I'm on a huge brussel sprout kick. I've had them for dinner -- or as part of dinner -- every night for the last four nights. With another pound in the fridge, I'm thinking I might as well make it five nights in a row. When I was a kid, I loved brussel sprouts, much to the horror of my friends. I'd methodically peel back each paper-thin skin, drop it in my mouth, and hurry to peel back another layer, eager to discover the heart of the sprout. Artichokes held the same allure, and in our house, they were a special, late summer treat. We'd all share a single choke, ripping off its dense leaves and dunking them into melted margarine (I didn't know butter existed until I was twelve). Once it was stripped bare, with the choke exposed, my father would take his knife and with surgical precision, flay the heart. Not a hair of choke remained as he delicately cut the heart into six small pieces and drowned them in the remaining fat. Ever since, I've loved foods that need to be disassembled, though now I'm more inclined to pop an entire brussel sprout in my mouth, steaming and salty, and enjoy it as an intact whole.
And on this 7 degree morning, why not make a batch of popovers? After years of frustration at my popovers not popping, I solved the problem yesterday when I purchased a little $5 oven thermometer. I also used a new recipe that called for putting the melted butter directly into the pan, instead of mixing it in with the batter. Perfection. And J even let me eat four to his modest 2.
But tomorrow it's back to the grind. With new teaching, this semester promises to exhaust me, so I guess I'd better get back to that syllabus.
3 comments:
I promise I will not post on every one of your entries. But what are you teaching this semester? And this makes me want brussel sprouts, too.
Have I told you about my amazing find? Brussel sprouts for single people. At the grocery they now have these frozen packs of baby brussels, single servings, four to a box. And they actually taste pretty wonderful.
I miss the popovers!!!
When teaching Pablo Neruda's "Ode to an Artichoke" I steamed a dozen baby artichokes and let my students taste them. It was a ton of fun seeing their reactions to such a strange veg, which many of them had never tried. (Of course I hoarded the hearts for myself.... I could live on strawberries and artichokes in the summer....) Plus, it definitely helped with the whole artichoke extended metaphor that is the poem. Maybe I'll get to that again this year.
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