Brussels X Sprouts

I hate to exercise.  As far as I'm concerned it's two 4-letter words joined at the hip:   EXER*CISE;  F*** THIS. Same thing.

So you'll probably be surprised to discover that I joined a new gym this weekend: X SPORTS.  It has  free weights, stair climbers, tread mills, ellipticals, circuit training, spin classes, zumba, body sculpting, 3 lap lanes, and a juice bar.  It's open 24/7, 365 days a year.  It's close to home, and it's relatively cheap.  I can get a massage, a pedicure, and exercise outfits right on site.  In short, they've taken away just about every excuse I can come up with not to exercise.  And there's probably less than 50% chance that I'll last a month.  I'm amazed at those people who thrive on exercise.  They bop around "feeling the burn."  They like to sweat.  They seek their endorphin rush like I seek a cosmo at Happy Hour.  I don't get it.  

 I've always thought of exercise as a really nice idea.  I suppose that's the problem.  I love thinking about being active.  In the last four years, I've thought about, and actually tried: ice skating, running, tennis, kayaking, bikram yoga,  PX90 (think Jack Lalane with a serious ADHD issue) and rock climbing.  (Rock climbing was inspired by a woman rock-climber I once met with arms to rival Michelle Obama's. I lasted about as long as it took me to get up 15 feet on a rock-climbing wall, at which point I panicked from the height--not proud here--and had to get back to tierra firma via the rappel of shame while 50 teen-aged Girl Scouts snickered and laughed.)  Did I mention that I'm not a jock?  Truth told, I'm a complete abject woosie.

But in 6 short months I'm headed to a sunny Caribbean resort on an equally sunny Caribbean island.  I may be middle-aged and have 3 kids, but I'm damn well wearing a bikini.  It's important to have goals, you know.  Given my lack of athletic prowess, there's really only one way to make this happen, and it isn't in a gym.  You don't lose weight at the gym.  You lose weight at the grocery store, the restaurant, and in the kitchen.  It's what you put in your mouth, stupid.  And if I'm going to get into that bikini, what goes in my mouth better well be a whole helluva a lot of vegetables. I'll start with Brussels sprouts. This is hard core.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts (serves 4)


1.  Buy about 16 Brussels sprouts.   That's the hardest step.

2.  Cut them in half.

3.  Place them in a roasting pan and generously season them with salt, and olive oil.  Don't be stingy on the olive oil.  For God's sake, you're preparing BRUSSELS SPROUTS.  Make sure they taste good.  Put on some more olive oil.

4.   Roast at 375 degrees for about 30 minutes.  They should be all nice and toasty brown--naturally caramelized, but to just make sure that they taste appropriately sweet, toss them with about 1 Tbs of sugar and 1 Tbs of maple syrup right before you pull them out of the oven.

5.  Unfortunately, these actually turn out so well that when you pair them with roasted potatoes, tarragon carrots, roasted pork tenderloin, and a lovely pinot noir, well, you need to get yourself to a gym.  Damn.

Silence of the Lamb

I love dinner parties.  What can say?  I'm Roman Catholic.  We built an entire religion around a dinner party.  Jesus knew that sitting around a table sharing food creates something special.  Good wine paired with good food creates good conversation  and that leads to good friends.  That is, of course, unless you cook the wrong thing.  Then all bets are off.  In fact, maybe that's what was up with Judas.

I've had my share of mistakes.  I once made salmon cakes for a group of people that hated fish.  Instead of raucous laughter and banter all I got was awkward looks as people pushed the food around their plate and asked politely for more bread.  Fortunately, I was allowed to redeem myself.  The next time I got this crew over I had sufficiently interrogated them ahead of time to know everything about their food preferences.  Then there was the lamb debacle.  I had made a couple of gorgeous racks of lamb, and I invited a couple over to share them with us.  Maybe they thought we said "racks of spam," but either way they were so fearful  of the menu that they passed on the invite altogether.  From their perspective, I suppose they figured that if I willing to serve up lamb--or spam, then dog and cat couldn't be far behind.  I never realized that some people think of lamb as some kind of weird ethnic delicacy.  Just for the record, it tastes nothing like chicken.  In any event, we never could bridge the culinary gap, and I never got them back over.  Suffice it to say that dinner that night was very very quiet.

