Romanesco - Broccoflower or Intergalactic Overlord?

Image via www.forumilab.ch

My fiancee is vegetarian. This is not Headline News! in and of itself. But since we've been together, my diet has improved significantly. Long gone are the days of my bachelor diet, which consisted of a lot of frozen pizzas, processed cheese slices, the occasional can of soggy, utterly defeated green beans, and whatever lurked in those neglected plastic Glad containers at the remotest corners of my otherwise empty fridge.

My diet now includes regular doses of fresh produce like peppers, tomatoes, onions, and assorted greens, as well as soy products like tofu, "chik'n", and veggie crumbles (great in tacos and chili) and every type of bean imaginable. I can honestly say that the effects of this healthier diet on my physical, mental, and spiritual well-being are tangible (though the digestive effects are still a work in progress). I feel like I have more energy, my mind seems sharper, and I generally feel a whole lot better about myself.

This change in my eating habits has introduced me to a lot of new foods, some of which I would have never known existed. Case in point: Romanesco broccoli. That picture you see up above is not a microscopic view of a particularly deadly strain of brain parasite. No, those spiraling miracles of nature are romanesco florets.


Romanesco is (obviously) a variant of the broccoli/cauliflower family, and is often referred to as "broccoflower". I was introduced to this eccentric vegetable when I found it sitting at the bottom of a bag of produce we acquired from a local organic produce supplier (Irv & Shelly's Fresh Picks). It was covered by a great, leafy head of romaine lettuce, and when I first laid eyes on it, I was dumbfounded.

Vegetable? Mutant sea flower? Omnipotent extraterrestrial being?

According to Wikipedia, the intricate patterns on its florets are logarithmic spirals, which compose a natural fractal, in which each bud is composed of smaller buds on a continuously smaller scale. I was alternately mystified, terrified, and baffled by these florets as the romanesco sat on my kitchen counter, exuding a bright green, almost radioactive glow. In terms of nutritional content, Romanesco is high in fiber, and rich in vitamins C and K, and carotenoids like beta-carotene. I wouldn't be surprised if it also enabled vision quests into alternate universes.

But how the hell does one consume this thing to reap its vast nutritional benefits? I checked the Fresh Picks blog and found a couple of recipes, both of which involved cutting into florets, tossing it with olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper and roasting the hell out of it in the oven (presumably to neutralize its otherworldly essence). The florets can then be sprinkled with pine nuts and goat cheese and served as a side dish, or combined with pasta, rice, or quinoa for an absurdly healthy main course.

Wikipedia also notes that is commonly served as "crudites", which is a fancy French term for slicing it up and serving the raw florets with veggie dip. My fiancee sliced off the top floret and ate it whole. Horrified by this casual act of desecration, I stood transfixed as she chewed, anticipating that she would begin radiating the same greenish glow, or begin levitating or speaking in tongues. She only grimaced a bit, noting that it was "kinda dry" and that it "basically tastes like cauliflower.

Quite the kitchen knick-knack, no?

And that's where things currently stand. The desecrated romanesco has been returned to the crisper in the fridge, while we determine how best to prepare it for consumption. I proposed the idea of drying it and placing it somewhere in our apartment, to use as an exotic piece of bric-a-brac sure to provide a wacky conversation starter at our next soiree. Alas, we don't really ever entertain (and I believe this is the first and probably last time I'll ever use the terms "bric-a-brac" and "soiree" in a blog post). So that idea was quickly shot down. While we deliberate over what to do with our romanesco, I have determined two things:

1) I have decided to call it "Lord Floret"

2) I have a good idea what was in that briefcase in Pulp Fiction.