Oh Brussels Sprout

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Whole, you are dead to me. Sure, you are a veg so I suppose you think that you are already dead, but you are that much deader to me should you arrive on my plate entier.

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My friend, we’ll call him “Josh,” tipped me off to the chopping of the sprout. It was a hot, little number that involved bacon-y bits and pine nuts. One bite and I enjoyed an old vegetable enemy with new vegetable potential.

You can treat a chopped Brussels sprout like any run-of-the-mill cabbage. But when you cook them, you MUST sing. Sing from the heart. The lyrics. The meaning. Your struggles. Other people’s struggles. Love. Quand On N’a [beat] Que L’amour.

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Veal Epaule
Fried egg on top
Brussels Sprout ditty that I call “Fanette” – onions, garlic, sprouts, pine nuts bubbled in duck fat.

Fats:
Lard
Duck fat
Butter

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