Despite it's history, I love this recipe for roasted rack of lamb.  I still make it for guests--albeit with plenty of advance notice and express approval.  Make this recipe at your own risk.  It cost me a couple of friends, or at least a really good dinner party.


Roasted Rack of Lamb


1.  Gently saute a fine dice of about 6 large shallots until they are nicely caramelized.  Shallots are a weird little onion about the size of a small head of garlic.  They have a mild onion-garlic flavor, but pack the same punch as a regular onion when you are cutting them; prepare to cry.

2.  Add 6 Tbsp of balsamic vinegar and boil until all of the vinegar evaporates or is absorbed by the shallots.

3.   Add 1 cup of fresh bread crumbs and 3 Tbsp of fresh thyme.   Salt and pepper to taste.

4.  Trim all the visible fat from two racks of lamb.  They are fatty little devils, but fortunately most of the fat rests right on the top of the rack.  It's a time consuming step, and when you're done you'll look like a surgeon at a M*A*S*H unit, but you'll be amazed at how much fat you'll pull off.  Your heart will thank you.

5.  After trimming the lamb, spread about 1 tsp of Dijon mustard on each rack.

6.  Generously coat each rack of lamb with the shallot-bread crumb mixture.  Actually, you'll have a lot of this stuff and you sort of wind up packing it on top of, and all around, the lamb.

7.  Roast in an oven pre-heated to 400 degrees for about 25-30 minutes for medium rare.

8.  Serve with roasted fingerling potatoes and a seasonal green vegetable.  Pair with a nice Syrah or Shiraz.  Marvel that someone would pass on this meal.  Their loss.

Saving Salad

Ho-hum.  

Let's face it.  Salads are boring.  You take a ubiquitous head of lettuce and toss it with chopped vegetables and pour some bottled dressing all over it.  If you are like me, the inside door of your refrigerator is littered with half-used bottles of prepared dressing like tombstones in some forgotten graveyard.  Each one marks a failed  attempt to add some mojo to what is essentially a flavorless pile of produce.   No one in my family but me eats salad, and I do it so that I can justify eating something good.  My teen-age daughter refuses to eat salad "until there's a free and united Ireland."  She's in this boycott for the long haul.  No more.

I've found the solution to ho-hum salad.  Bacon. Notice I didn't say "bacon bits."  "Bacon bits'" are freeze-dried artificially flavored pellets of I don't know what, but never ever put anything on your food that looks like rabbit droppings.   To really transform something as boring as the typical salad, you need bring out the cast iron fry pan, put down a slab of fatty meat, and sizzle it crisp.   Add some caramelized onion and place it hot on a bed of arugula or spinach.   Nod in silent recognition that if you add bacon to Brussels sprouts,your family might even eat those too.

 

Warm Arugula Salad

1.  Fry one pound of sliced bacon.  Fry it long enough so that's its crisp enough to crumble.

2.  Peel, half, quarter, and and quarter again 4 medium sized red onions.

3.  Saute the onions in about 2 Tbs of the bacon fat until they are slightly brown and caramelized.  Add about 1 tsp of fresh thyme, and salt and pepper to taste.  Add the crumbled bacon and set aside until ready to serve.

4.  In a separate bowl, lightly toss baby arugula or spinach in a dressing of 2 parts olive oil and one part balsamic vinegar.  Realize that this simple dressing is the only salad dressing that you will really ever need, and start throwing away everything in the refrigerator featuring the words "Hidden Valley" or sporting Paul Newman's face.

5.  Place the greens on individual serving plates.

6.  Add about a large handful of pine nuts to the bacon/onion mixture and re-fry on medium heat until the pine nuts start to turn golden brown.

7.  Place a large dollop of the bacon/onion/pine nut mixture on each bed of greens.  Serve immediately.

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