If It Ain't Broccoli Don't Fix It - Recap

Alton begins in the Food Gallery, where he reveals that his efforts have closed many of the exhibits. He walks past a pedestal on which spinach once rested and notes a few other departures: peas, spinach, beets, dark leafy greens. But he reaches one display that is still occupied. It is brassica oleracea – broccoli. It has earned the ire of everyone from presidents to children and has been accused of many untrue things: blandness, bitterness, and worse. Cartoons lambasted the vegetable as far back as 1928, when a famous New Yorker cartoon depicted a domestic scene in which a little girl refused to eat broccoli, and added “to hell with it” to the shock of her parents.

Broccoli comes from an Italian word that means “little arms.” This is a key difference between broccoli and its genetically almost identical kin: cauliflower, brussel's sprouts, kale and cabbage. Broccoli may date back nearly 2000 years, to Etruscan gardeners and their successors in the Roman Empire. Its big break in the United States occurred when a pair of Italian brothers began growing it in California in the early twentieth century. Today, about ninety percent of what's consumed in the United States comes from California.

But Alton's having trouble finding broccoli in his produce aisle. Eventually he discovers a woman arranging... vegetables? She explains that given time, all the vegetables she's arranging will eventually become pretty flowers like the example she shows Alton – tiny yellow flowers in a bouquet. She's right – many forms of broccoli are flowering bodies (not all, but many). She also has broccoli rabe (bitter, related to turnips), broccolini (a cross with Chinese kale), and broccoli romanesco which has a curious and almost fractal pattern to it. As the florist compares the broccoli romanesco to a “magic fairy sandcastle” Alton shares a look impugning her mental stability with the viewers.

Once it flowers, broccoli is extremely bitter. That's the first of Alton's purchasing tips. He recommends tightly closed buds, tightly grouped florets and an even, bright green color – avoid splotched specimens. Alton also checks the cut end of the stem to ensure it is moist. If the cut end is white or crusty it means some of the sugar has become lignin, a key ingredient in wood, and definitely not good eats.

Being a flower, broccoli spoils quickly, rarely lasting more than a few days in the chill chest. As Alton moves to deposit his florets, The Gnome appears. The Gnome berates Alton because broccoli, he claims, belongs in the produce drawer, which is properly moist. It has no humidifier, but the seals around its edges trap the moisture emitted by the vegetables themselves. A small level varies the air circulation. The drawer also keeps the temperature stable, since cold air does not flow out of it every time the main door opens.

To prepare broccoli, Alton starts by using a paring knife to make quick diagonal cuts that separate the florets from the stem. If the stem is particularly woody, he'd peel it first, but this example has a nicer stem, so all he does is quarter it.

While cauliflower responds to long cooking, broccoli works best when cooked quickly at high heat. Florets cook much faster than stalks, and most folks overcook their broccoli (Alton cuts to a scene in 1930 when a young George H. W. Bush perhaps first rejected the vegetable). People do this, Alton says, because they want to soften the plant and unlock the nutrients inside. But boiling tends to over soften the cell walls. And once that happens? It's all over.

To explain further, Alton revives an old bit: Mystery Food Science Theater! It shows how cell walls sequester bright green chlorophyll from acidic compounds that can turn it grayish brown; overcooking sunders these cell walls and dulls the broccoli chemically. Water soluble nutrients also race out of the broken cells into the water. Since most cooks discard the water, they're discarding many key nutrients in this fashion. Even careful blanching poses this risk.

But even though steaming is hotter than boiling, it is far less dense and it cannot wash nutrients away. Since most of the nutrients are in the florets, Alton suggests a hybrid method: his stalks will sit in the water and form a kind of platform on which the florets will sit out of the water. He cuts his stalks into strips about 1/4” thick and lays them in a saucier. He adds a pinch of salt and sufficient water to almost cover them. Then he drops the florets on top, covers the pan and cooks them at high for a few minutes, and then a low for a few more. The lid maintains even cooking and the steam preserves flavor and nutrients.

