Cauliflower

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but cauliflower has become quite the thing. Different “avoid carbs like the plague” diets offer cauliflower recipes as an alternative to a variety of starchy dishes. For example, instead of rice, enjoy riced cauliflower. Want a pizza but not the carb penalty, eat cauliflower pizza crust. Mashed potatoes are so passe. Mash up that steamed cauliflower.

For some folks, the stinky smell of toots is too much. Raw cauliflower stinks. Sue me. It does. It stinks like I’ve been stuck in the car with my two older brothers after a chili contest. It’s not good. Not good at all. Once cooked, however, with some butter or olive oil or a metric ton of cheese it tastes pretty delicious.

This particular vegetable trend had me wondering, though, what happens to the farmers who are doing their every day farmer thing when suddenly a crop that was once a commonplace childhood torture becomes fashionable. Imagine that first farmers market where local restaurateurs fight over who gets first choice, or women in yoga pants buying three and four heads at a time, and the bewilderment and confusion on our farmer’s face. What’s happening? Flash forward to the next season. Our farmer plants several more rows of cauliflower than before. “I’ll be ready for this farmers’ market season” as the sunglasses get pushed back up the bridge of the nose.

True confession. I do like riced cauliflower and have served Thai curries, shredded meat bbq, or marinara and meatballs over the top. My family likes it, too, so it’ll continue to be on rotation at our house.