Kids Cook Caramelized, Sweet & Sour Brussels Sprouts and Carrots

Preparing a menu for the recent parents night dinner at the elementary school where I teach "food appreciation" classes, I looked over our lessons for the fall and realized I did not have a green vegetable for the entree plate.

Well, the closest thing would have been zucchini. But since the whole point of our work this semester has been seasonal fruits and vegetables, I didn't think zucchini in November really worked.

What did seem to work was my favorite method for cooking Brussels sprouts--searing them in a scorching hot pan, then dousing with red wine vinegar and seasoning with granulated sugar. I wanted to add some carrots for color and variety. Voila, one of my newest most favorite vegetable side dishes: caramelized sweet-and-sour Brussels sprouts and carrots.

Since we'd already served the dish to the parents, I thought it was high time the kids actually made it in class. So that is what we did this week.

I've had the kids in my classes repeatedly practicing their vegetable peeling technique. This is no small matter, since they should all know at a minimum how to properly peel fruits and vegetables. In the case of carrots, I've shown them how to make slow, sure strokes with the peeler--not whack away with the tool getting nowhere--and how to peel one end of the carrot, then turn it around and peel the other end. The first inclination kids have is to try and peel the whole carrot, being ever so careful not to remove the end of a finger in the process. Flipping the carrot end-over-end really does speed things up.

The Brussels sprouts are another thing altogether. I demonstrated how to trim the brown stem end, then cut the sprouts in half lengthwise. But the only cutting tool we have plenty of for the kids is a plastic knife. Have you ever tried slicing a Brussels sprout with a plastic knife? Naturally, it's almost impossible. So the kids get several minutes to saw away at their sprouts, making very little progress, then I take over and slice them with a chef's knife.

Still, I think it's good practice for them.

We then cook the carrots and sprouts--separately--in boiling salted water until they are just done. Plunge them into a bowl of cold water, then dry them with paper towels. My assistant finished cooking the sprouts while we read a book called Herb, The vegetarian Dragon. Then I heat an iron skillet blistering hot, cover the bottom with extra-virgin olive oil and toss in the sprouts, sending a great cloud of smoke rising toward the ceiling.

(At this point, one group of kids was captivated by the aroma of the pot liquor I had been cooking the vegetables in. Before I knew it, they were ladling it into cups and drinking it. Why not?)

We don't have a fan over the stove at school, so the other teachers at this point are in a bit of a panic. The kids think it's the best thing since the circus came to town. More exciting is when the sprouts have browned and I douse them with red wine vinegar, which creates a giant hissing noise and a cloud of steam. Then season the sprouts with granulated sugar, salt and pepper. Repeat this process with the carrots, then combine the two vegetables in a bowl and serve warm.

Honest, the youngest of the children--those being the four and five year olds--mostly walked away from this dish when it was served. They found a million reasons not to like a combination of browned Brussels sprouts and carrots. In the next age group, the kids were talking about how certain they were the sprouts would make them vomit. I offered a $1 reward to the first kid who actually up-chucked after eating this dish. One of the boys made a great show of being sick, but in the end, they all ate it and some even loved it.

So do make this dish sometime when you want to impress friends with how good Brussels sprouts can be in the middle of winter.

Brussels Sprouts Are So Exciting

Some of you are dying to know how I prepared the sweet-and-sour Brussels sprouts mentioned in my earlier posts. I will use that as a roundabout way of introducing my latest most favorite book whose title I don't need to repeat because it is so vividly displayed in the photograph at left.

I heard the author, Jack Staub, on the Diane Rehm show and he sounded so Victorian, like such a throwback, and so passionate about his vegetables in a 19th Century sort of way, that I had to look up his book. I didn't need any convincing. I ordered a copy and boy, was I not disappointed. Even if you don't bother to actually plant any vegetables, if you just like eating them and knowing about them, this is a book worth owning and keeping close to you at all times. Who knows? You might run across some of these at a farmer's market and you will be so proud of yourself for knowing something about them when others are just ogling them.

"I concede immediately that, while I have attempted to make this volume unique in content and tone, I have, in truth, had a singularly superb model for it," Staub writes in his introduction. "In fact, I have been sorely tempted to entitle this work Eminent Vegetables, so highly do I esteem Lytton Strachy's brilliant Eminent Victorians, that early twentieth-century paragon of biographical brevity and wit."

Who says that vegetables cannot be literary?

With its etched lettering, the hardcover binding has the look of a first-edition copy of Gulliver's Travels or The Wizard of Oz. The book is small, novel size. The illustrations, one for each vegetable, are simple, painted drawings, almost like a botanist's handbook. And the descriptions of each vegetable follow in that Victorian manner with brevity and dry wit.

I was most pleased to note that I have owned and planted many of these vegetables already: the Australian Yellow Leaf Lettuce, the Chiogga Beet, Lollo Rossa Lettuce, Mizuna, Red Burgundy Okra. But now I am anxious to acquire Cardoon Gigante, Chinese Rat Tail Radish, Early Purple Vienna Kohlrabi.

It is so hard not to be excited about vegetables after reading about them in such devoted portraiture.

Which brings me to the Brussels sprouts. Staub rhapsodizes about Brussels Sprout 'Rubine.' I have grown a more pedestrian variety. Now, or couple of weeks ago, would have been the time to plant seedlings in the garden for an early summer harvest. Otherwise, they are a cool weather vegetable.

My method of cooking them sweet-and-sour style is as follows: For a pound or so of sprouts, cut off the tough root part and slice the sprout in half lengthwise. Discard any loose or damaged leaves. Drop the halved sprouts into a large pot of boiling, salted water and cook until just tender. Test for doneness by piercing a sprout with a metal trussing skewer. It should slide through the sprout without a terrible amount of effort.

Plunge the cooked sprouts immediately into a large bowl of cold water in the kitchen sink to stop the cooking process. Now spread the sprouts out on some paper towels and pat them dry. Meanwhile, coat the bottom of an iron skillet liberally with extra-virgin olive oil and heat over a moderately high flame until the oil just begins to smoke.

Fill the bottom of the skillet with sprout halves, cut side down, and sear until the sprouts are well browned, adding olive oil if the cooking sound is too tacky or dry. Toss and cook another minute. Now douse the sprouts liberally with red wine vinegar. There will be a great noise, with much hissing and steam. When this subsides, season with salt and pepper. Then dust the sprouts with granulate sugar. Toss them again, swishing everything around. Empty the sprouts onto a platter and continue the process until all of the sprouts are done. Serve warm.