Brussels Sprouts--Two Ways

BEST OF THE TASTY CHEAPSKATE



Sorry, universe, but I can't write about cookies all the time. (Don't worry, next week we'll be writing about cake.) 'Tis the season for cool season vegetables (even if southern Indiana hasn't figured out the whole 'cool season' thing yet).

Because of that, it's time to tackle the most unfairly hated of all vegetables: the Brussels Sprout.

I think we're going to have to blame either '50s pop culture or '50s housewifery or both for this hatred. Apparently, back in the day, people used to boil the unfortunate little vegetables, which is really the only way NOT to prepare these guys. Sauteed, baked, or even raw, they're pretty delicious, but boil them up and you get soggy, bitter greens. No thank you.

Below, you'll find two of my favorite recipes for making Brussels Sprouts. They are amazing--like fancy restaurant good. They're easy. They're seasonal. They are not your 1950s Brussels Sprout.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic Aioli. Warm, creamy. Better than any appetizer ever.

Brussels Sprouts with Cranberries, Pecans, and Goat Cheese. Perfect for November, or any time.

They're not half bad on their own either. You can eat them raw in any cole slaw style food. Or stir-fried with a bit of oil and salt and pepper.

Cauliflower Mash

Have you ever read a recipe and just started to crave it from the ingredients list? Recently, that happened to me. And I know just what you're thinking: Wait, why is this post labeled "Cauliflower Mash" because, seriously, has she gone daft? (Um, yes, well a little. But I've been that way for a long time.) Because who seriously reads the ingredients of something called Cauliflower Mash, as in the mash of cauliflowers; and then craves it?

Well, I mean, hear me out. Cheese. Let's start with that one. It's easy to love right. And olive oil. Garlic. Hard to go too wrong with minced garlic, right?

And then it had these wholesome, interesting-sounding things like white beans and cornmeal. They kind of intrigued me.

And the truth is that I've had cauliflower in a variety of delicious ways and always like it. But the other truth is that I've had versions of this on my Pinterest board for, oh, well, forever. Because, as per our discussion. Cauliflower. Mash.

I wasn't sure how it would really go over with the minions (and P.S., it didn't). But it was so gloriously delicious that even after making it, I'm still craving. It just hit a savory, nutritious spot that just met a need. Like, a wholesome friend, who's also really fun.

Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't let this sit on your Pinterest board for millennia. Make it. Love it. Serve it with meat if you must.

Cauliflower Mash
adapted from Pinch of Yum
Serves 4-6
Prep and cook time: 15-20 minutes
Cost: $3.20 (that's $.50 for something a 40-year-old woman could totally eat for lunch. Teenagers and men cannot be accounted for in this reckoning and this will likely be a mere side dish to them. But us old ladies--this is all we need for a filling, well-rounded meal)
cauliflower: 1.50, milk: .15, chicken broth: .30, cornmeal: .10, cheese: .40, white beans: .60, other stuff: .15

1 Tbsp olive oil
1 head cauliflower, cut into florets
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 C milk
2 C chicken broth (you might need another if your mash is too thick; I added about 1/2 C more)
1/2 C cornmeal
1/2 C shredded cheese (I used sharp cheddar and I did not regret it)
1 14-oz can white beans, drained and rinsed (optional)
1 tsp salt (or to taste)

Heat the olive oil in a skillet with a lid or a 3-quart pot. Add the cauliflower. Mix it and sprinkle it with salt. Let it cook for a few minutes. It won't get tender, but will get a little flavor.

Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds. Add the milk and chicken broth. Simmer (with lid on, so a low temperature is best) until the cauliflower is soft. When it is, mash it up.

Then add the cornmeal and stir. It will thicken, and the cornmeal is not exactly tastable, but kind of there, adding yumminess and nuttiness and thickness. If you need to, add more chicken broth.

Now, if you want, you can add that can of beans. (Note: In the original recipe, they told me to mash the beans. I did the first time I made this, but didn't love the mashed beans. Better to just leave them whole so you don't get a weird bean skin thing happening in you mash.) They add protein and make this a lovely complete meal on its own. (Though this is also really good with meat; we had it with shrimp and it was amazing.)

