Roasted Broccoli

Excuse me if this post makes no sense; I have been traveling since 4:30 this morning and my brain is at that state where it either wants to turn to oatmeal or shut off. I'm going to try to squeeze this post out before I pass out.

I went to my parents' house this past weekend, and my aunt, uncle, and two cousins happened to be in town as well. My family is really close, so whenever my aunt and her family come into town (they are the only family member that doesn't live within walking distance from my parents' house), we all get together. It typically involves pizza and salad on the food front and Blue Moon, white zin, bourbon, and a wine that has been opened since the last gathering (that always gets pawned off on me) on the drink front.

This particular night was no different (old wine included), except I made dinner--no waiting on the pizza man. There are a lot of young kids in my extended family, so I needed to make something fairly universal for the menu. I went with linguine (I think fettuccine noodles are too wide) with an alfredo sauce and sauteed chicken accompanied by roasted broccoli, salad, and bread. This roasted broccoli is a unique way to eat an old-fashioned favorite, so if you're pro-broc, or even if you don't think you are, make this.

Back to my family...my grandparents live on a big hill and their front yard slopes downward, and at the bottom of the hill, there is a creek. We have a family legend called "The Thing that Drags" that dates back to one of my aunt's birthdays (I don't know exactly how old she was). She is the youngest of four, and just before bedtime, my grandfather told the girls the legend of The Thing that Drags. TTD is a man that lives in the bottom (at the time the bottom was swampier than it is now, so there was an added element of scariness). According to the tale, sometimes you can see TTD walking across the front lawn dragging...his bum leg or something...it's never been all that clear. That night, my grandfather had my uncle go down to the bottom and creep across the lawn when he saw the girls peek out the front door. What do you know, they were lucky enough to see TTD that night...and clearly, they didn't sleep a wink.

This past weekend after dinner and drinks, my grandfather decided that it was time to revive the legend. I heard Pop tell my uncle to go down to the bottom; then, Pop got my younger cousins (I'm the oldest by far) riled up by telling the story. Afterward, the whole family piled onto the front porch, and the kids went down the hill to explore. We heard leaves rustling and sticks crunching, and all of the kids were freaking out. My six-year-old cousin, Elle, was the most brave of all and went the furthest...

She has a three-year-old brother...it was understandable that he didn't lead the charge.
My cousin (boy) who is twelve wouldn't even go halfway down the hill...unacceptable!
My other cousin--boy, nine years old--stood about 20 feet behind us saying, "I'll protect you from here." Well, at least he had our back...

It was hilarious. Eventually, TTD stopped making noise, and we heard my uncle come out onto the porch and ask what we were all doing looking into the woods. We all started up the hill, and the kids were watching their backs until the front door closed and everyone was inside. The fun was short-lived, but it was terribly amusing. This is just a glimpse of a Friday night with my family. They are phenomenally loving and very lighthearted and unbelievably supportive.

TTD has nothing to do with this broccoli recipe other than the fact that this recipe breathes new life into a classic, but under-appreciated vegetable, and TTD is a staple in my family that was rejuvenated this past weekend; now that we have all experienced TTD, we have a new love of and understanding for the story. I look forward to hearing my cousins tell this story to their kids and snicker as they go down the hill to check it out. And while the food may not be something that they talk about when they recount this particular evening,  it is certainly something that brought us together and a catalyst for the memories that followed.

heads of fresh broccoli, washed
olive oil
seasoning salt to taste
sriracha or a pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)

Preheat the oven to 375. Trim the bottom of the broccoli stalk so that it measures five to six inches from top to bottom. Slice the broccoli into long slices (see picture). There's no need to waste and use only the florets, because the stems get really tender. Only cut off the Place your knife just below the floret and drag it to cut the stem in half. The broccoli should still be connected at the top, and pull it apart.


In a plastic or bag bowl large enough to fit the broccoli, mix the olive oil and sriracha. Add the broccoli and coat well.  If you're not using sriracha, toss the broccoli in the oil alone. You will want a couple healthy glugs of oil, because if your broccoli is too dry, it will not roast well and will become dry, tough, and dehydrated. Not the intended outcome.


Once all greased up, spread the broccoli evenly onto a cookie sheet and sprinkle with seasoning salt (and red pepper flakes if you desire spice but didn't use sriracha). Roast for 25 to 35 minutes, or until the tops are a little brown and there is visible caramelization, tossing occasionally. It shrinks up a lot, so if you're feeding a crowd, make sure you buy plenty!

Ready to roast!

Roasted...told ya, it shrinks!