How I Fell in Love with Brussels Sprouts

I grew up with Brussels Sprouts prejudice. My dad didn't like 'em. He'd only ever known the sprightly sprout under poor conditions — namely, my grandmother's vicious habit of boiling veggies into submission.

They were bitter and mushy at the same time. Wretched pale lumps. I didn't blame him for loathing them, and with his opinionated introduction, I never even considered experimenting with sprouts.



Later on, (much later, to my great dismay these days) I discovered the Brussels Sprout the way it was meant to be: roasted.

Oh, sweet revelation, thy name is roasted vegetables, and my relationship with these cutie little cabbages hasn't been the same since.



If, like my dad, you find that you and Brussels Sprouts somehow got off on the wrong foot, I urge you to give peace a chance.

This technique is simplicity defined, and may your life be well changed when you try it. If you hate pecans, just skip 'em. I like them quite a bit, but they're not necessary, just tasty.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Pecans (Serves 4)
2 pints fresh Brussels Sprouts
3/4 cup whole or halved pecans
1 Tbsp olive oil
1/4 tsp salt
4 to 5 grinds of black pepper, or to taste

1. Heat the oven to 350°F, cut the Brussels Sprouts into 1/4" slices and pile them into a mixing bowl as you work.
2. Add the pecans, olive oil, salt and pepper to the mixing bowl. Toss to mix well.
3. Spread the sprouts and nut mixture across a sheet tray and place in the oven to roast.
4. After 15 minutes, stir the sprouts on the tray to help them cook more evenly, and return to the oven for another 10 minutes. At this point they should be beginning to show some browning at the edges. (If not, continue roasting for a few more minutes.) Remove from the oven and serve hot.

These days I've grown to love the flavor of Brussels Sprouts au naturel and I often just steam them, but roasting brings out such sweetness and richness, I feel a dish like this is bound to win over the hearts (and tastebuds) of haters.

Happy Eating!

April Fish!

I love-love-love the tale behind the poisson d'avril, aka the April fish. And to think! I went my whole life not knowing this slippery story until last year when J filled me in, bless him!

If you already know, just skip ahead to the recipe. If not, allow me to unwind this kinky yarn:

Waaay back in the day, Charles IX decreed that January 1 would officially be the new New Year's Day in France. Now, personally, I resent that decision because the holidays get so bunched up in late December that I'm never ready for another one on January 1. It just seems overcrowded. I've had more than enough hors d'oeuvres and cocktails by the end of Christmas, thank you very much.

It seems the good people of 1564 felt similarly. They'd been whooping it up on April 1 for pretty much... forever (doesn't late winter / early spring seem a perfectly reasonable time of year to whoop it up?), and they were none too thrilled with stupid old Charlie IX.

Plenty of other people didn't hear about the change of dates at all. Boy howdy! Didn't they look stupid kicking up their crazy yellow tights and crimson doublets, clowning around and celebrating the new year on April 1st when everyone else was calmly calculating the results of their first fiscal quarter.

It became a common prank in France to attempt to sneak a dead fish into the clothing of one's friends. (A dangerous liaison, indeed!) Sticking a paper fish to friends and loved ones has become the more modern (and far less stanky) version of this bizarre ritual.



While I may try to sneak a paper fish or two onto some of my co-workers (not that they'd have any idea what I was on about...), I'd much prefer to receive my April fish in the form of dinner.

Thanks to a pair of whole, fresh rainbow trout, brussels sprouts, some herbs, a shallot and a handful of mushrooms, it's easy to whip up a schmantzy dinner in no time flat. (No foolin'!)

A duxelles (dook-SEHL) sounds challenging (that's French for you), but it's just sauteéed mushrooms and onions (or shallots) with a little thyme and some parsley. Divide the mixture between two cleaned and trimmed trout, rub on a little olive oil and roast. And that's about all there is to it.

Trout Duxelles (Serves 2)

1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 large or 2 medium-sized shallots, sliced thin
1 lb button mushrooms, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
3 Tbsp red wine or sherry
1/2 tsp thyme
2 Tbsp chopped parsley
2 rainbow trout, cleaned and trimmed
Olive oil (to coat the trout)

1. Preheat oven to 400°F.

2. Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat and add the shallots. Sauté until fragrant, about 2 to 3 minutes.

3. Add the mushrooms to the pan with a dash of salt and pepper. Stir frequently to avoid uneven cooking.

4. After 15 minutes or so, the mushrooms should have shrunken considerably and should be apt to stick to the pan a bit. Add the wine or sherry to the pan to deglaze. (Take this opportunity to work any stuck bits off the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon.)

5. Add herbs and simmer until the alcohol has reduced. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

6. Place trout on a baking sheet and rub exterior with a little olive oil.

7. Divide the duxelles and spoon into the body cavity of each trout. Bake for about 20 minutes, or until trout flesh is white and opaque. Serve with a good ale and a crisp salad, a nice rice pilaf or roasted vegetables.

Happy eating!