Add the cheese, mix it up, and let it melt. Add more salt and pepper if needed.

PRINTABLE RECIPE

Vegetable Lo Mein

So yesterday was Pi Day, the most wonderful, delightful fake holiday ever. And I made the most wonderful, delightful not-fake strawberry pie that I was dying to share with you. Except that when I cut into it after a very long day, the part that was supposed to have set up oozed all over the pan and the plate and everything. Oh, it was still delicious. But it wasn't quite pie. More like oozy strawberry tart (no complaints there, I guess). But I think I know the one thing that will fix it and I'm going to try it this spring and make another pie that hopefully will not ooze so I can post it to this blog. 

And I realize that Vegetable Lo Mein is kind of a sad consolation prize for !Strawberry Pie!  But don't be too too sad because (in theory) you have to eat something before your strawberry pie. And (I'm assuming) that after making pie you don't want that thing to be hard or stressful to make. Enter Vegetable Lo Mein. It's a 20 minute meal that's pretty and filling and mostly healthy. It's also a great way to use up leftovers or old vegetables (I personally used up two lonely salmon fillets and some wrinkly peppers and was pretty proud of myself). 

Vegetable Lo Mein
Serves 4
Prep and cook time: 20-30 minutes
Cost: $4.00
noodles: 1.00, vegetables: 2.00, meat: 1.00

1 lb spaghetti
2-3 C vegetables (whatever ones you want and have on hand. I used 1 onion, 3 carrots, sliced thin, 1 pepper. I wish I'd had some zucchini and mushrooms and broccoli--they would have been amazing)
2 T olive oil
2 cloves garlic
2 T butter
2 Tbsp soy sauce
2 tsp sugar
1 Tbsp Teriyaki sauce
1/2 tsp ginger powder
salt to taste
sriracha to taste
meat if desired (we used 2 salmon fillets; any meat would go great.

Prepare pasta according to package instructions.

While it's cooking, slice your veggies, then put olive oil in a saucepan and add vegetables. Saute with salt.

If you're cooking meat, saute it along with the veggies.

When the veggies are cooked, add the chopped garlic. Saute another 30 seconds. Add soy sauce, sugar, Teriyaki sauce, ginger, and butter. Stir to combine.

Drain your spaghetti and add the noodles, stirring to coat.

Serve.

PRINTABLE RECIPE

Secret Recipe Club: Breakfast Salad

Time for Secret Recipe Club. This month I had Terri with Our Good Life as my blog. It was a lot of fun. Terri is a retired principal. My kids start school this week, so this seemed like the perfect time to peruse her blog (she even has some teacher appreciation gifts on her blog if you're interested).

I clicked on this recipe because my Japanese sister-in-law is always eating things like vegetables for breakfast and it always seems like such a lovely, healthy idea. But then when breakfast comes I'm like, "Pass the starch please." So, yes, I clicked on the recipe with good intentions. I stayed on the recipe, however, because it was similar in mood to this amazing lunch I've been making all summer with avocado, egg, and toast. I figured if I could eat a version of that meal for breakfast, then that my life would be pretty much perfect. And it is.

This simple meal is satisfying on so many levels. It's beautiful, colorful, with the right balance of salt and acid. It's hearty yet healthful; protein-rich, with good fats and vitamins. It's not expensive either (though it looks like it should be).

Breakfast Salad
adapted from Our Good Life
Serves: 2
Prep and cook time: 5-10 minutes
Cost: $2.55
avocados: $2.00, eggs: .20, cilantro: .15, lemon: .20

Note: I didn't really measure because I'm evil like that. It still turned out great. I think that I used a bit less cilantro and a bit less salt than called for. Also, I was completely lazy in making the dressing for this and basically just tossed everything in and it was good. The moral of the story being that this recipe is good enough to be lazy with. Sounds like a winner to me.

2 medium, ripe avocados
2 eggs
1/2 C chopped, fresh cilantro
1 small clove garlic (I omitted because I didn't have any and didn't think powder would be the same, but it would have been amazing with it; that said, if you need to spare your breath for kissing or something, it was also amazing without)
1 tsp sea salt
1 medium lemon, juiced (you're just going to use the juice)
dash of red pepper flakes

Dice the avocado. Then throw in the chopped cilantro and chopped garlic. Add salt and lemon juice, and red pepper flakes. Note: In the original recipes she mashed the cilantro, garlic and salt with a pestle and mortar then combined with olive oil. I seriously just tossed it all in and it was fantastic.

