy, and dang I’m good, and…
3. OH SHIT!!! These are vegans!!!! They don’t eat HONEY!!!
4. decide not to tell them
5. call my sister to make sure it’s OK not to tell them
6. get advised to tell them
7. decide still not to tell them (I’m really sorry if you’re reading this! Keep in mind it spanned only a few seconds…)
8. become overwrought with fear and worry that one of them is a vegan because of a secret honey allergy
9. remember the chicken stock incident
10. despair
11. admit defeat

So I went to VSC, confessed my wrongs, and as it turns out, they all were willing to eat honey, this one time. The only problem was I overcooked them in the end. Ugh.


Still good, just a little mushy.

Try again: Thanksgiving dinner for 25. Same recipe, but this time I remember NOT to overcook them. But when reheating, again, a little overdone. Dang. But still fabulous nonetheless.

Beets!

I woke up with a hankering for beets. I'm not sure where these hankerings come from, especially when I've never really had beets. But when our pals called us for a dinner party, I nevertheless texted back, "we'll bring beets!"

So I emailed my neighbor, knowing he'd have the perfect recipe for such a thing. His response, at 3am, came as such:

• Buy beets, last time I mixed yellow and red.
• Preheat oven to say 400F
• Wash vigorously - the beets not the oven.
• Trim the greens but keep about 1" of stalk attached.
  
• Prick the beets if they are large
• Salt the beets a lot but not too much - salt to taste later
  
• Put the beets on a large piece of foil
• Coat the beets generously with oil
• Seal tightly the foil around the beets.
• Put the beats in the oven for about 30 minutes
• It's a good idea to put a cookie sheet under them to catch oil drips.
  
• Open the foil and continue to cook until you can pierce easily with a fork but not until they are mushy.
  
• Cool the beets overnight - I just leave them in the oven - don't spill the juice!!!
  
• Peel/Skin the beets with a veggie peeler if the skin is tough
  
• Slice the beets
• Add feta first then salt to taste. Add black pepper.
  

So we set to work, scrubbing, salting, roasting, leaving, shaving, slicing, rosemarying, reroasting, and finally, fetaing. Oh boy. Amazing.


They were the perfect texture of soft, yet toothsome, chewy, yet not underdone. Although not akin to the texture of the seemingly perfect gnocchi, it was equally perfect.

I feared our dinner friends wouldn't enjoy them, knowing full well that not everyone shares my passion for all things garden, but they tore into them; only a few small rounds were left after dinner. But I should have known better; these were the exact crew that introduced me to Brussels sprouts and initiated the quest for BS that reigned my fall of '07.