There are foods Bossy loves, which number in the bazillions. And then there are foods Bossy hates, of which there is one (chitterlings), and then there are foods Bossy tolerates, of which there used to be a very small number that is disappearing as Bossy ages — those tolerated foods are shifting into the beloved category.
Cauliflower is one such thing. Bossy could take it or leave it, mostly leave it if there were any other options. But this past summer, Bossy attended
a wedding party which was catered vegan, and the cauliflower showed up in Bossy’s dreams for weeks afterward.
Bossy wasn’t sure how that cauliflower was prepared because this is the extent of what Bossy knows about vegan cooking: wasn’t Gwyneth Paltrow a vegan? But now she rides around on the back of Mario Batali’s motorcycle through all of Galicia sampling grilled sardines? Yeah, that’s what Bossy knows about vegan cooking.
But back to cauliflower: who knew? There’s a wide divide between tolerating something and dreaming about it, and in those intervening years has been Bossy’s dad, the voice of reason, saying, “Oy. Makes you gassy.”
The other day when Bossy spied this fresh orange cauliflower at her local
co-op market, she couldn’t buy it up fast enough, and for three nights in a row Bossy has been cooking it up this way:
In her skillet with some olive oil, sea salt, and cracked pepper, Bossy sautés bite-sized pieces for a few minutes, and then she splashes some heavy cream over it and throws a lid over the thing and lets the cream bubble and scald away under there until it evaporates, for the most part. And then Bossy sprinkles cinnamon and nutmeg over the whole deal.
Honestly, it’s better than a sweet potato pie.