Brussels Sprouts with "Bacon" and Pears

brusselbacon1 Yet another installment of my Weekday Lunch series, where I share recipes suited for home or the office.

Last Wednesday night, a colleague of mine had a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving party. The idea is brilliant. Since most of us spend Tday with anyone from parents and siblings to in-laws and cousins twice removed, might as well take the night before to be with friends and surrogate family members, and to toast the holiday in style. And that's just what we did. We ate butter chicken (spicy!) and Brussels sprouts with apples and the most trashy-chic tater tot casserole; we pigged out on pecan bars (from yours truly) and bread pudding and phenomenal ricotta cheesecake; and we washed it all down with lots and lots of bourbon. There truly is no better way to usher in Thanksgiving.

The next day, having landed in Detroit to spend the weekend with D's family, those Brussels sprouts were still on my mind. They were perfectly caramelized, much softer in the middle than I usually make them, and speckled with little chunks of roasted apple, which provided the perfect sweet, tangy contrast to the smoky and just-barely-bitter sprouts.

Last night, I was determined to make something similar. I knew I had some good-looking sprouts from the previous week's farmers market, and I had some vegetarian bacon in the freezer, which I've used to add smokiness in other recipes to good results. I happened to have used up my last apples on Monday to make a crisp, but I did have two seckel pears -- small, crunchy pears with a relatively tart flavor -- that I thought would do the trick. I halved the big sprouts and left the little ones whole, chopped the fake bacon crosswise into short strips (feel free to use the real stuff), and roughly chopped the pears. I tossed all three together on a baking sheet, drizzled a couple tablespoons of olive oil, and used my fingers to coat the mixture. Just before popping the tray in the oven, I sprinkled a healthy pinch of salt and ground some black pepper on top. I baked them at 400 degrees for about 25 minutes, mixing it all around at two different points during baking, until the brussels sprouts were fully soft and brown on the outside, the pears had caramelized, and the bacon bits were crispy. When it came out of the oven, I took a nibble to test for doneness, and ended up eating half of today's lunch while hovered over the stove. That should speak for itself.

Brussels Sprouts with "Bacon" and Pears serves 6

1 1/2 lbs brussels sprouts 3 tablespoons olive oil salt and pepper 2 pears, chopped into a medium dice 4 strips bacon or veggie bacon, diced into small pieces

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cut the brown tips off the brussels sprouts and slice each sprout lengthwise in half. If sprouts are very large, slice into quarters; if very small, leave whole. In a large bowl, toss brussels sprouts, pears, and bacon with olive oil and plenty of salt and pepper. Spread out on a large baking sheet in a single layer and roast, tossing occasionally, until very browned on the outside and soft inside, about 40 minutes. Taste and adjust for saltiness, then serve immediately.

Cauliflower with Brown Butter

brownbuttercauli1 Part of the fun of food blogging is that my kitchen rarely sees the exact same dish twice. Driven by the need for new content, I'm always in search of the next great recipe. I abide some serious duds along the way, but they're a necessary evil in this business, and well worth the pain when you consider that experimentation is the only way to unearth the new best recipe.

Folks, this is the new best recipe.

The minute I started to make it, I knew it'd be something special, and frankly, I'm a little shocked that in 26 years of eating mostly vegetarian food, 8 years of cooking for myself, 5 years of being really interested in food, and over 2 years of food blogging, I never came across this sublime combination. The minute the cauliflower hit the heat, I knew I'd struck the jackpot. Consider the nutty, sweet sides of cauliflower; you can imagine how brown butter might amplify that nuttiness. It plays the perfect foil to the sweetness as well, letting it come out without overwhelming you. A hit of lemon zest at the end of cooking brightens the flavors and cuts the richness, and a quick confetti of grated Parmigiano Reggiano adds that perfect amount of salt. Seriously, this is the best tasting thing I've had in so, so long. I made it twice in the two weeks before Thanksgiving, and I just bought more cauliflower to make it again. It's perfect. If you don't trust me, you can check out this NYT recipe and be just as weirded out as I am that Julia Moskin and I had the lightbulb moment at the same time. How bizarre.

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I prepared the cauliflower two slightly different ways: the first time, after browning the butter, I reduced the heat to low and basically poached the cauliflower. The second time, I raised the heat a bit to get a sear on the florets, and much preferred it this way. Also: the first time I made it just as written here; the second time, I added a few green olives instead of the cheese. I much prefer the cheese. I also trust Moskin that this dish would be great with some sage salt; check out her recipe for that preparation. But seriously, put some butter in a pan, let it brown, and add the cauliflower. You won't be disappointed.

Cauliflower with Brown Butter

serves 3-4

1 head cauliflower, de-stemmed and cut into florets 3 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 teaspoon lemon zest 1/4 cup Parmigiano Reggiano cheese salt to taste (I used about 1 teaspoon)

Melt butter in a large saute pan over medium heat. Butter will melt, then foam, then start to brown. Stir it carefully, watching to make sure it doesn't burn. As soon as it starts to brown, add the cauliflower and a sprinkle of salt. Leave the heat at medium and try to resist the urge to stir; you want a bit of a crust to develop. Check undersides at around 5 or 6 minutes. If browned, flip and continue to cook. Leave the second side to cook a bit longer; you want to both brown the outside and ensure that the inside is cooked through, though I do like mine a bit al dente. Mine was done at around 15 minutes total, but depending on the level of your heat and the size of your florets, it could be more or less. Be patient, taste often. When your cauliflower is done, transfer it into a bowl, add the lemon zest and cheese, and stir through. Taste and adjust salt level. I prefer to serve immediately, but it's good at room temperature as well.

