Brussels Sprout

Brussels sprouts are a love/hate vegetable. Let this recipe surprise you—even the dubious will fall in love with sprouts. But it’s the experience of tasting the vegetable in an unexpected form—all the leaves separated, tossed in the skillet until tender and sweet—that really makes the difference. They are wonderful as is, but the Lemon Sauce that follows provides a tangy counterpoint to the delicately caramelized green-gold leaves.

The much-maligned mélange gets its name from the undeserved yet pervasive bad reps held by each of the three principal ingredients in this delectable side: turnips, Brussels sprouts, and chestnuts. But I guarantee you’ll find that baby turnips are sweet and juicy and bear no resemblance to the bitter root vegetable you think you know. Gently sautéing wedges of fresh Brussels sprouts renders them crisp-tender and nutty, while browning chestnuts in a cast-iron pan makes removing their skins a snap, giving you unfettered access to the earthiness inside. Pork jowls, as the name implies, are pig cheeks. When cured, jowls become guanciale; braised, they offer amazing versatility and can then be sautéed, grilled, or added to soups. Like pork belly, jowls have tons of flavor and are very rich. I find that braising helps tame them a bit and makes the cut a little less intense. You’ll probably need to special order this cut from your butcher, but it’s worth it. You’ll need to start this recipe one day ahead.

Brussels sprouts used to be up there with lima beans on the list of vegetables people claimed to hate, but I think they’re having an overdue resurgence in popularity. These roasted Brussels sprouts are tender yet firm and have a wonderful nutty, earthy flavor. Rich hazelnuts add texture, as does the tart pop of garnet-colored pomegranate seeds. This is a beautiful fall side dish.

Apples, pork, and cabbage would seem best for fall, but I confess to making this dish anytime I get a hankering for a pork chop and see Brussels sprouts in the market. The tart apple and spicy ginger give it an appealing lightness. I like to use Brussels sprouts for single-serving dishes for an obvious reason: There’s less possible waste than with a big head of cabbage.

Bacon is a natural fit with Brussels sprouts because the salt in the cured meat complements the earthiness of the vegetable. This dish is particularly hearty due to the meaty bâtons of bacon. You may have to have a good butcher slice 1/4-inch-thick strips from the slab of bacon. As for the Brussels sprouts, choose tightly closed sprouts with no yellowed leaves; the ones that seem heavy for their size are the freshest and best.

One of the gifts of the nouvelle cuisine movement was the puréed vegetable. At its worst, a sad puddle of unidentifiable beige gunk; at its most successful, a moreish pool of intensely flavored, silk-textured essence. Sprouts, which marry so happily with cream, tend to look like baby food when given this treatment, so I keep them coarsely chopped instead of whizzed to a pulp. I am exceptionally fond of this little side dish.

Raw cabbage, especially the tight, white variety, would be good here if the idea of raw sprouts doesn’t grab you.

Sprout tops share a luxury of growth and strong flavor with many of the Asian greens. One cold day in November I married them to an impromptu sauce of essentially Chinese ingredients. It worked. The tricky bit was working out what, in future, they needed to share a plate with. A slice of ham steak; a piece of lamb’s liver; a fillet of mackerel, its skin crisped on the grill; a pile of sticky rice with some finely sliced air-dried sausages; a grilled mushroom the size of a saucer. All will work. Eminently.

I often serve this as a main course, but it is in its element as a side dish. Its bright green and smoky-bacon notes would be interesting with grilled mackerel, or perhaps with thinly sliced cold meat such as roast pork or beef. This is essentially a cheap dish, robust and earthy, to which you could add caraway seeds if juniper isn’t your thing, or shreds of fat-speckled salami in place of the bacon, or a few croutons to make it more substantial.

Any blue cheese will melt into the sauce for these sprouts, but I have been using a lot of Stichelton recently, a relatively new, gratifyingly buttery cheese made from unpasteurized milk. A main course with rice or plainly cooked pasta, and a particularly satisfying side dish for boiled ham.

Elegant and richly flavored, this soup features almond butter as its base. Fresh whole-grain bread and a salad of tomatoes and mixed greens make excellent companions.

Pomegranate molasses has a taste that is sweet but with a tartness reminiscent of cranberries that is satisfying for the kid in all of us. Great with boneless, skinless thighs, this chicken dish is glazed with flavor. Don’t forget to spoon the sauce at the bottom of the pot over each serving as you won’t want to miss a drop! (See page 139 for a discussion of pomegranate molasses.) Brussels sprouts that touch the side or lid of the pot may get some roasted leaves. If you prefer to avoid this, simply keep them away from the edges of the pot or cover with sauce.

This is a perfect dish for a seductively healthy and romantic dinner! What better way to say I love you than sensual pomegranates and healthy brown rice in a sweet but spicy dish? By the way, I consider this a mildly hot meal, while my husband calls it medium-hot. Pomegranate-glazed chicken together with tender pomegranate seeds make an irresistible combination. See page 139 for advice on making your own pomegranate molasses. A pomegranate is easy to seed if you slice it into quarters and then bend it backward so that the seeds are exposed and easy to grab off the rind.

This was a popular and exotic dinner party recipe in the “mod” 1960s. My mother-in-law made the traditional version for us recently, and though my husband typically doesn’t like fruit with meat, even he licked his plate clean! I cut the amount of brown sugar called for in the original version immensely because I feel the prunes add a lot of sweetness. You could even omit the sugar entirely and still enjoy a sweet-tasting meal.

Historically, I have not been a huge fan of Brussels sprouts, but now I LOOOOOVE them—and I especially love them cooked this way. I’ll admit this approach takes some time—you start by peeling all the leaves off the sprouts—but it’s so worth it for the fluttery, frizzled fabulousness that happens once you cook them. Also, I find separating the leaves helps get rid of that cabbagey flavor that people who think they don’t like Brussels sprouts complain about. Listen: If you think you don’t like Brussels sprouts, try these; I’ve made a lot of converts this way. The salty deliciousness of pancetta, the crunchy nuttiness of walnuts, and the delicate little leaves make this something special—not like any Brussels sprouts you’ve ever had.

Brussels sprouts are one of those things my mom made once when I was a kid. My sister—the perfect middle child—ate hers right up while my little brother and I sat there frowning at them. I think I was almost thirty years old before I gave Brussels sprouts a second shot. Now they’re one of my favorite vegetables, and this dish is my special take on coleslaw.