O Brussels, How My Love for You Sprouts Anew
Yay!! It's fall vegetable season!! Officially, I like all seasons' vegetables, except for whatever season is most responsible for squash, zucchini, and eggplant. There's no place for gourds at my table. Fall, however, has the added benefit of Brussels sprouts, which I am unashamed to declare my love for, despite 36 years of declaring them to be too foul to even consider. Sorry, Mom--you were right!
I figured out that I liked Brussels sprouts when I figured out how to stir fry them, making them tender and crispy instead of the stinky and mushy results when they're bored. I'll fry them on their own, or with berries, maybe with some vinegar, maybe some molasses, maybe some grass-fed butter, or--like tonight--with purple potatoes, red onion, and coconut oil. I may not know all the tricks to dealing with Brussels sprouts, but I know a few of them, and I'm proud of it. What I don't know is why they're called Brussels sprouts, whether it was actually the Belgians who developed these tiny little mutant cabbages, and who was the first person to be brave enough to eat them after smelling them in their post-raw state. This is not the kind of knowledge gap I can tolerate, so, for all our benefit, i got to the bottom of it. Right after I filled my belly with yummy veggies.
According to Lynne Oliver's excellent Timeline of Food, Brussels sprouts first achieved popularity in northern Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries, despite being well-known in their native Mediterranean environment since around the 5th century. The first print reference to the name Brussels sprouts is from 1796, suggesting they enjoyed a different name prior to that time. The smart money is on them being called "tiny cabbages" because, well, obviously. Their first area of cultivation in Northern Europe was in a region that today sits in the southern Netherlands. That's not exactly Belgium, but it's pretty close. In the absence of any concrete textual evidence or historical theories suggesting otherwise, I'm going to guess that some trader or stuffy aristocrat in England wanted to get a good price and social points for their tiny cabbages and decided to call them Brussels sprouts as a way to class things up but not confuse a geographically-challenged foreign population.
I haven't been able to find any clear explanation for their stench, but I have a feeling it might relate to Brussels sprouts high concentration of sulphorophene, a phytochemical and antioxidant. Not only do Brussels sprouts share this chemical with their similarly odorific cousins, cabbage and broccoli, but just look at the word. It's got sulphur right in it, and anyone who has ever spent time around a hot springs or elderly relative with a fondness for eggs knows just how bad that can smell.
Tonight was my first Brussels sprouts-based meal of the season, and I expect a lot more. In fact, I expect one tomorrow at lunchtime, when I eat my amazing leftovers, mixed with a bit of multi-colored quinoa. Brussels sprouts, I'm glad to have you back in my kitchen! Now please just keep your stink and your mush to yourselves.