Now cook up your egg. Terri poached hers, but I just cooked mine over easy. Note: While I'm being truthful about how completely lazy I am and how this recipe still came out gloriously, let me say that I started cooking the egg while preparing the other ingredients. I'd intended to have it with just a bit of a runny yoke, but got it cooked till it was firm. It was still amazing with the other ingredients. I'm craving it as I type.

Enjoy!

PRINTABLE RECIPE

An InLinkz Link-up

Alphabet Soup with Tomatoes and Baby Chard

Classic kid food with a sophisticated twist. Or maybe I should say classic grown up food with a child-like twist. Because, you know, I've mentioned that my kids are picky. So if I just served brothy soup with carrots, onions, zucchini, tomatoes, and baby greens, I'd pretty much be eating that 1/2 gallon of soup by myself. But, miraculously, adding tiny pastas in the shape of letters had a somewhat magical effect. Everyone ate it (although Emma had to be coaxed a bit). Everyone didn't quite eat every bite (several children pulled out carrots or greens or whatever offending food they could see), but they still ate their bowl of soup and without complaint, commenting all the while how this was just like Martha (as in the dog in "Martha Speaks"). And, in fact, we ended up having a dinner-table conversation about literary terms such as simile, metaphor, alliteration, and onomatopoeia (which, ironically, is the furthest thing from the "vocal imitation of the sound associated with it" that I can think of), but anyway, it appears that Martha was on to something in eating all that alphabet soup.

It was a lovely dinner. Now, if you haven't eaten alphabet soup except out of a can (like, cough, me until recently), then you're in for a very nice surprise. It's not just blah salty soup with hundred year old alphabet noodles. It's a delicious veggie soup with extra fun thrown in. The broth is chickeny, yet also tomato/Italian-y, and a tiny bit sweet. It's light, but still worthy to be called a meal. And the noodles are cooked in and thus flavored by that broth, so they're great too. We ate it vegetarian, but some chicken or sausage would have rocked too. Also, if you've got fresh basil, that would be amazing.

Alphabet Soup with Tomatoes and Baby Chard
adapted from Give Me Some Oven
makes 6-10 servings
Prep and cook time: 30 minutes
Cost: $3.75
onion: .15, carrots: .40, zucchini: .30, chicken broth: .50 (more if you buy the canned, but I use homemade or the bullion cubes), tomatoes: 1.00, pasta: 1.50, greens: .40

Note: I found my letter pasta at (weirdly) the Asian food store and bought it on a whim. Then it sat in my pantry for months until this idea for a recipe came along. I assume (hope) it'd be with the pasta in a normal store. If you can't find it, orzo will work too.

Another note: This seems way too brothy at first, but as the pasta cooks it thickens. In fact, it thickens quite a bit--sometimes too much. Today for leftovers, it was very thick. I threw in a few glugs of tomato juice (or V8) to loosen it up and that was yummy. (This was added to the pictures above making the broth a little more red than yours will come out if you don't use V8.) So if you find you need it, use some tomato juice or a bit more broth.

2 Tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 C diced carrots (I chopped mine quite small so my children would sometimes accidentally eat them instead of picking them all out)
1/2 C grated zucchini (celery would also work)
3 cloves garlic
6 C veggie or chicken broth (I used chicken)
1 can (14-oz) diced tomatoes (I used fire roasted and I think Italian would kick butt, but any will do)
1 1/2 C alphabet pasta (orzo will also work, but you know, then your dogs won't start talking when they eat the leftovers)
few pinches oregano
few pinches rosemary
fresh basil (optional)
salt and pepper to taste (I didn't need any, but it depends on your broth)
3-4 C (loosely packed) baby chard (or spinach or baby beet greens)

Heat olive oil in a large pot. Add chopped onion and cook for about five minutes. Add carrots and zucchini and cook for another 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook for another minute.

Then add broth and diced tomatoes. Cook for a minute or so. Add alphabet pasta and seasonings.

