In Defence Of The Humble Brussels Sprout

Brussels Sprouts The Mouthful

Dear Brussels Sprout,

Wow does the internet not like you. You’ve been turned into a meme central of all things gross and just when you thought you didn’t deserve more aggression in your life, the New York Times has to make you the “new favourite Thanksgiving appetizer.” You were, universally mocked.

You’re probably used to it as well. You can never be as glamorous as a parsnip, as wanted as a honey glazed carrot or as feared as a whole butternut squash; you’re as popular as Morrisey after any time he gives his opinion and as feared as a San Diego zoo keeper. #LongLiveHarambe

It’s not really your fault though. I’ve got your back.

It is but a mere marketing exercise, and let me explain, you never stood a chance with the name, Brussels Sprout. The first half, a nation which is famed for mayonnaise on chips and mass bureaucracy, the second, the kind of medical condition where you know a doctor is applying gloves and calling a secret army facility to deal with “another mysterious case.”

You my friend, are the vegetable equivalent of a Stranger Things/D&D Demogorgon, where erupting bowels and constantly scared faces precede every single encounter.

Now the other part of the marketing equation has to do with taste. There is “no accounting for it” as Liberace and his mass cloak would say, but when it comes to the humble brussel sprout what are we talking about? Bitterness? A bit of sour? A bit of… oh do get a life. You see, even when you add to your complex flavour profile, like bacon and cream, you’re still the main focus even if somewhat ignored… does anyone have the number for one of the Kardashians?

We don’t mind when you’re smashed into a gourmet burger. We couldn’t care less when you’re chargrilled and served with crumbled toasted chestnuts. You’re the thing that allows us to have all the other good stuff but you don’t make a song and dance about it

Those that baulk, cough, dry heave or just cry at your appearance as a festive slider this Thanksgiving or Christmas, secretly want you. Without you, the holidays aren’t the same. The feigned expressions over the wrong gift or the embarrassment felt by all the family at the picture of you tugging on your own manhood aged seven is just useless without you on our serving platter.

Let the haters hate, you know what you do? Shake it off. #AllHailTaylorSwift. You’re not popular, you’re not Instagram friendly and food writers will have a field day trying to get you eaten by kids and adults alike; that’s on them not you.

What are the holidays without Brussels Sprouts? It’s a world I don’t want to think about.

A Brussels Sprout Lover

Gino de blasio

About Gino de blasio

Gino was raised on a diet of Italian food, 1990s stereotypes and thinks Pop Tarts are still one of his five-a-day. Big hair, big heart, but no time for bad coffee.

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