Lately, I've taken to walking the length of the Greenmarket before work, following my feet and my appetite. I love this place for the way it comes together, then disappears from sight, only to unfold again in shifting shapes and colors.
On the rare and joyous occasion that I've got cash in my pocket and an evening to myself, I'll revel in a bin of produce, dreaming of what to cook for dinner. Last week, I was consumed by kale. This week, I covet Brussels sprouts on the stalk.
But regardless of the medium, the method that will always have my heart is roasting. I'll leave vegetables whole, skins and all, and dress them with oil before forgetting about them in a hot, 450 degree oven. Left to their own devices, they'll crisp and soften, caramelizing all the while.
Once rescued from the oven, preferably just before burnt, roasted vegetables require very little embellishment. I'll toss fingerling potatoes with salt and coarsely cracked pepper, broccoli with Parmesan, Brussels sprouts with fish sauce, sugar, garlic, and chile (at most).
Tomorrow, I'll wander through the stalls again, hoping to discover something new to roast.
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