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That probably sounds delusional, but no, it's true. I come into my own when I'm a little tipsy in the kitchen. When I'm tipsy, I prepare potatoes, fish, chicken, brussel sprouts, whatever I'm working on, with elan - not to mention salt, pepper, olive oil, garlic, olive oil, pepper, and lately, maple syrup. I don't get hung up on exact recipes and measurements. I throw everything together with a generous hand and then bake it, saute it, roast it, buy it from Safeway, whatever. It gives me a warm glow in my stomach and heart.
To be fair, though, that could be the bourbon.
My latest adventure while tipsy? Brussels sprouts. Yes, those. The ones we hated as kids and tried to hide beneath napkins. Brussels sprouts are hip now. They are like the stars of one of those ugly duckling movies, where they show up to prom dressed up in bacon and maple syrup, and everyone is blown away by how amazing they taste . . . er, look.
We want to cook healthy meals because we're supposed to do so, right? If we're parents now, if we are supposed to be grown ups, this is what we do. We cook Brussels sprouts.
It would be easy enough to just steam them. I have a fancy vegetable steamer that I conned some friends into selling me cheaply by tricking them into emigrating for a while. That would be simple, conservative, safe. But no, I wanted some flair. I remembered reading about Brussels sprouts and maple syrup, and a quick conversation with Siri - my latest toy is an iPhone 6 - gave me the idea of what to do.
Brussels sprouts are actually easy to prepare. You remove the outer layers, the ones that might be dirty or tough, and with a good knife slicing off the tough base of the sprout, the layers practically fall off with a touch. I halved them, quartered some of the larger ones, and threw them in a frying pan with olive oil, then scattered pepper and salt across them. After five of the six recommended minutes, I carefully poured a tablespoon full of maple syrup into the pan.
It sizzled, and the kitchen filled with the smoky, ethereal, sugary scent of evaporating maple syrup, a scent that would creep into the pores of the sprouts. It reminded me of how I picture the angel's share of whiskey distillation. It's not a technically accurate comparison, but it works poetically. There is a similar warmth and smokiness in whiskey and in maple syrup.
(Actually, I think I have a good idea for a chain of restaurants, open late: Waffles N' Whiskey. I should think about trademarking that, but I probably won't.)
Chaotic or not, my technique proved effective. The Brussels sprouts were delicious, fried, slightly browned, and with a hint of flavor. The first time I tried this, it was with roasted potatoes and canned soup, and I think it turned out quite well:
The lesson, I suppose, is that when in doubt, add alcohol. Or maple syrup. Or both.
