Brussels sprouts with ham

When I think of primitive cooking, I picture dishes like these Brussels sprouts with ham. I know, I know. For a lot of you, primitive cooking conjures up a campfire, or a fire pit at a pinch, and great hunks of barely cooked meat washed down with beer.

To me it means something else. Good food that’s easy to make. Primitively simple. Where a handful of things (really just three in this case: sprouts, cold meat and breadcrumbs) come together to make something filling that tastes good, too. Cooking that doesn’t call for stacks of pans, plates and equipment. What’s more, you don’t need the kind of skills that Gessler or some Ramsay or other demands of contestants on TV.

That’s why I write this blog. I’m no great cook. Never will be. I’d go so far as to say I’m not even a good cook. But I can still make things that other people sometimes enjoy. I enjoy them too. That’s the point. The person you’re cooking for should like the food. If it’s for you, make it the way you want it. If it’s for someone else, ask them, “How do you like it?”

Personally, I love spicy food. Believe it or not, it was in China that I learnt what hot means, and I assure you there aren’t many places in Poland where you’ll find something genuinely hot. In fact I’ve come across it in Poland twice in my life. Yes, twice I’ve cried my way through something seriously hot and kept eating. In China you can cry several times a day, especially in Sichuan.

The first time I cried in Poland was back at university. Towards the end of the evening (let’s not say “at dawn”), I told the man at our favourite kebab place (kebabs had flavour back then. It’s hard to find a good street kebab these days, for all sorts of reasons ranging from how much you’ve had to drink to how old your palate is getting) that I’d like mine “woyally hot”. He did his best.

The second time was quite recently, last summer. Some street food festival of flavour or whatever it was called set up near my block of flats. The burger queue was an hour long, so I joined the burrito queue. The woman asked how hot I wanted it on a scale of 1 to 7 (where 1 wasn’t hot). So I picked 7. “Are you sure?” she asked. I gave her a pitying look and said yes. She turned round to the crew bustling about behind her and called out with a huge grin, “First seven of the day!” (and the festival was closer to the end than the beginning). Then they handed me my burrito.

I cried. I ate 3/4 of it. That burrito had no flavour. None. All it had was heat.

But back to the point. I like it hot (though more of a 5 – 6 than a 7 on that scale). So my dishes tend to be spicier than the classic versions. Then I try them out on “guests” and discover they’re too hot. Hence the merit of asking first. That’s quite enough homespun wisdom from me.

As for these sprouts, I love them. Usually I like the classic version, just with breadcrumbs. Today, though, they were going to be my entire lunch, so I added some cold meat. They’re great. That slightly bitter sprout flavour with a hint of sweetness, rounded off with good lean ham. Heaven in a mouthful. I recommend it.

At a glance: 

Preparation time: 20 minutes (it takes that long because the sprouts need boiling)

Serves: 1 (as a side dish there’s enough for 2 or 3)

Calories: it’s cabbage, so even if it has any…

Ingredients for some lovely Brussels sprouts:

• half a kilo of Brussels sprouts
• 8 – 9 slices of ham (I had 3 kinds: Black Forest, farmer’s ham and Polish wyborowa ham)
• a tablespoon of breadcrumbs
• olive oil
• butter
• ground black pepper
• salt

Recipe (100% primitive cooking):

I’ve gone on at length above the recipe, so this bit won’t be long. It’s as simple as borscht (which, come to think of it, I’ve never made).

I trimmed the sprouts and boiled them in lightly salted water (about 15 minutes, just don’t let them turn to mush. Start them in cold water like potatoes and bring to the boil). I heated olive oil with a little butter in a frying pan. I cut the ham into thin strips and fried it in the pan.

Once the ham was browned (about as much as you’d brown it for scrambled eggs), I tipped the drained sprouts into the pan and stirred. I added pepper and a little more salt. Another stir. I turned down the “heat” (from 4 to 3 on my scale of 1 – 10) and added another tablespoon of butter. Once it had melted, I scattered a tablespoon of breadcrumbs, maybe a touch more, all over the sprouts. I mixed everything really well so the crumbs mingled with the melted butter and clung to the sprouts. All done. Enjoy!