I love Brussels Sprouts if property roasted or browned. I won't eat boiled ones as they are disgusting. A month of so ago, I looked for recipes and found these two which are easy, especially the Tuscan one:
TWO RECIPES: Sauteed Brussels Sprouts with Pistachio and Lemon, and Tuscan Type Recipe
There is no end to recipes claiming to be the one that makes people like Brussels sprouts—the operating assumption here being that most people hate them. With good reason: when made poorly—which seems to be frequently—they can be sulfurous, bitter, and vile. Done well, however, they can be sublime.
BA’s top Brussels sprouts recipe presents a very good method. But through one twists of fate that only seem to arise when… well, when one is cooking Brussels sprouts, I happened on another method less than a week earlier that is equally good.
How to Pick Brussels Sprouts
What’s the secret to coaxing the charm from a brussels sprout? It starts with the sprout itself. They have to be fresh&mdash’that’s a given. And if you can get them on the stalk, which looks like something a dinosaur would snack on, so much the better (this is a great way to interest otherwise-reluctant kids to approach them; it’s so cool-looking, it has to be good, right?). If you can’t find them on the stalk, you’re better off going with the smallest ones you can find. A big sprout is an older sprout, and an older sprout runs the risk of being nasty.
How to Cook ‘Em
Once you’ve got the ideal sprouts, you can still ruin them (if you’re determined) by cooking them the wrong way. Boiling or steaming, while not defective in themselves, risk overcooking and should be avoided. As most of the “you’re going to love ‘em” recipes (including this one) reveal, the surprise is the delicious, nutty flavor the sprouts take on when they’re slightly browned.
The Bon Appetit approach requires you to deconstruct the sprouts to gain as much surface area as possible. If I understood the instructions (and the picture) properly, that means coring each little green guy as if it were a full-sized cabbage, then pulling the unanchored leaves apart and separating them. If you have larger sprouts (which the recipe calls for) you’ll be working with about a dozen. If you have smaller sprouts (see paragraph two) you’re tackling possibly three dozen. That’s a lot of prep work, especially if you have other dishes to work on.
Luckily, it’s the only prep work required. The leaves (it seems like an awful lot of them at first, but they wilt) are tossed in hot grapeseed oil (in which a little shallot has softened) with shelled pistachio nuts until lightly toasted, and dressed with a few dashes of lemon juice. The result is simple, lovely to look at, and a revelation for anyone who thinks of Brussels sprouts as those evil little grey-green globes.
A note about the pistachios: The recipe calls for unsalted natural pistachios, which is good, since most nuts seem to be a subsidy for the salt industry. But I wonder if this dish could have used the intense saltiness of regular pistachios. As good as it was, that might have brought the flavor into tighter focus. If anyone tries it, please let me know.
Another recipe
As I mentioned, I came across another excellent Brussels sprout recipe less than a week ago. This one is from the estimable food writer John Thorne, (who got it from Janet Ross), and whose collected essays prove that thinking and eating are not mutually exclusive. It’s a Tuscan approach, and there’s nothing to it: Trim the stems on the sprouts and cut them in half, steam them for about six minutes until they’re bright green and slightly tender, then saute them over medium-high in a generous amount of olive oil (grapeseed would be nice as well) until the cut sides and the rounded sides are lightly browned and fragrant. Lower the heat a little, toss in a handful of freshly toasted breadcrumbs and a handful of Parmesan cheese, stir things around until the cheese is melted, and serve. Mmmmmm. You can never have too many good recipes for brussels sprouts.
/johnny