Weird Tasty Pasta Dish (and Formatting!)

I know Brussels Sprouts aren’t everyone’s thing, but I like them. I especially like them roasted. So it made sense as I was attempting to figure out how to fulfill my craving to turn them into a pasta dish- another one of those things I like so much I forget that not everyone is willing to eat it three or four nights a week.

Pasta with Brussels Sprouts:

• 1 16oz bag frozen Brussels Sprouts (yes, I buy frozen veggies. You know what I like about frozen veggies? They don’t go bad in my fridge if I forget about them for a couple weeks. Is the flavor and texture exactly the same? No. But most of the time it’s still damned tasty)
• 1 teaspoon minced garlic (I pre-mince my garlic and store that frozen as well)
• 1 Tablespoon butter (I used unsalted, because that’s what I keep around for baking)
• 1 generous pinch rosemary
• 1 scant shake thyme
• 1 handful breadcrumbs
• Enough oil to liberally coat the bottom of my cast iron skillet
• Two people’s worth of spaghetti (because that’s what I have on-hand. Linguini would be better. I think bow-tie pasta would be perfect*)
• Salt and pepper

I always feel weird writing how I do this, because it’s so utterly winging it. I wasn’t sure I was making a pasta dish when I started, or what was going to go into it. But I started by cutting the frozen Sprouts into pieces. I halved all of them, and cut the biggest ones into fourths. Even the itty bitty ones. The reason is that then all the inside leaves get all coated in oil and crisped, too. By making them all roughly I knew they’d cook in roughly the same amount of time.

While I was doing that, the butter went into the cast iron on a hot stove. I left it there to sizzle and pop until it stopped, so that it would clarify and not smoke when I roasted the Brussels Sprouts in the oven (did I mention I turned the oven to 400 degrees?). Once it was ready, I added oil to the pan to generously coat the bottom, gave it a minute to heat up, and dumped the Brussels Sprouts in. Salted and peppered, added garlic, rosemary, and thyme, and put it in the oven.

Once that was in, I started a large pot of water, heavily salted it, and turned the heat to high. The pasta would go in once the water reached boiling. I aimed for just tender. Different pastas take different amounts of time, so

Every ten minutes or so, I checked on the Brussels Sprouts stirring them with a big metal spoon to ensure even browning. It took about half an hour.

With both cooked, I took the cast iron skillet with the Brussels sprouts out of the oven and tossed in the handful of breadcrumbs. I gave it a stir, then dumped the pasta in and poured a smidge of olive oil on it. Gave another toss, then divided between two bowls.

I grated parmesan over each bowl. There are schools of thought that not all pasta dishes should be doused in cheese. I don’t ascribe to them. I firmly believe in the power of cheese to strengthen just about any dish. I have yet to hear complaints from anyone eating my food ;)

Ways to improve this dish:

1. Nuts- I would add them about 2/3 of the way through the roasting process, so they don’t burn. I’d imagine just about anything chopped up would do (chop whole nuts in the food processor, by hand takes forever and is messy)
2. Bacon or Prosciutto- both pork products, so left out of the equation with my pescetarian boyfriend. I’d say, skip the butter and cook the meat on the stovetop first, then remove but don’t drain the pan. Chop and sprinkle back in with the breadcrumbs at the end. You could chop it before cooking and cook in the oven, but the pork sticks something fierce.
3. A cheese sauce- Not sure how I’d do this. Probably make it on the stovetop while the Brussels Sprouts cooked, then poured it over everything at the end. Would be lots of work, though.

Tonight: black bean soup and fried polenta! (the things I made when I'm not willing to go out in the cold to the store)


* While all semolina pasta may taste the same, different shapes have different textures and food-complimenting properties. Thin noodles are good for light sauces, seafood, and small pieces of stuff. Thicker noodles are good for thicker sauces. Shapes are useful for gripping things, and for pasta with lots of big, oddly sized stuff in it. Ziti with grooves is actually the ideal for red meat sauce, regardless of tradition. Bow-tie I think would work for this because you can pierce it with a fork easily and get a good pasta to Brussels sprouts ratio.

