Lil’ Sprouts Don’t Like These Sprouts
“Well, Timmy,” says mom, “there are people starving in India who would love to have these for dinner. So chow down or else.” “But Mooooommmm! Why can’t we just ship them to Calcutta? Then someone could enjoy them.” “Timmy, just do as your mom says,” Dad responds as he shovels in a forkful of Brussels sprouts slathered in mayo. So you take a couple of bites, doing your duty, and hoping the fried chicken and mashed potatoes disguise the taste. Twenty years or so later, something remarkable has occurred. Not only do you enjoy Brussels sprouts, you look forward to having them once or twice a month, especially with bacon roasted in. (Let’s face it, everything tastes better with bacon—the crack of the meat world.) Over time, you have learned the benefits of the sprouts and alluring taste (for many of us). These mini 58
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cabbages have become quite the addition to our tables, and people enjoy them all over the U.S. Production of Brussels sprouts in the United States began in the 18th century, when French settlers brought them to Louisiana. The first plantings in California's Central Coast began in the 1920s, with significant production beginning in the 1940s. Currently, several thousand acres are planted in coastal areas of San Mateo, Santa Cruz, and Monterey counties of California, which offer an ideal combination of coastal fog and cool temperatures year-round. The harvest season lasts from June through January. Most U.S. production is in California, with a smaller percentage of the crop grown in Skagit Valley, Washington, where cool springs, mild summers, and rich soil abound, and to a lesser degree, on Long Island, New York. Total U.S. production is around 32,000 tons, with a value of $27 million. Brussels sprouts are insanely nutritious as well. A 3.5 oz portion provides a dose of 169% of vitamin K and 102% of vitamin C. They contain all the B vitamins and have a decent amount of iron, manganese, phosphorus, and potassium. You can steam them or roast them in the oven with onions, garlic, salt, pepper, and the aforementioned bacon. If you haven’t tried them since you were a kid, give them a shot.
WRITTEN BY TIM MILHORN
We’ve all been there—sitting at the dinner table dreading that one vegetable we cannot stand, yet are forced to eat under penalty of punishment. And our seven year old self hates everything about them. They smell like the septic tank backed up. They look like something a small pony left out in the pasture. They taste—good Lord, can anyone even begin to describe the horribleterrible-disgusting-overwhelming flavor of these things? As soon as you fork a small slice into your mouth, your gullet rises in your throat. Why do parents do this to us!?
