When I was a little girl, my mom used that term of endearment with me a lot.
"Ma petite chou?" I would ask.
"My little cabbage head," she would reply.
"Really?" I thought, "that's supposed to be sweet?"
Today Ben and I picked the last of our garden harvest. These were the only things that have survived the fast freeze that we had. The freeze that I didn't pay any attention to, and so I missed getting the bell jars over the plants that could have been saved.
So all that was left alive after the freeze were the hardy brussels sprouts.
We picked a bunch.
Ben eats them raw.
I wouldn't recommend it, but he says they're good that way.
Seeing them all sitting together in a pile reminded me of my mother's french term of endearment.
The pile of adorable little green cabbages actually was endearingly adorable.
(hmm, maybe the reason I took so many pictures of a rather unpopular vegetable?)
I personally love them if they are sauteed with some balsamic vinegar and orange zest.
But no one else in my family will eat them.
Well, obviously Ben will chomp on them raw out of the garden, but even my gardening buddy turns his nose up at a cooked brussels sprout.
So perhaps I should make one of these?
Crazy cool, right? Reminds me of the wreaths in Williamsburg, VA, all made from winter foodstuffs. The how to is located here at the lovely blog, Blomsterverkstad.
I'm guessing the general consensus in this household is that I make them into the wreath instead of try and serve the brussels sprouts to them for dinner.