Cauliflower - for Lovers and Haters Alike

Cauliflower has many fans. Also many enemies.

"This is dinner? Is this some kind of cruel, sick joke?" asked a friend who saw my cookbook opened to a cauliflower curry. I had actually planned to substitute some less objectionable vegetables for the cauliflower in deference to his preferences. Hater!

My friend Thom is in the Cauliflower Lover camp. She writes,

Cauliflower is my favorite vegetable!  I like it steamed, roasted, saluted or mashed (but not so much raw.) It is high in potassium and fiber.  A whole entire head of cauliflower is only 150 calories and it will fill you up! 

When you buy the cauliflower, make sure there are no brown spots or black dots on them.  You want the florets to be tightly closed. It's they are loose, the cauliflower has likely been sitting on the shelves for a long time. 

When you cook cauliflower, break it into florets or cut it into smaller pieces, making  sure they are uniform size so they will cook evenly.  Don't throw the stems away! They add texture to the dish. Cut the stem into even smaller pieces, since the stem pieces take longer to cook.

For a simple and tasty recipe, I recommend roasting cauliflower in a pan on a single layer. Crowding the pan will make it harder for the cauliflower to caramelize.  For every 1 head of cauliflower, I would add 2-3 garlic cloves to it. Just smash it and throw them in with the florets.  Drizzle olive oil, salt and pepper for taste and mix well. Put the pan into a 375-400 degree oven for 30-35 minutes, and you are done! 

If you like to walk on the wild side, here are different variations:

a) Before roasting, sprinkle 1 teaspoon of turmeric powder to the fore and mix well. Very healthful!

b) After the cauliflower has been roasting for 20 - 25 minutes (about 10 minutes before it's done), remove the pan and sprinkle a thin layer of Parmesan cheese on the cauliflower. 

Yum! Look how caramelized and snackable these florets look.

For those whose only association with cauliflower is a boiled-to-the-point-of-waterloggged mess method, this recipe can be a revelation.

As a test, I recommended Thom's method to Lol to see if she would try it. Success! Lol said, "Amazingly tolerable! And I think it would even work with frozen cauliflower, since you're eliminating the whole waterlogged part."

One Hater converted, millions to go. Our work is just beginning.

Garden variety

"No, you're the one that doesn't understand!" The man walking near me at the Union Square Greenmarket was shouting into his phone. "I know I'm supposed to get an eggplant. But what kind? They have like 4 kinds! And 5 kinds of tomatoes! And 3 kinds of onions! What kind am I supposed to get?"

He had a point. This time of year even the bounty has bounty. And the variety within the items of produce is anything but garden-variety.

Cauliflower!

Beets!

Zucchini!

Cabbage!

Peppers!

Winter squash!

Potatoes!

Broccoli!

Carrots!

Radishes!

Tomatoes!

Beans!

Kohlrabi!

Eggplant!

Chard!

 

What the heck is that? Romanesco

When I've seen romanesco, typically at farmers' markets, it's often been displayed next to the lovely purple and peach colored cauliflower, so I’ve assumed that this groovy-looking vegetable is just another cauliflower variation. But the truth is more complicated.

But before we look into romanesco's DNA, let’s first focus for a moment on its appearance. Romanesco looks like it should inspire a thousand architectural acid trips.

Its color is a lovely lime green. Its shape has been described as "spires and minarets" and "a natural approximation of a fractal." Fractals are shapes or patterns that look basically the same over a wide range of scales. Think of snowflakes. Or think of romanesco, whose little spiral buds join together to make up a kind of giant spiral bud. Romanesco is the the subject of this article by John Walker, called, “Fractal Food: Self-Similarity on the Supermarket Shelf,” which notes,

Nearly exact self-similar fractal forms occur do in nature, but I'd never seen such a beautiful and perfect example until, sometime after moving to Switzerland, I came across a chou Romanesco in a grocery store. This is so visually stunning an object that on first encounter it's hard to imagine you're looking at a garden vegetable rather than an alien artefact created with molecular nanotechnology. But of course, then you realise that vegetables are created with molecular nanotechnology, albeit the product of earthly evolution, not extraterrestrial engineering.

My informal survey about the romanesco's appearance elicited these comparisons and comments: coral reef; space ship; "definitely some kind of stone," "a vegetable pagoda," and "Did Gaudi eat this when he was designing some of his buildings?" 

Back to romanesco's DNA. As Walker notes, in some countries romanesco is called "chou," or cabbage; elsewhere it's romanesco broccoli or romanesco cauliflower. Broccoli, cauliflower and other members of the brassica oleracea family have cross-bred for centuries; cavolo broccolo romanesco (as it is known in Italy) apparently dates back to the time of Julius Caesar.

Which side of the family does romanesco favor? Botanical testing says cauliflower is its closest kin.

My own taste test agrees. Romanesco has its own flavor, reminiscent of cauliflower but sweeter. It keeps its shape well when steamed - you could break it up into florets later - and would make a fine addition to a crudite platter. Sauteing with garlic and red pepper flakes or a squeeze of lemon, as you might with broccoli rabe, is another good option. 

Here it is steamed and coupled simply with some sriracha sauce; other good options would be a garlicky dip or something zesty-Mediterranean, with capers and olives.  They'll play nicely off the romanesco's sweet vegetable flavor, but there's no real competition for its striking looks.