The Intersection of Opposing Ideals

At a recent holiday party, I got into a discussion about food and cooking with some of my friends, both swapping delicious recipes and just generally the joys and difficulties of day to day cooking. One couple I am friends with recently moved, and they both work from home. So they find themselves having to find new ways to organize cooking, as previously the man in the relationship did very little of it. However, being home more, and enjoying cooking himself, they are working together more in the kitchen.

I said that it’s always more fun when you have both people working together, but that Mr. Bo is not so much fond of cooking, and therefore I do all the cooking and he does all the washing up.

They were surprised. Knowing that I’m a feminist, and that I strive for equality, and that I am in many ways a tomboy (I <3 tools), they were taken aback by the fact that I let things fall into the stereotype. And to be honest, it was something I struggled with as well for a while. Eventually, though, I had to give up. And here’s why:

I really, really like to cook.

Cooking brings me the wonderous, tasty, life-giving food, yes. But it’s also a form of therapy for me. Nothing cures a long day or just a grouchy mood like taking a few extra minutes to do something special with my food. As long as the problem is not “I am so hungry I can’t think straight” (in which case Mr. Bo kindly brings me snackage) preparing food actually does wonders for my mental health.

No so for Mr. Bo. Which is not to say that he does not like to cook, but it is a thing that has to happen to provide the tasty things for eating. Surprisingly, there are things that he is incredibly good at, such as making rice or thickening cream sauces, which I a horrible at and therefore always get him called into the kitchen. And I often call him in just to chat and keep me company. But cooking doesn’t feed his soul the way it does mine.

Which is not to say that I didn’t struggle with this arrangement when it formed. Initially, I didn’t really think about it. I come home and I relax for a little bit, and then what I want to do with my evening is usually fix dinner. And it’s just as easy to cook for two as one. And when Mr. Bo went pescetarian I took it as an opportunity to try a lot of new and different recipes. But over time it began to feel stifling, and like a chore. As though I was falling into the trap of the dutiful woman who does all the cooking and cleaning while the man brings home the paycheck and then gets to lounge around (or do repair and yard work). Which is a false dichotomy, both because it’s not an equal distribution of tasks and because we as a society tend to view those “masculine” jobs as being more important. It’s assumed that there will be dinner on the table each night, and the floors will be cleaned and the surfaces dusted, etc. But it’s praiseworthy that the yard get mowed or the gutters cleaned or the broken thing fixed.

Also, it’s a false dichotomy because the only reason most women don’t know how to do these things is because they haven’t been taught. It’s not hard to hammer a nail or refinish a piece of furniture, and I built my new dresser (well, assembled, but it was an “all assembly required” kind of assemble). I did this because my parents made sure that my brothers and I all knew how to change a flat tire, hammer a nail straight, fix ourselves dinner, and sew a button back on.

But to get back on topic, eventually the arrangement with dinner began to chafe. And we talked about it, and we tried different things, and what we found was that for the most part I really wanted to cook dinner. As long as it was understood that this was something I was doing because I enjoyed it and not because either he or I felt I was obligated to do it. And there are certainly nights where I am not in the mood, and Mr. Bo cooks, or we order in.

Still, occasionally, the inner radical feminist chafes at the system we’ve created. And while I understand the “Down With Patriarchy” sentiment, the reality is that when one lives with someone, one is required to compromise. I seriously doubt I would have a different setup were I living with a woman. When single, I would occasionally fix dinner for the whole apartment, or invite friends over for a large dinner, just so that I could feed a group of people. It is a driving need in me to cook, not just for myself but also others. I can attempt to rebel against this part of me in an attempt to live up to the Ideal Feminist in my head, but I’m left feeling incomplete. Or I can cook. And feel whole. And find other ways to satisfy my Feminist Ideal.

I may talk about those more some other time. I may not. First, I need to remember to post more than once a month.