Romanesco & Polenta

03 February 2013.

If It's Not Quite Broccoli, but Not Quite Cauliflower, It Must Be Romanesco.

I like to think that I'm a conscientious shopper. While I can't say that I'm frequenting farmer's markets these days, I do go to a small whole foods market and I try to not only read the labels, but to actually take them into consideration. I pay attention to where my food comes from, and I try to buy things that are grown in my region; and above all, I buy what is in season. If you keep those two things in mind, you'll find the freshest and most flavorful products. I try to go shopping not only with open eyes, but also with an open mind -- if something looks unfamiliar, you can bet it'll come home with me. Write down the name and google it when you get home -- you'll likely be overwhelmed by the number of recipes that come up.

At my market there are constantly certain fruits and vegetables that are being promoted at reduced prices. They're (almost) always from the region and are always in season. Last week, two of my favorite things collided: the promo-product and my desire to keep trying new things. An oddly shaped vegetable, it reminded me of a cross between a broccoli and a cauliflower -- bright yellow-green with tightly closed florets that had the rubbery feeling of a head of cauliflower. Totally over-the-moon excited, I brought it home with me.
It was, indeed, neither broccoli nor cauliflower, but as I suspected, something in between. My internet search revealed that it's best to boil it (but not too long). I imagined that it would be great with pasta, but I was already thinking ahead to Monday night's dinner -- so I decided to pair it with a nice polenta instead.

I started by preparing the polenta. Following the instructions on the package, I mixed polenta into boiling water in a 1:4 ratio. I added a bit of dried vegetable broth for flavor and cracked black pepper. Once I'd achieved my desired consistency, I emptied my pot of polenta into a broad, flat skillet -- I set it aside. Polenta will, as it cools down, take the form of its holding container such that it can be cut into wedges.

I roughly chopped the entire head of romanesco into larger-than-bite-sized pieces. (There's nothing worse than throwing a vegetable into a pot of boiling water and ending up with many tiny crumbly bits that have to be removed with a strainer.) I added water and a pinch of salt and brought it to a simmer -- I allowed mine to simmer for about 4 minutes, but you can keep going if you'd like yours to be softer. I removed my cooked romanesco from the heat and strained it.

To the pot that once held your romanesco (it can rest in the strainer for a moment), add a tablespoon of olive oil, along with a teaspoon of poppy seeds and a clove of minced garlic. I added two small carrots (cut into rounds) and two sprigs of dried rosemary (about a teaspoon), the zest of a lemon and a teaspoon of lemon juice. I allowed it to simmer together for a minute before bringing the romanesco into the mix. I gave it a good stir so that everything was in contact with the olive oil and simmered for another minute.

I plated up a generous serving of romenesco with a wedge of polenta, and tin made sure to scrape every last bit of the remaining olive oil/rosemary/poppy seeds out of the pot.
tin said that this one was particularly "fresh" and other synonyms that one doesn't expect to hear in the dead of winter. A good crunchy green vegetable, combined with the bright flavor of lemon zest is a crisp and refreshing contrast to the hearty, warm polenta. And the colors on your plate definitely won't look like February.