It is with great sadness and regret I must inform you that I guess I’m dead. Probably. I haven’t been officially declared or anything but all indications lead to that conclusion.
I actually died about 3 months ago, so how I’ve been able to maintain my posting schedule is a testament to my blogging dedication.
Let me bring you all back to an unusually cool night in September of 2016. I remember it well for someone who is dead. I was on vacation with family in Tofino, British Columbia. After a day of fall surfing, complete with wetsuits and burning lungs, we all warmed up and headed to a local restaurant that had been recommended.
Shelter. (no, this isn’t a sponsored post, the restaurant is a very important character in this murder mystery)
We weren’t sure if we were going to get in because it was packed with other people who probably didn’t surf all day and therefore in my mind were not as deserving of food as we were. I stink eyed people who seemed to be lingering over their coffees but they just stink eyed me back. Which I think was very rude and not at all in keeping with stink eye protocol around the world. When someone gives you the stink eye you recoil in fear and get the hell out of sight. Anyhow. We were finally shown a table at the back of the outdoor patio, where we grabbed our menus and started perusing.
British Columbia surprised me in that I thought there would be a whole lot of vegetarian options in the restaurants there but there weren’t. I’m not a vegetarian so I didn’t care. I was just surprised. I can’t remember what I ordered for my meal that night. I can’t remember it one iota. What I can remember is what we ordered as an appetizer. I remember it vividly for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is, it was the thing that led me to my grave. The one I’m pounding out this post for you from.
After protesting and fist pounding and I’m not going to lie to you, a very enthusiastic middle finger given to the waiter who brought the menu with the offending appetizer on it, I crossed my arms over my chest, and pouted. I was vetoed you see. This was not the appetizer I wanted to order. It was the appetizer I wanted to order only if I could drop kick it back to the hell it came from. My vote was dismissed by the other family members I was out to dinner with. The devil appetizer was coming and there was nothing I could do about it.
The exact day I died was September 21st.
The appetizer was brussels sprouts. I ate them. I loved them. I’m so ashamed.
Here’s my history with brussels sprouts in case you don’t know.
We left the restaurant, and everyone else resumed their vacation as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn’t split open, as if pigs weren’t flying, hell wasn’t freezing over and horses weren’t growing horns.
Now, if I’d come across any other dish at a restaurant I loved as much as this I would have eaten it, mentioned how good it was driving home in the car and then forgotten about it. But this was different. This was me liking my archenemy brussels sprouts. LOVING them.
So I did the only thing I could do; when I got home I did a bit of research, tracked down who the chef at Shelter restaurant was, found his email address and sent him a quick and possibly alarming email.
“HALPPPP. HATE … LOVE … YOU … EAT … WAHHHHH … BRUSSELSPROUTS! , NEVERWANNABALSAMICBAKEBARFSOAWFULDEVILHEADACK. SNARFSLNGIEBKIH … ~ your fan, Karen Bertelsen”.
- 100 g apple cider vinegar
- 25 g peeled shallot
- 30 g peeled garlic
- 40 g curly parsley
- 100 g honey
- 50 g olive oil
- 160 g grapeseed oil
- 5 g smooth dijon mustard
- 2 g salt
- Use either a blender or a an immersion blender to combine all the dressing ingredients thoroughly.
- Put prepped brussels sprouts into deep fryer set at 350 degrees for 2 minutes.
- Toss with enough apple cider vinaigrette to lightly coat and top with fresh grated parmesan & toasted sourdough breadcrumbs.
- Serve immediately. Seriously. Right away.
Turns out there is a way I like brussels sprouts. I like them if you deep fry them. And I like them if you toss them in a delicious apple cider vinaigrette.
I think it’s important to clarify my position on brussels sprouts at this point in time. I like brussels sprouts.
But only when they don’t taste like brussels sprouts.