Cook (simmer) for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally until your alphabet pasta is nearly done. Then, 2 minutes before serving, add the chard and cook until wilted.

Serve.

PRINTABLE RECIPE

Five Great Recipes for Ugly Vegetables

It's that time of year again. Time for the ugly vegetables to start showing up--the ears of corn with kernels on only half a cob, the misshapen cracked, tomatoes, the yellowing cucumbers.

Truth be told, I've been dealing in ugly vegetables all summer long (if I've been lucky enough to deal in vegetables at all). This year the raccoons got our corn and the squirrels have taken nearly all my tomatoes. It's enough to make you cry. (Like, really--when you have a huge garden and all you've gotten is some green beans, a couple eggplant, cucumbers, and a few pounds of potatoes--oh, and lots and lots of weeds--it really it's something I shed tears over. So much work. So many weeds. So little anything else.) So we've brought in a few green tomatoes to ripen and relied on awesome friends to take pity on us and bring us some of their bounty.

Below are a few of my favorite recipes for rescuing and resescitating your ugly vegetables. I should warn you that not all of the actual dishes made from your ugly vegetables are super pretty either. But all of them taste awesome.

1. Ratatouille--Tomatoes, zucchini, pepper, eggplant, plus salt, herbs, and olive oil. Quick, ugly, good.

2. Vegetable Spread--Odds and ends into the oven to roast, then pureed. You'll be surprised how awesome this is.

3. Quick Pickles--You know when you get cucumbered out and they start hanging from the vines all fat and yellowing. This is what you should make. It extends their life by several weeks and these are great plain or on sandwiches or with salads.

4. Roast Tomato Sauce--I love this with my soul. The end.

5: Tomato Cucumber Salad--This can be made plain or creamy with a little mayo. It can even be made with just tomato or cucumber if you've only got one on hand. I know that kind of sounds weird, but it's a great way to add a little something to the veggies that are starting to feel (and look) blah.

Preparing Vegetables for Quick Use All Week Long

Yesterday I did a book review for Tamar Adler's book, An Everlasting Meal.

One of the chapters is titled, "Striding Ahead" and in it she describes how she roasts a whole booty load of vegetables in one afternoon and then uses those vegetables for the rest of the week. As with a couple of Adler's suggestions, I was a bit skeptical. I wasn't so sure how I'd feel about Monday's roasted vegetables come Friday. Furthermore, Adler goes all out, roasting several pans of various seasonal vegetables, sauteeing the greens from the tops of any vegetables containing greens (turnips, beets, etc.), and then saving the "ends" (peels, skins, cores, etc.) to make vegetable stock or a vegetable puree at the end. She claims that these roasted veggies can then be used in unconventional salads or as toppings for sandwiches or mixed into rice or cooked into omlettes or added to broth and pureed into soup. A little preparation should make a whole week worth of 15 minutes meals.

I went at it a little less enthusiastically. I had a fading head of cauliflower and a partial head of broccoli and a morning of cleaning. I figured I could clean and roast at the same time. And I did.

How to Roast a Vegetable:
-Cut them into even-ish pieces
-Coat them in olive oil, salt, and pepper.
-Lay them in a single layer on a roasting pan/cookie sheet (preferably with some space between each vegetable).
-Roast at 400-425 degrees, flipping them over when the bottoms are browned and then roasting till the other side is browned.

I admit that I like to get my roasted vegetables nice and roasty. I like the broccoli to be very dark brown at the edges and the tree tops. I like my cauliflower with some distinct color. So, don't fear the brown. It is your friend.

Let me take a moment here to make a Vegetable Lover's Deep Dark Confession. I don't really like broccoli. I like cauliflower in most forms--raw, boiled, steamed, or roasted. But broccoli I have never really loved. However, when I got married, broccoli was one of the very few vegetables Kip enjoyed and so all these years I have prepared and eaten it too. However, I must have it mixed into things--rice or a casserole or a soup. Just plain broccoli staring at me from my plate, it almost makes me gag to eat it. Yes, I said it. Me. The woman who has spent the last year and a half giving jabs to my husband and son for their extreme pickiness, I nearly gag on plain steamed broccoli with or without butter and salt.

