Brussels, Baby! (The Parable of the Sprout)


Ever have one of those days where you feel like brussels sprouts?

Let me explain.  Brussels sprouts are these amazing little balls of awesome-ness.   Beautiful bright green and full of nutrients and vitamins and goodness.  Layer upon layer of petite cabbage delicious-ness.  Despite all that (and the best efforts of foodies everywhere), they still have a bad reputation.

They are hugely misunderstood.

Brussels bad rep stems primarily from less than ideal preparation.  If all you’ve ever had is a frozen sprout boiled within a soggy inch of its life of course you think it’s awful. Broil them with salt and olive oil until the outer leaves are crispy or sauté them in a pan of beer and bacon and it’s a whole different story.  The sprouts shine.  They are bright and glistening.  They taste mellow and lovely.

Alas, the plight of the brussels sprouts is that they can’t do anything about their reputation.  Imagine if the bag of frozen sprouts could politely ask the customer to set them down and return to the fresh produce section.  If they could advocate to be roasted.  Or scream when they were done being steamed, before a full-on boil occurred.  Yes, if the sprout could speak things wouldn’t look nearly as grim.

Which is the beautiful thing about not being a brussels sprout.

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