On Sunrises + Roasted Brussels Sprouts

Thoughts on brassicas and a contemplation on the morning sky.

First, welcome to the new readers who joined the party after reading the Dad Advice we posted last week. Glad to have you on board — and feel free to say hi. I can’t promise such wisdom each week, but I can promise you a boatload of footnotes¹ and a recipe. Plus, my mom comments on almost every post — how many newsletters can say that??

I write on here a lot, closing the week’s post, encouraging you to get outside, maybe see the sunrise. I don’t just write that in isolation, burdening you with some platonic ideal of a life well-lived — I truly think being outside and seeing the sunrise is a terrific way to start your day².

Somewhat unintentionally, I’ve found myself having taken a photo of the sunrise every day this year³. I’m not saying this to brag about being an early riser — the sun rising well after 7AM in New England for most of January⁴ — but instead, because, looking back at my photos, I’m struck by how wildly different each sunrise can be, how strikingly the same each sunrise is. At the start of each new day, nothing has changed but everything has changed⁵.

Same sunrise, just twenty-four hours later.

Sam Sager

pointed out recently how, often, when reading old books, you see many of the same problems, ideas, solutions that are being discussed today. Like the sunrise, nothing is new, but to us, to those experiencing each day, today, everything is new. New possibilities, new challenges, new opportunities to seek good. Heraclitus mused that you never step in the same river twice; even if the river doesn’t change⁶, the person does. Each person who steps in the river, though, does it the same way⁷. Again, nothing changes but everything changes.

I’m reminded that, growing up, it was almost cliché that Brussels sprouts were disgusting: “eating your vegetables” was said punitively, with sprouts being the ultimate death sentence⁸ . That has changed — today, roasted Brussels sprouts are almost a given on the menu of most moderately classy restaurants⁹ . Brussels themselves are members of the brassica family¹⁰, which throughout history have been a staple in human diets¹¹ . They were cultivated, in fact, to be able to increase yield in small spaces, prioritizing the sprouts as opposed to the stalk, and able to grow close to the ground, staying warmer in colder climates. The people demanded more Brussels¹². Nothing has changed, really.

So, with this relative reemergence in mind, we’re making my favorite, and perhaps the simplest, version of Brussels: roasted.

Whip out your cast iron and accumulated bacon grease — we’re about to get sprouted.

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Set your oven to 425(F), and then in a medium cast iron pan, heat up some bacon fat¹³ until it has liquified. While that’s melting down, wash, trim¹⁴, and dump some Brussels sprouts into a bowl. Salt and pepper them¹⁵, shake some red pepper flakes and paprika if you have them, and then toss with the hot oil.

Heat up some more fat in the pan and drop in the Brussels, cooking on the stove top over high heat until just starting to brown. Remove from the heat and place the pan in the oven, roasting for 30-45 minutes until the Brussels are well browned and crispy on the exterior and soft and gooey on the interior.

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There you have it. Roasted Brussels sprouts. These work really well as a side dish for almost anything — we particularly love them with thick cut pork chops, or tossed into a salad with some other roasted vegetables. They are a wonderfully versatile side. If you’re feeling spicy¹⁶, you can add cayenne to the mix; you could also try some oregano or rosemary, lime zest and ginger, or just leave them as is. It’s all deadly.

So with that, I’ll let you get on with your Friday. Look at the sun tomorrow morning¹⁷, reflect on what has and hasn’t changed — and then get up the next day and do it all again, just differently.

1. I think the record is 30 so far — goal for the year is to hit 50 in one post!

2. My commitment to this even more apparent by the fact that Kiddo CWD now identifies mornings by “sunrise” or “no sunrise” based on the vibrancy of the sky. Especially good ones evoke “It’s beautiful!”

She also calls the sunset “sunrise,” but we’re still working on that.

3. It started off with wanting to get the first sunrise of the year, then the second, then the third — and next thing I knew, I’m two weeks in and god forbid I break my streak.

4. Check in with me again in June when Helios starts his journey over the horizon at 5AM.

5. Profound, right?

6. Strictly speaking, the river is always changing, too.

7. Unless, of course, you get thrown in unawares — but, again, you probably aren’t the first one to get dunked. Learn to swim!

8. Not in our house, strangely enough, since I’m not sure I actually really even remember Nana CWD even making vegetables.

9. I’ve had them traditionally done at steak houses, battered and fried at Nouveau American bistros, tossed in sriracha, bathed in butter, shaved and served raw with pecorino. Truly a versatile vegetable.

10. Cabbage, to the layman.

11. There’s a reason almost every culture has some form of pickled and fermented cabbage — sauerkraut, kimchi, a dozens of other varieties.

12. Not to be confused with the city in Belgium, nor with Bruges.

13. Even better would be to dice up and render some bacon, but we didn’t (shockingly) have any in the fridge at the time. Tallow, ghee, butter, or olive oil would work here, just maybe not as deliciously well.

14. If you buy the little ones that come in a mesh bag at Whole Foods, I’ve found you don’t need to trim or cut Brussels before roasting them. If they’re the big ones, though, you’ll want to half and trim them before moving to the next step.

15. Mrs. CWD reminded me after I wrote this recipe that if you let them sit in the bowl, salted, for 30-45 minutes, they’ll get extra crispy upon cooking.

16. Pun!

17. The astute among you may have noticed that this email hit your inbox 4 minutes before the sun crested the horizon here in Boston, so now might be a good time to look east (if you’re the kind of person who obsessively checks your email pre-dawn on Friday morning).