Cauliflower Deserves Some R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food has some strong opinions about his vegetables. (Hint: Don't get him started on the subject of rapini, raab or rabe. Seriously.) He also has some deliciously transcendent, and incredibly simple, ideas for making them shine. Take this suggestion for the much-abused cauliflower, for instance.

Chopped Cauliflower

Most cauliflower recipes begin with "break the cauliflower into florets." Sometimes they even tell you to discard the core and leaves. Ignore those instructions. The green leaves and thick core are perfectly edible and make up as much as one third of a head of cauliflower. Just chop them finely, then chop the rest the cauliflower, too. It's the key to making this Brassica delicious.

Unless I'm making a salad with cauliflower, I always chop it. (I'll try to keep the florets intact if I've got a head of romanesco, but I'll still chop up the rest.) After cutting out and chopping the core and leaves, I set the head on the cutting board, cut straight down to make two or three slices about a half inch thick, then cut those a bit more. The florets break apart, so you really just need to cut the stems. I keep slicing around the edges, then cut up the center pieces which have more of the core attached. The result is a pile of different sized pieces and even some cauliflower crumbs; use it all.

Sometimes I'll spread the pieces out on a sheet pan, drizzle with extra virgin, sprinkle on some good salt, and roast it until the edges are nearly burnt (350° for about 45 minutes, stirring once or twice). This might be the best way to eat cauliflower—and be forewarned that one head is barely enough for two people.

But chopped cauliflower cooked in olive oil in a skillet is faster and offers more opportunities to add flavor. Use a big skillet, cast iron if you've got it, and plenty of extra virgin. Cook the cauliflower over medium high with a good pinch of salt until it starts to brown, maybe 10 minutes. Add a few cloves of chopped garlic, grind in a little black pepper, cook for another minute, and eat.

Along with the garlic sometimes I add some chopped, toasted almonds and a sprinkling of grated Parmigiano Reggiano. Or a few tablespoons of chopped pickled peppers (like Mama Lil's) instead of the nuts and cheese. Just a splash of one of the Katz Orleans method vinegars makes even the plainest cauliflower sing. For a more complex dish, cook some chopped onion, celery and bell pepper—Paul Prudhomme's Louisiana trinity—with the cauliflower, add some bacon, tasso, or andouille, and when the vegetables are softened add a can of diced tomatoes for smothered cauliflower.

Cauliflower deserves better than being reduced to a pot of soggy, steamed florets. Eat the whole damned thing.

Creamy Goodness

There's nothing much more satisfying than a piping hot bowl of soup and a warm slice of fresh bread on a cold winter night. And that's just what I was in the mood for last night as the temperature outside plunged below freezing and I added another layer of clothing to my ensemble.

Not to go off topic, but when my brother gave me an immersion blender for Christmas many years ago, I thought, "Oh, great…another kitchen tool that's going to molder on a back shelf for years until it gets sent off with all the other junk we don't need."

I couldn't have been more wrong, since it's become my go-to appliance for all manner of puréed sauces and soups. Which is where we rejoin the theme established in the first paragraph. (Ha!) Noticing that I had leeks, potatoes and cauliflower all ready to be put to use, I decided to attempt a decadently comforting concoction, something kind of like a smooth chowder.

Roasting the cauliflower didn't add much more effort or time to the process, since it roasted in about the time it took to get the other ingredients prepped and simmering. Then it was just a matter of getting the creaminess I was looking for, which came when I added the sour cream (Tofutti sour cream, in our case, due to Dave's lactose issue). With the aforementioned warm loaf of bread and a green salad with vinaigrette to complement the comfort, we were some happy winter denizens!

Creamy Potato, Leek and Roasted Cauliflower Soup

1 medium head cauliflower, cored and divided into small florets
4 Tbsp. olive oil, divided
1/4 tsp. salt
1 medium onion, chopped fine
2 cloves garlic, chopped fine
2 leeks (white and light green parts only), halved lengthwise and sliced crosswise into 1/2"pieces
2 medium russet potatoes, peeled or unpeeled, cut in 1/2" cubes
1/4 tsp. dried thyme
8 c. chicken stock
1/2 c. sour cream, optional
1/4 tsp. white pepper
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 375°.

Place cauliflower florets in large bowl and add 2 tablespoons olive oil and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Stir to combine. Put in Pyrex baking dish in single layer and place in oven. Roast for 40 minutes or until fork easily pierces thickest parts.

While cauliflower is roasting, heat remaining 2 tablespoons of oil over medium heat in soup pot or Dutch oven. Add onion and garlic and sauté till tender. Add leeks and sauté till wilted. Add potatoes and sauté for about 10 minutes, then add thyme and stir to combine. Add chicken stock and bring to a simmer. When cauliflower is tender, add to pot and simmer another 20 minutes or so. Add sour cream, if desired, and white pepper. Using immersion blender, purée until smooth, then adjust salt to taste. Serve immediately or keep warm on the stove on lowest setting, stirring frequently to prevent scorching.

Don't Call It Vegan

There's something about the term "vegan" that really rubs people the wrong way. It has a certain holier-than-thou tone to it, as if all other foods, the ones most of us eat, have been declared unclean.

Even worse, the foods deemed worthy of consumption have a reputation for being dull and flavorless. Think tofu, brown rice or rutabagas. Then there are the foods that try to mimic cheese or bacon or turkey and fall pathetically short. Which makes the vegetarian diets of yore look positively lush by comparison.

But you don't have to take a lemons-into-lemonade, turn-that-frown-upside-down attitude to switch your thinking around to what you can have instead of what you can't. Think of the intense flavors we love: heat, spice, sweet. All perfectly fit a vegan diet. Then there are the fats: olive oil, sesame oil and nuts spring to mind. And the great flavors of legumes, fresh greens, squash, garlic, mushrooms. Makes you think, right?

So when I saw the following recipe in John Ash's book From the Earth to the Table,it looked like a tasty new pasta recipe using pesto, cauliflower, pasta and beans. Not some wacky vegan food-like substance. Try it sometime when you're craving a flavor-packed, hearty dinner. You'll be surprised when you don't feel like you've done without.

Pasta with Roasted Cauliflower and Parsley Pesto
Adapted from John Ash's From the Earth to the Table

For the pesto:
4 c. packed fresh parsley leaves
4-5 cloves garlic, fresh or roasted
2 Tbsp. pine nuts, fresh or toasted
Zest of 1 lemon, grated
1/2 c. olive oil
Salt to taste

For the pasta:
1 med. cauliflower
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 lb. rigatoni, penne or other pasta
3/4 c. kalamata olives
1 c. cannellini, borlotti or other beans, cooked
Mint sprigs for garnish

Put parsley, garlic and pine nuts in bowl of food processor. While processing, drizzle in olive oil until smooth. Empty processor into medium-sized bowl and add rest of ingredients. Combine.

Preheat oven to 350°. Break cauliflower into 1" pieces and place in large mixing bowl. Drizzle with olive oil and stir to coat. Empty into 9" by 12" roasting pan and place in oven for 30-40 minutes until nicely browned.

While cauliflower is roasting, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. When cauliflower is almost done, put pasta on to cook until just al dente. Drain and put in large serving bowl, adding pesto, roasted cauliflower, olives and beans. Mix. Serve garnished with chopped mint leaves.

* You can also add 1/4 c. parmesan to the pesto, and served grated parmesan at the table for sprinkling.