Tag Archives: Cooking

Shredded Brussel Sprouts with Bacon and Nutmeg

Good morning, my lovelies! As promised, here is the first recipe we made during Friday’s cooking class. More about that fabulous evening will be forthcoming, with pictures and stories . . . but first I need to catch my breath.

As you can probably tell, these step by step pictures were taken in the safety of my own kitchen, weeks before the class. And let me tell you–this recipe is amazing. I found the original on this blog, and I am so grateful I stumbled upon it and realized that I needed brussel sprouts in my life. Where did I get the idea that brussel sprouts are bitter and gross? This was a truth I took for granted during my entire childhood, in spite of the fact that I had never tasted them. Let’s debunk this myth right here, right now. There is no hint of bitter vegetable grossness about them. To me, they tasted like a more tender version of cauliflower and cabbage. Fresh and incredible. Add bacon to the mix, and you will fly to a distant and beautiful solar system and back.

Ingredients

(Serves 3)

1.5 lbs brussel sprouts

1/2 lb bacon, minced

1 TBS butter

salt and pepper

1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

Juice from 1/2 lemon

The original recipe calls for pancetta, but while I would love to get my hands on some, my grocery store simply doesn’t carry it. And a special trip to the butcher’s doesn’t always fit into the scope of my week . . . yeah. So here’s the assembly:

First, mince the bacon. I like to cut the strips in half lengthwise and then in small chunks crosswise.

 Start frying it! I used another of my favorite Christmas gifts–a 12” cast iron skillet. It rounds out my collection (a 10” and a 14”).

While it’s frying, take those brussel sprouts by the scruffs of their necks and tell them it’s time to take care of business.

Cut the stems off the brussel sprouts . . .

. . . and then either shred or dice them. I halved them lengthwise, and then kind of whacked the the halves. No need to be precise here.

This was the most time consuming part of the whole dish–chopping the sprouts. They’re small and round, so please don’t cut off your finger while trying to get ’em taken care of. I devised a system by which I cut them all in half first, and then I lined up the halves and cut them in a row. That saved oodles of time. If you try to handle them one by one, despair may overtake you.

Now give the brussel sprouts a nice rinse. I suppose you could wash them before chopping them, but . . . whatever. Take any complaints regarding my brussel sprout washing to the Complaints Department. It’s in the North Pole, and no, I don’t have their phone number. Though if you get through to Santa Claus, put in a good word for me. I’m really hurting for a food processor. And an ice cream maker. And a juice machine. And a yoghurt maker. And a larger kitchen to house all these appliances.

Back to the bacon! Once it’s nice and browned, remove it.

Inspect it carefully . . .

. . . and eat a small piece, just to make sure it turned out okay.

Drain the bacon grease out of the pan and wipe it down with a paper towel if you’re so inclined. Now, add the 1 TBS of butter.

Once melted, add the shredded/chopped brussel sprouts.

Cook for about 5 minutes, adding salt and pepper to taste along the way.

Get your nutmeg grated, and add that as well.

May I add (in a snobbish voice, of course) that freshly ground nutmeg is nothing, I repeat nothing like the stuff in the canister?

It’s divine. And also a hallucinogenic.

On that note, add it into the brussel sprouts.

Now add the bacon back in, and continue to cook for another few minutes.

It’s becoming unbearably hard not to just consume this right now, straight outta that pan.

Squeeze half a lemon, and add the lemon juice right at the end.

Give it a taste–add more nutmeg or lemon juice if needed. You’re looking for a little burst of freshness in your mouth, but not one that overwhelms the flavors from the bacon and nutmeg. Serve it up!

It’s an incredible dish, guys.

I’ve been craving it ever since I ate the very last bite.

The situation is starting to get desperate.

The ladies at our shindig loved it, and you will love it too.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Shredded Brussel Sprouts with Bacon and Nutmeg

Wish you were here

Hi ladies and gents!

I’m just stopping in quickly to say that I’m so thankful for the friendship, encouragement, kind comments, and constructive criticism you all have offered me over the past few months! The blogging experience has been full of surprises for me, and the network of people that regularly read and comment and engage in conversation with me is simply amazing. If I think about it too much, my brain starts to hurt. With a good kind of pain.

Today is going to be a whirlwind of fun and frolicking: I’m cutting out of work early today, and will soon be making a massive grocery store trip with Cassia to get all the supplies for our cooking class tonight. Mr. Dominick’s, beware! A 2-woman tornado will soon be touching ground at your store! And if there happens to be a cheese-sampling station, watch out–I stalk those things. It’s my version of smoking behind the barn.

With our groceries (and skillets and knives and Dutch ovens and microplane) loaded into Cassia’s car, we’ll be heading to Traci’s house, where our mission is to cook and photograph the Roasted Red Pepper soup and Fruit Pizza components (to be assembled later) before everyone arrives at 6:30 pm.

Here’s a peak at our practice run from last Saturday–Cassia is about to put together the Fruit Pizza.

Isn’t it beautiful?

So let’s be honest–the Fruit Pizza gets a little ugly once the red syrup goes on.

But as long as it’s delicious, who cares?

The Roasted Red Pepper soup is so creamy and satisfying . . .

It’s topped with lime cilantro sour cream and broiled corn. Oh joy. And I promise to photograph it again in a non-yellow bowl. Maybe even a non-chipped non-yellow bowl–but let’s not go hog-wild here, folks.

Part of the process we’ll be teaching people tonight is how to beat up a chicken.

But this chicken was really asking for it, so it’s okay. See all those bruises? They’re an intrinsic part of the roasting process.

Just kidding! It’s an olive tapenade, rubbed under the skin. Hideous, but oh-so-good. I’ll have to find a photogenic way to present it when I officially share the recipe with all y’all. Because as it is, looking at that picture is actually subtracting from my hunger quotient.

Oooh, a new weight-loss technique! Whenever you get hungry, just look at that ugly olive chicken picture and you’ll never feel like eating again. Hunh. I stand to make millions.

Anyway, once we get to Traci’s, we should probably lay out groupings of ingredients and the implements needed for each dish in advance so that I’m not scavenging in the fridge for a sprig of rosemary at the last minute while everyone looks down at my crouched and contorted form, doing earnest battle with the crisper drawer with one hand and tugging at the back of my jeans so that they remain appropriately hitched up with the other. It’s these new cuts of jeans, people! Sometimes they don’t stay up all by themselves! Does anyone else have this problem? Bueller?

Knives and cutting boards will be laid out, snack food and drinks both available and out of the way, recipe packets ready to be handed to each lady–we are going to be ready.

I can’t wait to create this creamy polenta . . .

Okay, I’m hungry again.

Hi Cassia! Can’t wait to see you in a couple hours! And thanks for doing so many dishes at my house! Maybe you should come over more often.

Anyway, friends, I just want to add that I wouldn’t be teaching this class if it weren’t for this blog that chronicles my cooking adventures . . . and I wouldn’t be writing this blog if it weren’t for your presence, support, and kindness. So–thank you! To each and every one of you–my silent readers and my regular commenters and my sporadic commenters and that weird person who ended up on my blog after googling “wrestling mud twinks.”

To that weird person: I hope you enjoyed the pictures of my mother wrestling a pig in the mud–and I also hope you find whatever it is you’re truly looking for.

I wish you all were here in Chicago for our shindig this evening–and if you decide to magically travel through time and space, appearing on Traci’s doorstep in a whirlwind of pink and purple sparks, I promise to feed you delectable treats and roasted chickens up the wazoo.

I hope you all have a lovely weekend–and Monday the first cooking class recipe (the Shredded Brussel Sprouts) will be up and running!