Cauliflower Fritters: All Brassicaceae all the time.

Aaron suggested a similar recipe from Jaime Oliver- I wanted to see if it could be adapted for the single botanical family series. I had... a fair amount of success, although I basically threw in the towel from the first.

Cut 1 cup of florets- about 1/4 of a large head of cauliflower. Thin 2 tbs. mustard with water until it has the consistency of heavy cream. (This is the first time I admitted defeat. I used honey mustard- and there's vinegar in prepared mustard. It might be better with a little bit more mustard powder- or some wasabi) Start to heat an inch and a half of canola oil in a small heavy pot. This is about... a cup?

Please note your three Brassica species: cauliflower, rapeseed, and mustard. (I included a quartered Brussels sprout as a test. It was pretty good. It's also technically the same species as cauliflower.)

Wait until the oil is 180 degrees F. Drop 1/3 cup florets into the mustard sauce, stir briefly, and let drain for a couple of seconds. I dredged them in flour here- resulting in further failure on the single family front, leaving really tasty crispy bits all over the pan, and not creating a delightful tempura crust at all. Drop the breaded or unbreaded cauliflower into the pan and deep fry for about a minute. Remove with a slotted spoon. Sprinkle with salt and lemon juice and eat while hot. (Lemon juice is another failure.) Repeat this paragraph with the last two batches of cauliflower.

So crispy! So oily! It tastes like fried things and glucosinolates! Hurrah!

Yes, fine, squashes tomorrow.

Simple Sunchoke Soup- Bad Idea Fridays

I'll get to how this is a bad idea later. Serves 2.

Peel and slice 1/4 pound sunchokes (also known as Jerusalem artichokes) into 1/4 inch thick pieces. Simmer in two cups salted water until soft. Puree. Reheat and serve warm.

You can see that I served mine with half of a tiny steamed artichoke, a drizzle of safflower oil, and a sprinkle of sunflower seeds. That's right- every single part of this dish is from the Asteraceae.

I am unhealthily obsessed with dishes where all organic ingredients (the definition where the opposite is inorganic, not the one where it's conventional) derive from a single botanical family. I like how chemical compounds found throughout the family reinforce each other and interact in new and different ways. Also, I spend a lot of time driving in cars full of botanists; after you've played the alphabet genus game, there needs to be one more icebreaker game before you start talking about how awesome your cat is.

What sort of inspired interplay of flavors can one expect from this soup? Well, there's a crapton of inulin- a polysaccharide that human bodies are confused by, but beneficial intestinal bacteria love. Somehow this makes members of the Asteraceae oddly filling. To quote the typically insatiable C post-sunchoke soup, "Huh. Somehow, I don't really want to eat anything more." *

*This is not like my homemade bread. I swear it's edible. Tasty even.

There's also that distinctive sunflowery terpenoid that I can't find the name for- but when you have to identify a plant from one juvenile leaf, knowing this scent is a distinct advantage. Aspiring botanists should sniff all the ingredients for the soup.

There are also wonderful bitter alkaloids, although this soup lacks them. C prevented me from adding endive, escarole, and assorted other lettuces. Some people like a subtle flavor of gardens gone to bolt in their soup. Some people do not. The latter sort of people should not body check the former away from the stove. One has to get one's terrible ideas from somewhere.