More Maligned Vegetables: Brussels Sprout Hash

Although I seemingly derive great pleasure from discovering ways to make much maligned foods taste good, I never thought this would extend to brussels sprouts.  But a few weeks ago I had such an amazing brussels sprouts hash at Leon's, that I actually found myself wanting brussels sprouts again. Of course, the craving could have had something to do with the bacon, but really, I've never wanted a brussels sprout in my life.


As it turned out, I had a vegetarian friend in town the night I finally decided to take on the brussels sprouts, so I had to dispense with the bacon.  But the bacon-free recipe I found made me forget all about it, and I still loved the brussels sprouts.  They might actually make it into my shopping cart on a regular rotation! Or even my garden!  Even my friend was wowed:  "I've got to tell my parents, they will never believe I'm eating brussels sprouts [and liking them]" sums up her reaction to this recipe.   


I've thought a lot about this, and I think what makes this recipe (and the hash at Leon's) so good is that the brussels sprouts aren't whole.  I realize this sounds glaringly obvious, but perhaps my problem with brussels sprouts all along has simply been the preparation.  Thinly sliced, cooked in butter, and mixed with caramelized onions truly works wonders for this neglected vegetable.  So the question remains, why do we ever eat these things whole? 

Brussels Sprout Hash with Caramelized Shallots  
From Bon Appétit (Molly Stevens)
[From Hannah:  My notes and changes are noted next to several of the ingredients.]

Serves 8-10 

6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) butter, divided [I used 4 Tbsp and it was still great] 1/2 pound shallots, thinly sliced [I used two yellow onions instead of shallots since I decided to make this at the last minute and didn't have any shallots on hand] Coarse kosher salt 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar [I used sherry vinegar] 4 teaspoons sugar [I used the full amount but probably would use only 3 tsp next time] 1 1/2 pounds brussels sprouts, trimmed 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil [I used less, maybe 2 Tbsp] 1 cup water   Melt 3 tablespoons butter in medium skillet over medium heat. Add shallots; sprinkle with coarse kosher salt and pepper. Sauté until soft and golden, about 10 minutes. Add vinegar and sugar. Stir until brown and glazed, about 3 minutes. Halve brussels sprouts lengthwise. Cut lengthwise into thin (1/8-inch) slices. Heat oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add sprouts; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Sauté until brown at edges, 6 minutes. Add 1 cup water and 3 tablespoons butter. Sauté until most of water evaporates and sprouts are tender but still bright green, 3 minutes. Add shallots; season with salt and pepper.

Dining in Maine: Flipside, Brunswick, ME

Good news:  The pizza at the newly opened Flipside in Brunswick rocks.  In fact, it's so good that I anticipate craving several of the well-designed pie creations of Chef Bob Haggerty.

Bad news:  I live in Atlanta.  Therefore, the logistics of getting a slice are a bit complicated.

Until recently, we had few good pizza choices in Atlanta, and although we are getting closer with the addition of Antico, Vesuvius, and others to the dining scene, I still find myself missing 'real pizza', the kind of pizza I could get as a kid growing up in New England.  On the other hand, I enjoy the proliferation of 'designer' toppings and more innovative combinations.  Flipside perfectly masters this intersection of old and new with a traditional crust (although the sprinkling of sea salt is a nice touch) paired with unique, fresh, and local toppings, served at the stylishly restyled restaurant at 111 Maine Street in Brunswick.

I tried several of the pies yesterday at the opening event, and two have the potential to be late-night cravings:  the chorizo, and the bbq chicken.  The chorizo pizza works without much description:  chorizo, mushrooms, cheese.  What is most surprising about my love of the bbq chicken pizza is that, along with Hawaiian-style pizza, this combination is usually at the bottom of my list.  Flipside's is different, and better:  the smoked chicken is perfectly shredded (no weird chicken chunks), the ancho barbecue sauce is smoky and a bit spicy (and not too sweet), and the addition of bacon adds the perfect saltiness to the mix.  Topped with a blend of cheeses, this pizza works.

I should probably disclose that I know Bob personally, so I am not a completely unbiased reviewer.  That said, until now I've never found a slice of pizza worthy of writing about.  I wonder how long until Flipside on the Southside opens--I'll be waiting for it in the ATL.