Eggnog Ice Cream

eggnogicecream1 A couple weeks ago, I went to a midday workweek lunch at Vidalia to take advantage of what was an excellent deal: $19.90 for app, main, and desserts -- a large selection that included their signature lemon chess pie and pecan pie, for which they're known. (By the way, the deal is no longer that good: $24 for lunch, and classic desserts aren't included. A real shame -- if they'd only keep offering that pecan pie I'd keep coming back.)

But I digress. The pecan pie at Vidalia truly is one of Washington's great desserts. Its texture was smooth and silky, not at all jiggly, and both the crust and the filling are perfumed with toasted pecan. And if the bar wasn't enough to please on its own, the clincher was a generous scoop of dark brown bourbon ice cream. My colleague and I couldn't stop eating it.

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When the ice cream was still on my mind two weeks later, I decided I had to give it a go in my own kitchen. I poked around online for a good recipe, but all I found was one that called for sweetened condensed milk. Why anyone would ruin the best dairy treat with sweetened condensed milk is beyond me; back to the drawing board.

How hard could it be? I figured I'd follow my usual formula for adding alcohol to ice cream, 3 tablespoons per quart, which seems to be enough to improve the texture without preventing proper freezing. I'd make a straightforward vanilla custard base, chill it, add the bourbon, and chill it in the machine. Easy enough. But right before freezing the custard, I dunked a spoon in to taste and adjust the flavors, and it was only then that I realized what I'd made: eggnog.

oops.

Too late to start over, I thought. I froze the custard base, and now I've got a quart of perfectly tasty eggnog ice cream in the freezer. If you're a fan of 'nog, this is just the thing for you. It's creamy and smooth, with no shortage of vanilla and a nice burn from the bourbon. Highly recommended. As for the bourbon ice cream, I guess I'll be making that another time. I wonder if it would fare better as a gelato, made with just milk and cream and no egg yolks (to avoid the chances that it'll taste like eggnog again). I'm not a big fan of ice creams that contain cornstarch, and after conferring with a colleague, we both agreed that I should use a higher ratio of cream to milk than I usually do, to compensate for the loss of the fat in the egg yolks and aid the overall texture. Any other ideas about how to make this work? Leave them in the comments.

Eggnog Ice Cream using my go-to vanilla ice cream base recipe, from David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop

1 cup whole milk 2 cups heavy cream, divided 3/4 cup sugar 1 vanilla bean, seeds removed with tip of sharp knife, bean reserved 6 egg yolks 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 3 tablespoons bourbon

Put one cup of cream in a large mixing bowl and set a strainer overtop.

In a small saucepan, combine milk, the other cup of cream, sugar, vanilla bean, and seeds. Heat over medium until hot to the touch; remove from heat, cover, and steep at least 30 minutes, until bean infuses milk.

Whisk together egg yolks until well mixed. Slowly add ladlefuls of the hot milk mixture to the egg yolk, stirring all the while, to temper egg yolks. When you've added several ladlefuls of the milk and incorporated them into the eggs, pour the egg-milk mixture into the pan with the rest of the milk, and whisk rapidly to incorporate. Heat the mixture on low, stirring continuously with wooden spoon, until mixture has thickened enough to coat the back of the spoon. Pour mixture through strainer into reserved cream, and press on any solids to release as much of the custard as possible. Stir in vanilla extract and bourbon, and chill thoroughly. Freeze according to ice cream maker directions.

Thanksgiving Menu Planning

pumpkin1 This year, I'll be out in Michigan for a turkey-filled T-Day with D's family. However, longtime readers of this site know that I grew up in a vegetarian household, and as such, am accustomed to a turkey-less (but no less festive) holiday. Before you scrunch your face into a frown and get all judgmental, let me sing my annual chorus of "it's the sides that really count!" I'm a side-dish gal. I invest my gastronomic pennies in the yams and the stuffing, the mushrooms and onions and pretty red-orange hued fall salad; for me, the sides are the main event, the turkey playing a supporting role (if that). Also, given that I've never actually made a Thanksgiving turkey, you'll have to look elsewhere for that recipe. However, I think it's fair to say I have a proven track record of producing great vegetarian Thanksgiving menus, and that will hold true this year as well, Detroit excursion notwithstanding.

Here are some of my favorite Thanksgiving-friendly vegetarian mains and sides from the NDP archives:

If that list isn't quite enough, I've also compiled a bunch of great ideas from across the web that I thought you might like:

Hopefully you'll find these resources useful. And if all else fails, remember -- Thanksgiving is about more than perfect turkey and delectable sides. It's about relishing fall before winter sets in, enjoying family and all the drama involved in these get-togethers, playing board games until when you blink you see Monopoly money, and soaking up a rare four day weekend. The food is only part of the game -- don't sweat it.

Wishing you all the happiest of holidays!