That said, I will admit that this year I discovered roasted broccoli. And that--that I could eat--straight off the pan in a great big pile. Oh yes, I could. I ate a whole bunch of it the day I roasted that partial head of it. I knew that would be pretty good. But then I took a small leap of faith and I put the rest in the refrigerator to await my lunch and snack needs for the week. I really wasn't so sure I'd be loving my cold roasted vegetables, but Adler promised they would be delicious turned into salads or egg dishes or whatever else my imagination could conjure. I'm a big fan of leaps of faith because they often take me somewhere wonderful. This was no exception. Boy howdy were they ever good. I added a bit of mayo and sometimes a squeeze of lemon to make them into the topping for open-faced sandwiches. I made them hot and cold (meaning sometimes I nuked the roasted vegetables before adding to my sandwiches and sometimes I didn't). Both were incredibly good--intensely flavorful still from the roasting, and there and waiting for me every day when I got home from errands or whatever tired, grumpy, and really hungry. I ate them plain out of the jars. If I'd had more, I could have made all kinds of other things. For just little old me, those nearly two heads of vegetable lasted only 4 days. Not bad. Not bad at all. I began to see how preparing vegetables ahead could really bring forth a lot of good, cheap, super fast meals. I also saw how much more likely I was to actually eat a vegetable that had been pre-prepared. There was no way I would have eaten that broccoli had it remained as it was just sitting there in the crisper drawer.


 Adler stores her roasted vegetables in glass mason jars so that she can tell what she has at a glance--separate jars for each vegetable so they keep their own flavors. It's a pretty good idea when you're "striding ahead" because otherwise you may well wind up with a lot of sketchy science fair projects. Since one of the main ideas of pre-prepared vegetables is to not waste that lovely lump of cauliflower, it's important to put them in your fridge in a way that they won't be forgotten after all. If you don't have glass containers, I recommend labeling them. I'm a pretty good labeler. And a pretty good rememberer. And a pretty good go-through-the-fridge-once-a-week-and-see-what's-in-there-er. But if you're not, use some glass (or even clear plastic) containers. I used old glass peanut butter jars and they worked great (as would old jam jars or artichoke jars or applesauce jars or just whatever). So you get to recycle and actually see what's in your refrigerator. Win win.

Which was the outcome of my striding ahead experiment. I didn't waste my vegetables. They made a week of delicious, really quick lunches. And it made me feel more confident about buying a large amount of fresh vegetables on sale and putting them to good use. 

Vegetable Latkes (Pancakes, Patties, whatever you want to call them): A Template

Interestingly, many cultures around the world have a tradition of finely chopping or mushing up food and then throwing it into a bit of hot oil to cook. These can be bean based, meat based, vegetable based or grain based: falafals, salmon patties, latkes, pancakes. I admit that I like them all. Because of this I'd like to offer more of a template than a recipe. And you know, it occurs to me that this might be the perfect sort of thing for Leftover Tuesday. At any rate, it's the perfect sort of thing if you've got some leftover vegetables, meats, beans that you don't know what to do with.

Vegetable Latkes: A Template
Makes about 8 patties
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cook time: 20 minutes
Cost: $1.40
(potatoes: .50, other vegetables: .50-1.00, egg: .10, flour: .05)

1 lb potatoes
1 lb other vegetables (zucchini, squash, carrots, eggplant, sweet potato--just about any firm-ish vegetable will do)
1 egg
1/2 C flour (again you can use whatever type floats your boat. I used all-purpose, but you could use matzo or corn or other types as well)
a splash of lemon juice
salt and pepper (of course other seasonings can go nicely too. I'm thinking about dill and parsley right now, but--again--the sky's the limit)

Grate the vegetables. (I used a food processor.) Let them sit for a few minutes and then press or squeeze excess water out of them. Doing so makes for a crispier, tastier end product. To squeeze, you can press them into a colander or wrap them in a dish towel and ring them out to get the water out.

Once they've been squeezed, add the egg, flour, lemon, and seasonings and mix together.

