THE LAST WORD
By Pat Coughlan
In the grand tapestry of the Irish Christmas feast, the Brussels sprout emerges as an unexpected star, a little green gem amidst a sea of traditional fare. Once a culinary outcast, it has fought valiantly for its place alongside the beloved spuds and succulent roasts. Historically, it was often the butt jokes where its bitter reputation was playfully mocked.
You will have noticed the TV ad this Christmas where the smart little girl knows she doesn’t like sprouts and that there will be a row if she refuses. At the Christmas Dinner table she announces she wants sprouts and loves sprouts. Her mother expresses shock, but the little girl maintains she loves sprouts and proceeds to ask for them and a lot of other items available. When her mother says that with all that food, she won’t be able to taste the sprouts the little girl replies with just one word. EXACTLY.
Tricks like this have been used by children and even adults for as long as Brussels sprouts have been around, however now as the Irish diner begins to re-evaluate this humble vegetable, it stands poised for a renaissance, ready to charm its way into the hearts—and plates—of the nation.
In the face of culinary adversity, the Brussels sprout stands as a testament to resilience, much like a hardy Irish farmer braving the elements to ensure his products end up at the Iverk show in Pilltown. Often dismissed as the culinary equivalent of a wet weekend, it perseveres, determined to prove its worth.
In the grand theatre of the Irish Christmas dinner, the sprout has long played the role of the reluctant understudy, overshadowed by the star-studded cast of rich meats and buttery spuds. Even on Irish TV, ads playfully poke fun at the humble sprout, cementing its status as the butt of culinary jokes. Yet, a culinary revolution is afoot, as innovative chefs like Nevin Maguire wield their spatulas like magic wands, transforming these once-maligned morsels into culinary darlings. By embracing roasting and caramelisation, as illustrated in Maguire’s recipes, the sprout sheds its bitter reputation, emerging as a crispy, nutty delight.
Now imagine this. A bustling dining room in a charming Callan, or indeed Castlecomer, home, where the Brussels sprout, once the wallflower of the festive feast, now basks in newfound glory. No longer the neglected side, it stands proudly amidst the spread, its crispy, caramelised exterior gleaming under the twinkling fairy lights. Diners, once sceptical, now reach eagerly for these verdant gems, their preconceived notions challenged by the sprout’s transformation. With each bite, admiration grows, reminiscent of famed chefs like Rory O’Connell or possibly Gordon Ramsey demonstrating their skills at the annual Kilkenny Savour Festival, as the humble sprout claims its rightful place, not just as a sidekick, but as a potential centrepiece, rewriting its festive narrative.
As we gather around the table, let us embrace the sprout’s journey from culinary exile to festive favourite. It embodies the spirit of the season —renewal, hope, and the delightful surprise of finding joy in the most unexpected places.
