Sweetly Savoring Brussels

I truly adore chocolate. And every time I taste it I am brought right back to one of the best places I have indulged myself. Enveloped in the old world Belgian capital of Brussels. A city of contrast and history that diplomatically negotiates with itself over competing Dutch and French roots. Some say Brussels is the smaller cousin to Paris. Sort of its “mini-me” to the French.

Brussels (Bruxelles in French) is home to the European Union, the remarkable La Grande-Place (a UNESCO World Heritage site), and the no less intriguing and very amusing Manneken Pis...one of the world's earliest well known "small men". He pre-dated another famous smaller French gentleman by about 600 years (Napoleon). Small, but aggressive, Napoleon was a bold contender in a small package. He was permantently exiled after his loss at the Battle of Waterloo in Belgium.

Brussels is an elegant, reserved and understated younger sister to Paris. No less welcoming than the Gaulic capital, she is coy about her petite figure, regardless of her oversized affect on the world.

Belgium is known, and has been over centuries, for chocolate. While major strides have been made in the United States to better appreciate and understand this gourmet extragavance, it is the adherence of old world manufacturing techniques, made in small batches, that delivers such gastronomic delight.

Delicate. Complex. Warm. And very lively. Truly an adult taste. I might be describing a confection from Leonidas. Or a singularly monumental taste of Neuhaus. Or perhaps the quirky Belgian love of french fries and mayonaisse.

But I am not. I am describing Brussels Sprouts.

Cultivated in what is now Belgium since the 13th century, this vegetable is grown in cooler climates from autumn to spring. If you can buy them on the stock they will stay fresh for several days. Cooking the sprouts too long brings upon a bitter taste. A bit like the "Napoleon of Cabbage" (they hail from the same family roots), brussels sprouts are loaded with excellent sources of vitamin A, C and dietary fiber. An alter ego that is laughably small, yet a culinary force that must be paid attention to. Cooked correctly they are delicious and there is no need to exile them from your kitchen.

The word "vegetable" comes from the old French root “vegetābilis” and latin stem “vegetare” which means “to enliven”. A previous trip to Belgium gave us the opportunity to stay at the boutique Brussels Welcome Hotel. Upon entry of the modest exterior the place immediately transformed us from old to new, and back, with a lively display of rooms set in exotic themes from around the world. Strolling through the ancient and reserved capital, a player by design or circumstance in many of the empires over the last 10 centuries, I thought of the the clever English poet Andrew Marvel who authored “To his Coy Mistress” and wrote:

“Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide…
…My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.”

My vegetative soul has shown me that brussels sprouts, unlike gourmet chocolate, do not take themselves seriously. They’ve been around much too long to worry about their place in the world. Reserved and understated. Yet bold and enlivening when they need to be. A pleasantly coy alternative with a deceptively delicious story to tell.

Recipe for Brussels Sprouts
with Dijon Mustard Thyme Butter

Serves 4

Ingredients

1 lb brussels sprouts, halved with outer leaves removed

1/4 lb (one stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 T Dijon mustard

1 shallot finely chopped

1 clove garlic, minced

1 T fresh thyme leaves, chopped

salt and pepper

Method

Bring a 3 quart sauce pan of water to a boil. When boiling, add salt and then brussels sprouts. Cook for 7 to 8 minutes at a low boil.

While the brussels sprouts are cooking, make the butter by combining all the ingredients in a small bowl.

Drain the brussels sprouts and then add back into the warm saucepan. Add the mustard thyme butter, coating the sprouts well. Season with salt and cracked black pepper and serve.

This recipe was adopted from Deborah Madison's "Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone".

Can't we move on?...Chipotle Chocolate Creme Brulee

It's official. This week I am naming the chipotle as the single most overused foodstuff of the decade. No small feat in knocking creme brulee off of its 1990's "rode hard and put away wet" mantle. There is an obsession in this country with discovering a new ingredient and overusing it. We are in full gear with the decidedly curious chipotle and there is no let up in sight.

Not that long ago too many restaurants offered Creme Brulee on the dessert menu. It was as if those chefs not serving it were lacking somehow. Or felt some misguided need to do whatever "the herd" was doing. I appreciated the effort to opening up our country's eyes to something new and different, but after awhile, it got to be a little much. Not that I didn't love creme brulee, I did (and still do). There are so many qualities that make it appealing to eat. Its smooth texture has decidedly luxurious aspect to it. Sort of an adult vanilla pudding sans Bill Cosby with a pleasant mouth feel (he was Jell-O's spokesman for you younger readers). So, a waiter might say something like "and tonight we are featuring Creme Brulee - two spoons to share?" And we would order it like lemmings over the cliff. It became time to break off this relationship, like the "ex" we would go back to time and again but for no good reason other than convenience.