Heat a thin layer of oil in a heavy duty (I used cast iron) skillet until the oil shimmers. Drop spoonfuls of veggie mixture into the pan and press down with your spoon. You want it to be fairly flat so that it cooks evenly and the vegetables in the middle of your patty don't come out underdone. Allow to cook for several minutes until the underside is deep golden and then flip and repeat. If the underside is cooking too quickly, turn down the heat. You don't want the middle all raw, unless raw potatoes are your thing. They're not mine.

You can serve however you wish. I like them with a plain yogurt or sour cream based dip. Last night I used sour cream and added a bit of lemon juice and dill. I've heard lime and curry is good too. Kip likes them with ketchup (wow, what a surprise) and I bet if I'd pulled out the Ranch he wouldn't have complained about that either. My point is that they're pretty darn good dipped in a variety of things so go ahead, be creative, and follow your gut.

PRINTABLE RECIPE

How to Cook and Eat an Artichoke

What does one do when in a cooking funk? One hopes that artichokes are on sale and then one eats one for lunch.

I'd never had an artichoke until I got married. Oh, sure, I'd had artichoke hearts before--the ones that come out of a can and, truth be told, are pretty awesome even so. But I'd never had a bonifide, spiny-tipped actual artichoke. And then Kip's sister--my mentor in all things vegetable--introduced me to them. When we all lived in CA, she'd buy them from Trader Joe's (and probably still does) and we'd have us an artichoke party. Of course by 'we' I mean she and I. Kip hates artichokes. Or so he says. Or so he thinks. I'm not entirely sure he's ever actually tasted a fresh one, although I know he's coming around to the canned variety (Kip tends to embrace canned goods first; I don't know; it's a sickness.)

Artichokes are wonderful for many reasons. I was going to write a sonnet, but then I didn't. Here are my reasons anyway.

1. They taste good. Really good.
2. When you're eating one you bought fresh, you've got to eat it slowly. It's like the lobster of the vegetable kingdom. You've got to get rid of, or ignore, the tough outer parts so that you can enjoy the rich interior, preferably with butter or mayonnaise.
3. They're low calorie (unless eaten with mayo like I like them best)
4. They have an almost sweet aftertaste. It is the type of flavor all foods will leave in our mouths when we eat in heaven. And now, a story: When I was pregnant (and, no, I'm not pregnant right now), but when I was I hated eating. Oh, I hated it. I had to do it or I'd get sick, but nothing ever sounded good to me and everything left this horrible aftertaste in my mouth that I loathed (chocolate--my beloved chocolate; it was the worst of all). Everything, that is, except artichokes. Artichokes would leave this sweet touch of something on my tongue that just made me want to go around sucking on my mouth for an hour afterwards. When I was pregnant artichokes were the one food I looked forward to and would have eaten constantly if budgetary restrictions had not existed. Truly, it's rather a miracle (and perhaps a bit of husbandly firmness) that one of my children didn't end up named artichoke.

So, yes, I love artichokes and will be loyal to them my whole life long. Unfortunately, they're not exactly cheap (especially for the measly 55 calories they provide). So you want to be able to get the most out of them and to know how to navigate this food of the gods.

To Choose:

Pick one that doesn't look like it's been sitting at your grocery store for 7 years. It should be firm and the tighter the leaves, the better.

To Prepare: 

1. Cut off the bottom of the stalk. Some people cut off the tips of all the leaves as well, but I am WAAAAY too lazy for that.

(Here I cut off a few leaf tips to demonstrate what I mean.)

2. Steam the artichoke. You can do this by using a steaming basket in your pan, or by cooking the artichoke in just a bit of water and leaving the lid on the pan. However, if you go with this second method, be sure that your water doesn't all boil out and burn your artichoke.
3. The artichoke will take a while to steam. It'll take 30-45 minutes depending on its size. Don't worry, it's worth it and you don't have to do anything for it while it steams.
4. It's ready when you can easily pierce the part of the stalk closest to the base with a fork. You can also check it by pulling out one or two of the top leaves. They should dislodge fairly easily.

To eat:

1. I like mine dipped in mayonnaise. I just do. It's the most awesome thing in the world and I'm not going to apologize for it. Some people like to dip them in butter and some people probably just use salt and pepper or something low-cal like that, but I'm really not in that camp.
2. Start at the base of the artichoke and pull off a leaf. You're not going to eat the whole leaf. You will regret it if you do. You're going to dip the base part (the part that was attached to the artichoke) in your mayo/butter if you wish, and then you're going to scrape off any tender artichoke flesh from the interior part of the leaf with your bottom teeth. Don't gnaw at it or try to eat more than your teeth easily remove. With the outer leaves you won't get much--just a bit of tender artichoke flesh on your teeth.

