![Cauliflower Celery Salad- A Healthy Hunger]()
Many years ago I read an article in the NY Times Food Section about a chef and his sweetheart. It turned out that the woman of his dreams did not like cauliflower, so he set off to come up with recipes that would make her fall in love his favorite vegetable, and hopefully him.
I always loved that story. Aside from the beautiful romanticism of the act food and love, I was amazed that anyone could actually really like this bland sulphurous vegetable. I grew up mainly on the east end of Long Island, in a community that had many Polish families, (potato farmers who have since fallen away to the vineyards). I have one distinct memory of playing after school at a friend's house which was filled with this noxious foul order. We stumbled in from the yard through the kitchen door and I stopped in my tracks. "What is that SMELL!", I exclaimed with nose wrinkled as far as it would go. My pal shrugged nonchalantly, "Cauliflower". Upon the stove was a huge pot fiercely boiling that poor vegetable within an inch of its life. Needless to say I did not stay for dinner.
![saladmakings]()
Cauliflower is the New Kale
We've been taught to "eat the rainbow" and reach for color in vegetables as an indicator of nutritional vibrancy. Surprisingly this pale cruciferous orb is packed with goodness.
Read More
Many years ago I read an article in the NY Times Food Section about a chef and his sweetheart. It turned out that the woman of his dreams did not like cauliflower, so he set off to come up with recipes that would make her fall in love his favorite vegetable, and hopefully him.
I always loved that story. Aside from the beautiful romanticism of the act food and love, I was amazed that anyone could actually really like this bland sulphurous vegetable. I grew up mainly on the east end of Long Island, in a community that had many Polish families, (potato farmers who have since fallen away to the vineyards). I have one distinct memory of playing after school at a friend's house which was filled with this noxious foul order. We stumbled in from the yard through the kitchen door and I stopped in my tracks. "What is that SMELL!", I exclaimed with nose wrinkled as far as it would go. My pal shrugged nonchalantly, "Cauliflower". Upon the stove was a huge pot fiercely boiling that poor vegetable within an inch of its life. Needless to say I did not stay for dinner.
