A Thanksgiving Vegetable Success Story, with Leftovers

The turkey carcass has been thoroughly picked clean, the tupperware container drained of its gravy, and the pie plate emptied of all but a few pumpkin-scented bits of crust. The time has come to rouse myself from the slumber of leftovers, strap on my apron, and cook something.

If the coming and going of Thansgiving has affected your cupboard as it has mine, you probably have some bits and pieces of holiday ingredients lying around. A bit of rummaging turned up an extra bag of cranberries, a slimy box of pre-cut mushrooms, some croutons, an unopened bottle of karo syrup. Not much in the way of dinner inspiration. But then, with a bit more rummaging, I discovered several nearly empty bags of nuts: walnuts that didn't make it into the cranberry sauce, pecans that didn't make it into the pies, and a handful of chestnuts that my dad bought at the local grocery in a bout of nostalgia for the chestnut trees we left behind in West Virginia over 15 years ago. There was also a pound of brussels sprouts.

And brussels sprouts call for a bit of a digression.


There are certain vegetables that, to my mind, suffer an undeserved amount of prejudice. Whether you know of a vegetable that has been profiled as foul tasting or whether you yourself are a hater of a particular leafy green thing, I think you know the phenomenon of which I speak. A certain ilk of green vegetables have been...disenfranchised: cabbage, broccoli (when not smothered with a mask of melted cheddar), peas, and spinach (and well before the e coli scare). Brussels sprouts, God bless the them, have had it the worst. They have, in recent years, been defamed as England's most hated vegetable. According to some food popularity meters, they are making a comeback, but I've yet to see evidence of their regular appearance on family tables in the English speaking world.

And, it is not their fault. Brussels sprouts have been relentlessly steamed and boiled into bitter little army fatigue-colored balls from which generations of innocent children have recoiled with a shudder and a gag. And these youngsters have grown up, as any psychiatrist might have predicted, to be (a) brussels sprouts haters themselves--perpetuators of the crimes of their parents, or (b) overly protective of their children, determined to break the abusive cycle by banning the traumatic greens from their homes. These cycles must be broken.

Full declosure: I was spared abuse in the form of brussels sprouts as a child. Perhaps my parents were the (b) overly protective type when it came to sprouts. Perhaps brussels sprouts didn't reguarly make their way into rural West Virginia. I did have to face chicken livers, and I swallowed whole with gulps of milk my fair share of peas in order to have my nightly request of liberation granted: "May I please be excused from the table?" I discovered brussels sprouts baggage-free a few years ago when cookbook writers were already beginning to sing their neglected praises. And now I'm trying to slip them onto the plates of my parents and sisters.

Which brings me back to Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving holds a special place in the hearts and stomachs of my family members. We like to gather. We like to drink. And we really like to eat. In past years, the holiday went like this: Mom makes the turkey, the stuffing, the gravy, and the rolls; my sisters make the pies, my brother makes the mashed potatoes, my dad pours the Beaujolais, and I, well...I cook a vegetable. Nothing on the Thanksgiving menu ever changes...except my vegetable. I've tried a reinterpretation of dried-onion-topped green beans and various forgettable vegetable casseroles. One year there was something with cinnamon, sage, and squash. Each Thanksgiving, my vegetable dish gets politely eaten; and later, I take home most of it, reluctantly pick at it for a few days, and throw it away.

Well, this was the year of the brussels sprouts. I knew it was risky. But what, really, did I have to lose? I was pretty sure I would be hitting the cookbooks for vegetable recipes when next November rolled around. I had bought an obscene amount of brussels sprouts, suffering as I do from an impairment in vegetable poundage estimation. In a moment of doubt about their favorable reception, I stuffed about half of them back into the refrigerator, and cooked the other half. Then a Thanksgiving miracle occurred: before my very eyes, my vegetable dish started to disappear. And then it was almost gone. What little there was leftover had vanished within 24 hours. Eventually, my family headed back down to North Carolina leaving me with the pound or so of hastily reserved, raw brussels sprouts in the fridge.

Which brings me back to leftovers.

As I cobbled together my leftover nuts, I recalled the taste of my first Thanksgiving vegetable success, and savored the fact that it tasted like brussels sprouts. The roasted nuts and maple syrup bring out the sweetness in this vegetable. The crunch of the nuts provides a nice textural contrast. Don't fear excessively browning the sprouts...the crispier you can get their outer leaves, the yummier. It was brussels sprouts de ja vu all over again, but this time with a hodge-podge of nuts. Though not prejudiced myself, I was a bit surprised to find myself scooting them out of the way to get to the sprouts.

Thanksgiving Leftovers Mixed Nut Brussels Sprouts
Serves 4 brussels sprouts lovers. In smaller portions, may convert brussels sprouts haters.


some combination of raw, shelled nuts to equal about 1 1/2 cups
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pound brussels sprouts, trimmed and cut in half lengthwise
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
2-3 grinds black pepper from pepper mill

1. Toast nuts: Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Spread nuts on cookie sheet in a single layer. Toast in oven until fragrant, about 10 minutes. Make sure they don't scorch...this can happen very quickly. (If you're using unshelled chestnuts as I did, cut an X on each one with a sharp knife and toast them separately for about 25 minutes.) Cover them with a kitchen towel until they're cool enough to handle, and then peel away the shell and the inner fuzzy layer. Chop nuts into smaller pieces, if you want.

2. Heat butter and oil in a large, heavy skillet (cast iron is good here) over medium-high heat. Add brussels sprouts, cut sides down, in a single layer. Salt and pepper them, and cook the little green gems without stirring until they are nice and browned on the bottom, 8-10 minutes. Give the pan a shake and cook a few minutes longer until the sprouts have browned to your preferred hue.

3. Add maple syrup and nuts. Stir to combine. Serve 'em up.



I served these (leftover) sprouts with Sweet Potato Fritters.
Here is the recipe, adapted from Every Day Food, November 2006.

1 pound sweet potatoes, peeled
5 scallions, finely chopped
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
coarse salt and ground pepper
3/4 cup vegetable oil
sour cream for serving, if you like

1. Coarsely grate sweet potatoes on the large holes of a box grater into a large bowl. Stir in scallions, eggs, flour, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper.

2. Scoop out 1/4 cup of potato mixture with a measuring cup, shape with hands into a call; transfer to a baking sheet and flatten with palm into a 3/4 inch disk. Repeat with remaining potato mixture.

3. In a large skillet, heat oil over medium heat until hot. Using a spatula with a thin blade, transfer as many cakes as will fit comfortably to skillet. Flatten slightly with spatula. Cook until golden brown, 4-5 minutes per side. Transfer fritters to a plate lined with paper towels and sprinkle with coarse salt. Repeat with remaining fritters. Serve with sour cream.