DISH Sprouting Up
with Maribeth Maloney
Would the cute, green vegetable skulking in the back of the room please stand up? Yes, you there, the mini-me cabbage head guy - I'd like to introduce you. People, let's give a big hello to the Brussels sprout. That's right, BRUSSELS sprout. Not Brussels' sprout and certainly not Brussel's sprout. The latter would require altering longstanding food vernacular. Imagine: "Buffalo's wings," "Chicago's-style pizza," "Boston's baked beans" and "Philly's cheesesteak." What's next, "French's fries" and "English's muffins?" The latter would require changing the name of the capital of Belgium to "Brussel," a move sure to make the Flemish furious.

With that out of the way, People, I implore you to tell me why so many of you regard this little fella with such disdain. I suspect it's rote abhorrence, but that doesn't work. Only fruitcake has earned the right to knee-jerk hatred. Maybe you've been limited to experiencing him boiled to within an inch of his life, but I'm here to suggest that all you've been lacking is a good B.S. artist. Prepared the right way, there's nothing not to love.

Known botanically as Brassica oleracea bullata gemmifera, Brussels sprouts are a cruciferous vegetable, along with kale, arugula, watercress, collard greens, bok choy and those closest to the sprout, broccoli and, of course, cabbage. Brussels sprouts are believed to have originated in Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan, were known to the ancient Chinese, and made their debut in Europe in the late 16th century. And yes, they were named for the city outside of which they were first cultivated. They grow in bunches of 20 to 40 on the stem of a plant that stands from two to three feet tall and are available year round but aficionados regard them as at their best in autumn, after they've been exposed to some frost.

If you're not innately wired to love Brussels sprouts, allow me to give you some motivation to start a romance. Just a single one-cup serving contains 20 percent of the recommended daily requirement of dietary fiber, 25 percent of the Vitamin A, and more than double the suggested amounts of Vitamins C and K. If you're in the family way, that same one cup serving will provide 93.6 critical milligrams of folic acid, essential for proper cell division and the prevention of neural tube defects. As if all that isn't enough to set your heart aflutter, it's the cancer fighting powers of the Brussels sprout that make it the little green giant that it is. What's the key? In a word, sulfur. I encourage you not to judge the sprout by his smell.

Recent research shows that when cruciferous vegetables are digested, a sulfur-containing compound called "sinigrin" is brought into contact with the enzyme "myrosinase," resulting in the release of highly-reactive breakdown compounds called "isothiocynates." These compounds are not only potent carcinogen detoxifiers, but serve to trigger "apoptosis," the technical term for tumor cell suicide.

The cruciferous clan members also contain "sulforaphane," a powerful glucosinolate phytonutrient that alters gene expression and clears carcinogenic substances more rapidly. As few as four servings a week can stop the proliferation of breast cancer cells (including those in advanced stages), reduce the risk of prostate and colon cancers by over 44 percent and drop the risk of lung cancer by 69 percent.

What's that you say - you'd appreciate the benefits but wonder why can't you just get your fix from an arugula salad or a bok choy stirfry? Glad you asked. Certainly, eating any of the crossed ones on a regular basis is better than none at all. However, the fact is that Brussels sprouts are the true warrior among the ninja pack, with a stunning two to three times the amount of glucosinolates than that of the others.

Still griping? Okay, I concede that what you put in your mouth is all about what pleases your palate. But the tasty news in recent years is that they've become the darling of chefs, sprouting up on the chicest of restaurant menus, roasted, sautéed, creamed and souffléed. It wasn't an easy road though. Perhaps the most manic relationship known between man and vegetable has been the highly charged soap operetta between the British and the Brussels sprout.

Although the United Kingdom produces 99 percent of the world's sprouts, they were generally loathed, dragged out only for stoic appearances at Christmas dinners. In 2001, the British travel agency, Thomas Cook, highlighted the emotion by running an ad with a photograph of a mushy bowlful of sprouts, the caption suggesting that they alone were reason to get out of the country and take a vacation. Making matters worse, a 2002 survey named them as England's most detested vegetable. All of this caused the British Sprout Growers Association to lose its crumpets, even resorting to blaming the Belgians. The head of the Association claimed that Brussels, the headquarters of the European Commission, represented bureaucracy and corruption in the minds of Brits, the negative psychopolitical sentiments being the root of the sprout's problem. In a preposterously Benny Hill-esque move, a campaign was launched in support of changing the name to the "British sprout." That ultimately had about as much staying power as the "Freedom fry."

Along to the rescue in 2004 came converging occurrences tantamount to a much-needed fashion makeover: the sales-boosting availability of Brussels sprouts "on the vine" and a UK-TV food series called "Sexing Up the Sprout." Clearly there's nothing that can't be helped out by a little sex appeal, and such was the reaction to sprout ice cream, sprout smoothies, sprout curry and the madcap "Sproutini," with deep frozen sprouts standing in as ice cubes. By 2005 the sprout's days as the kid with zits were over, with it now hailed as the fifth most popular vegetable in the country.

So what about those Belgians - do they even eat them or has their connection been nothing more than a draining ruse?

Indeed they do. So says my expat friend, Yves. But because they never fell from grace with the residents of their namesake, the "choux de Bruxelles" dishes of Yves' youth are the same ones still prepared and loved in homes and brasseries today, Viagrafree and without flourish. Enduring favorites include rustic tarts of Brussels sprouts, bacon and cheese and hearty mounds of mashed potatoes with sprouts and nutmeg called "Stoemp."

Yves became so moved on the topic of his beloved "spruitjes" (Flemish for "sprouts") that he insisted on tracking down and e-mailing me the recipe for "Gantese Hochepot," a signature dish at the top restaurant in Brussels, the Michelin Three Star "Comme Chez Soi." Although I could hardly wait to see it, my hopes of sharing it with you people were not only instantly dashed, but I had to avert my eyes from the computer screen to fight repulsion. The first three ingredients in the list of 45 or so were ox bone, pigs' feet and calves' livers. Call me presumptuous, but I just didn't think you'd have an ox bone lying around, or the six hours it takes to cook the beastly dish.

Having managed to finally straddle the not-so-fine line between old standby and sexy redux, the Brussels sprout has come into its own. That's reason enough, Mr. Sprout, for you to stop with the skulking. You may now take your seat. Sit up straight.

I

ROASTED BRUSSELS SPROUTS

WITH BALSAMIC & BACON Unleash the B.S. artist within-
+ 2 tablespoons olive oil
+ 1 1/2 pounds Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved lengthwise
+ 6 ounces slab bacon, diced into half-inch chunks
+ Salt and freshly-ground black pepper
+ 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
+ 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
+ 1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves, chopped
+ 2 tablespoons grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. In a sauté pan, fry bacon to medium crispness; remove and set aside. Brush a large roasting pan with 1 tablespoon olive oil. In a large bowl, toss sprouts with 1 tablespoon olive oil, season with salt and pepper and spread into roasting pan in a single layer; roast (tossing once) until sprouts are tender and browned, about 20 minutes. Remove pan from oven and add garlic, bacon, balsamic, thyme and combine. Return to oven and roast 5 more minutes. Transfer to serving bowl and sprinkle with Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Serves 4 as a side dish.