(Okay, so maybe this is too much, but if you click on this picture, you can see how little has been scraped off by my teeth. That's how you do it. )

As a note, some artichokes have a pointy tip for the leaf. Be sure not to put this tip in your mouth because ouch.
3. As you move up and into the center of the artichoke, your teeth will be able to scrape off more and more of the tender flesh. It's actually a really fun way to eat and, like I said earlier, it takes some time, which feels a little indulgent. As you get to the inner leaves, they'll get smaller and more tender. Eventually you'll be able to bite off the bottom bit of the leaf.
4. Eventually all the leaves will be removed and you'll get to a slightly intimidating part of the artichoke that I like to call the hair.

This is the part that Kip cannot handle about artichokes. But don't freak out. Just take a spoon and scoop out the hair, which is attached by follicle-like things. I realize I'm not really selling this to you (yeah, I'm kind of making a purse look like a sow's ear), but I swear it's not a big deal. Just scoop it out.

Get it all. I'm not sure if the hair is edible or not, but I'm pretty sure that to eat it would be about as pleasurable as a barefoot romp in stinging nettle.
5. Once the hair is removed, you've hit the lovely heart of the artichoke.

Maybe this doesn't look like much with my photography skills, but it's after you eat one, you'll always look at them fondly. 

You may compose a sonnet if you wish. And then dip the heart edge by edge in the butter/mayo and bite it off.

It's so good. I'm still sitting here sucking my sweet-after-tasted mouth.
6. Some people eat the stalk. I don't. Mostly because after the heart it seems so stringy and less good. But you could if you wanted to.

This is what you've got left when all is said and done. I told you it was a lot like lobster. 

Sauteed Asparagus: A Story and a Tip

Asparagus, that vegetable sentinel of spring, is on. This means that it should start showing up in sales across the country. It means I went out to the garden today to find this:

And it means that if you'd like to enjoy it, you ought to learn how to cook it. Because even on sale, it isn't the cheapest thing in the universe. And even in your garden, it's a years long commitment, not a lettuce-y spring fling.

I personally had never ever had asparagus until my marriage. Kip married a woman who'd never once eaten asparagus, fresh artichokes, or avocados in non-guacamole form. This was fine with him because he'd grown up with a family who loved those things when he hated them. And then, in a brutal twist of marital fate, Kip's sister introduced me to each and every one of those foods and I came to love them all, almost to the point of obsession (as in I have an asparagus patch out back). Poor Kip. Let's shed a tear for the man. Okay, we're done. Now on to asparagal tips.

Asparagal Tip:

The bottom bit of the asparagus tends to taste woody and ought to be removed. You can guess where the woodiness begins and just chop it off. But the best way it to find the lowest spot where the asparagus easily breaks off and break it. If your asparagus isn't super fresh (as mine apparently wasn't), you'll end up taking off a good bit of the bottom.

I know that can be stressful, especially if you're cheap, but if you don't remove it, you'll end up chewing on this woody, fibrous part for approximately 27 minutes and that's no fun.

Once the woody part is gone, I like to break it into bite-sized pieces before I cook it (though you don't have to).

There are lots of great ways to eat asparagus. If you don't have a lot of experience with it, here are a few ideas:
-With pasta. It's especially good with alfredo or any cream, oil, or egg coated pasta dish.
-On pizza (oh, it's so good)
-In salad--blanch or steam it so it's still crispy and then chop it in.
-With rice
-In casserole
-In pretty much any recipe in which you'd use broccoli

But do you know how I like them best? The same way I first had them when Shelle taught me how to cook them. Sauteed in butter with a little salt and pepper.

1. Melt a pat of butter in a skillet.
2. Throw in your asparagus (after you've removed that woody part).
3. Let it cook so that it's bright green and still crisp, but has a bit of color (brown) on the edges or even on one side.
4. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
5. Become a zealot. Annoy your husband.