Well, we did. The mysterious Mr. Chipotle showed up and distracted us from of our unhealthy relationship with Ms. Brulee. It was easy. Love at first sight really. Complex. Mysterious. Spicy. Romantic. It felt like "Gone with the Wind" on a tortilla with a squeeze of lime. Chipotles are everywhere now.

I was first introduced to dried and smoked chiles on a business trip to the charming colonial Mexican city of Guadalajara in 1995. A chance lunch of Pork Adobado in a restaurant on the way to a meeting introduced me to the use of smoked chiles in cuisines from both Mexico and the Philippines. Adobado typically refers to some type of smoked or dried chile (ancho, poblano, etc...) that is preserved in vinegar. It is then cooked with a meat for a slightly spicy, typically rustic dish. For whatever reason, what I ordered came with chipotles, which are traditionally made from dried Jalapeno peppers. The smokiness of this altered pepper is deep and revealing. A real flavor booster that delivers a complex taste and transforms everyday preparations of beef, pork, chicken and even fish.

Having traveled throughout Latin American I have come to love the varied cuisines of these unique regions. And as a resident of San Diego, CA I eat Mexican food regularly. Don't get me wrong, I like chipotles. A few days ago I bought a couple of cans of chipotles at a local market for absolutely no reason. I started to think about how we are now living in such an evolving food culture and how this evolution of chipotles showing up everywhere was unthinkable not that long ago. Back in 1999 you couldn't buy a chipotle except in a Latin American food market. Today googling the term "chipotle" returns 4.5 million results. Creme brulee doesn't get even half of that kind of attention from a search engine.

We definitely have moved on from our sultry ex, Ms. Brulee. However, this love of the Chipotle is pointing toward a relationship attachment problem in our society. Too much of a good thing? While I wish it were the case, I think our problem is worse than that and we might need to bring in Dr. Phil. We can't stand to be alone, can we? It's time to get real.

Chipotle burgers. Chipotle Pancakes. Chipotle Mayonnaise. "The Herd" is definitely back. I hit my limit this week when I visited the Food Network site by chance and the #1 recipe was for the talented chef Bobby Flay's "Grilled Chicken Wings with Spicy Chipotle Sauce". That did it. Creme Brulee. Chipotles. Isn't it enough already...or is it?

And then I did the unthinkable. I got these two old flames together. You know what I mean. When you start to tire of a love interest, you think of a previous one, remembering only the good parts. In this instance, bringing together creme brulee and chipotles may be the only case where this is a good idea. I have asked our dear friend Chocolate to tag along. Try this recipe, and tell me what you think. Enjoy this sultry, smoky, smooth and sexy dessert with an enormous glass of Zinfandel, Malbec, or a Cabernet Franc from the up and coming wine regions of Mexico. It'll be just like old times...with a new twist.

Recipe for Chocolate Chipotle Creme Brulee
Serves 8*

Ingredients

2 Chipotle chiles split in half with excess adobo sauce removed

2 cups whipping cream + 1 cup for topping (see note below)

2 cups half and half

4 ounces bittersweet chocolate (70%, such as Valrona), coarsely chopped

4 ounces semisweet chocolate, finely coarsely chopped

8 large egg yolks

1/3 cup sugar

Method

Preheat oven to 300°F. Combine cream and half and half in heavy large saucepan with the split chipotles and seeds. Bring to a boil mixing occasionally and pressing chipotles to the side of the pan to extra the flavor. Reduce heat to low.

Strain the mixture, pressing the chipotle solids to extra additional flavor. Pour the hot mixture from the saucepan through a strainer over the chipotle, into medium bowl and then back into the saucepan 2-3 times. Strain one final time back into the saucepan and discard solids.

Boil water in a tea kettle while you complete the next step.

Add chocolate and whisk until melted and smooth. Remove from heat. Whisk yolks and 1/3 cup sugar in large bowl to blend. Gradually whisk in hot chocolate mixture to yolks starting with a small amount of hot liquid and whisk quickly. Strain the liquid and egg mixture a final time.

Pour equal amounts of custard among eight 3/4-cup custard cups. Place cups in large baking pan. Add enough hot water to pan to come halfway up sides of cups. Bake until custards are set, about 50 minutes. Remove from water; chill 2 hours. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

(Note: a traditional creme brulee calls for a burnt sugar crust to complete the dessert by adding 1 TBSP of sugar over the top of the brulee and either placing it under your oven broiler for 1 to 2 minutes or using a hand torch to caramelize the sugar. While that makes perfect sense for a traditional brulee, I don't believe it works as well here. Rather, I like a dollop of freshly whipped cream with a small amount of sugar or vanilla to lightly sweeten it. You will want something clean to cut the intense flavor and richness of the chocolate and chile and this does it.

* Recipe can be cut in half for four servings.