What nutrients? While his broccoli cooks, Alton explains – with the help of guest scientist Casimir Funk, the man who postulated the existence of vital nutrients. Noticing that folks who ate more brown rice had fewer instances of beriberi, he set out to learn why, and ultimately isolated thiamine, or vitamin B1. He later postulated the existence of vitamin B2, C, and D. The body can manufacture some such compounds, but must absorb others from food; the absence of these compounds inhibits key biological processes; the specific missing compound determines what process cannot occur, and that, in turn, determines what symptoms develop and what humans call the condition. Because the first such compound contained an amine group, Funk dubbed the class of such chemicals “vital amines.” Eventually scientists discovered other such compounds that were not amines, and the 'e' fell away, leaving us with the modern 'vitamin.'

Alton says goodbye to Casimir and returns to the stove, where his broccoli is done. He adds a little butter (which combines with the remaining water to form a sauce), salt and pepper before serving.

Broccoli contains nearly as much calcium as milk and has more Vitamin C than an orange. It contains vitamins K and A and is a good source of fiber. Add minerals and anti-oxidants, and broccoli really is a superfood.

Broccoli and its kin contain compounds related to those found in mustard gas, among the first chemical weapons. Most of us find these flavors pleasant, but a few people have far more taste buds and taste flavors more intensely. Such “supertasters” may find boldly flavored foods unpleasant and excessively bitter. There is a way around this: roasting. The dry heat of roasting causes certain sugar transformations, creating a sweetness to counter the bitterness.

Alton sets his hot box to 425° F – a great deal of heat, but he doesn't plan on keeping his brassica in there for very long. He prepares his broccoli by cutting it into bite sized pieces (splitting larger florets). He also cuts stalks into 1/8” thick slices. He tosses this with some olive oil into which he has mixed some minced garlic, and a little salt. A few grinds of black pepper complete the preparation. Next, he adds some panko bread crumbs to a pan and toasts them for just two minutes. He mixes the toasted crumbs thoroughly with the broccoli, puts the broccoli in the pan and roasts that for eight to ten minutes – until the broccoli is just tender.

Alton transfers his roasted broccoli to another bowl and adds some cheese. He chooses cheddar but allows that Parmesan cheese would also work. Covered, this will last in the chill chest for two days or so. But Alton likes his hot...

Some folks believe broccoli is best served raw – at least, from a nutritional perspective. Alton's problem with this is that raw broccoli seems to come in just one form. At this point, Alton notices that Thing is presenting a tray bearing an invitation to a neighbor's party – for today! Then Alton realizes Thing has stolen the invitation. But Alton's not one to let it go to waste even if it wasn't sent to him.

The party's in full swing down the street, and Alton's creeping around the bushes outside the house, peering in through windows as “In the Hall of the Mountain King” plays faintly in the background. He finds an open window, and beneath it there is what he expected to find – the raw vegetable tray. Sure, it's rich in nutrients, but how useful are they if the eater cannot choke down the vegetable without slathering it in sour cream or other high fat dips? Alton's sure there's another way...

Back in his kitchen, Alton contemplates raw broccoli. He claims the best approach is to think “coleslaw.” He'll cut the broccoli “wafer thin” and dress it. That dressing starts with a tablespoon of white wine vinegar and some lemon zest. Alton adds lemon juice, a bit of Dijon mustard, a little kosher salt and a bit of freshly ground black pepper. As he whisks this he drizzles in some olive oil, essentially building an extra tangy vinaigrette.

To slice the broccoli, Alton quarters a head and then uses a mandoline. A few long pieces remain; he solves that problem by chopping through the pile of sliced greens a few times in each direction, before scooping the pile into the bowl of dressing. He tosses that and refrigerates it (for a minimum of one hour). When it has marinated, he adds a few cherry or grape tomatoes and a few nuts. Alton chooses hazelnuts, but pecans would also work. Two tablespoons of basil chiffonade complete the ingredients, and a bit of tossing combines them.

Back at the party, Alton removes the completely untouched vegetable platter and replaces it with his own mixture, to the delight of the guests.

And back in the Food Gallery's Vegetal Hall of Horrors, Alton places a “Closed” sign on the pedestal that once held brassica oleracea. Alton knows he cannot erase the years of loathing, but he believes he can hope for a new day in which people beg for broccoli. There remain other monsters lurking the gallery, but these will wait for their own episodes of Good Eats. Alton turns, and after three steps vanishes into the darkness as the spotlights above each exhibit wink out... for now...

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