Because WE didn't ban it.

The esteemed colleague and I pop into Broad Ripple Steakhouse often enough that friends and sort of friends make fun of us for it. The specials are typically yummy, but last night we forewent the specials for other things.

Our mistake.

Chef brought out a little amuse composed of the ravioli accompanying the filet mignon special and WOW. Foie gras in pasta rags with a veal reduction sauce drizzled with crème fraiche. On top was a yummy surprise. Asparagus tips that looked grilled but a taste proved them to be caramelized. Caramelized with sugar. A little sweet crunch against the salty sauce and delicate pasta and creamy foie, it was magical. I admit I can't vouch for the rest of the special, but it's filet, what could go wrong? And even if it's bad filet (which, as they say about sex and pizza, is still pretty good), you got the magical foie gras ravioli, right?

And why can we have magical foie gras ravioli without passwords and fines? Because we didn't ban it like SOME cities I could name. Yeah, I'm lookin' at you, Chicago.

Oh, and Broad Ripple Steakhouse changes the specials weekly. And today is Wednesday. Off you go.

Brussels Sprouts

I have an increasingly long list of things I thought I hated for various reasons. At the top of the list has always been those tiny, squishy, sulphury balls of mush that loll limply around the plate, making everything smell like cabbage and not in a good beer-hall-sausage-on-the-way way. Ersatz vegetables foisted on defenseless elementary school students by a system that also defines ketchup as a vegetable.

But maybe not.

I'm taking Alice Waters' words to heart and trying to eat locally. Or, if not locally, at least seasonally. And what's in season now? Brussel sprouts. I happened upon some at Sunflower Market that didn't look demonic at all. They were actually cute. So, like I do with cute things (shoes, cats, etc.), I took them home.

Trimmed and cut lengthwise, braised in French butter and water, then sautéed golden after the water boiled away. A dab of cream, a crumble of chestnuts and they became…good. Really good. "Hey, I'd make this again" good. Snuggled (cutely) next to a roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, it was a lovely comfy dinner for the first brisk night of fall.

Here's the recipe from Epicurious I didn't follow so much as sidle.