I have been checking out Molly’s blog from time to time. Then one day she was talking about her trip to Brussels and the food on her blog. I emailed her and told her I lived in Brussels bla bla bla and got no response. (I always respond to my reader if they leave a comment or email me maybe she was busy or thought I weird oh well her loss.) By the way I do eat Leek and Potato soup here-it is yummy! Yes mom you read that right I eat leeks.
Then I got a subscription to Bon Appétit magazine and found out she is a writer for the magazine. I just wanted to share this article and recipes with you- from the October issue of Bon Appétit. Molly's blog is orangette click here.
By Molly Wizenberg
It was barely noon on our first day in Brussels when we spotted the leeks. We'd stopped at a small grocery store to buy some bottled water, and as we stood in line to pay, my husband noticed a large wooden crate by the cash registers.
"Look at those," he said, pointing. The crate was piled high with leeks, firm and glossy as piano keys, their leaves plump and freshly trimmed, a deep shade of green. Their tiny, hair-like roots were still tangled endearingly with damp mud, as though they'd just been pulled from the bed. My husband and I don't always swoon over the same things—he will never share my love for Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf," and I will never understand his insatiable passion for hot sauce—but these were stunning specimens. I'd never seen such gorgeous leeks outside of a farmers' market, much less near the cash register of a grocery store, a strategic spot where most American stores stock chewing gum, batteries, and packs of candy. I have nothing against any of those things—especially not the candy—but these Belgians were clearly onto something.
Here in the States, we often don't know what to do with leeks. We buy them to make potato-leek soup, but that's about the extent of it. The average grocery store seems to reserve only the smallest amount of square footage for them—much less than it devotes to lettuce, onions, or Idaho potatoes. But in Brussels, I noticed, everyone seems to have a leek or two in their grocery basket. The same goes for France, where, so far as I can tell, even the most basic shopping list includes leeks, potatoes, and carrots. (Yes, I am one of those types who stare compulsively at other people's grocery carts. Guilty as charged.)
Leeks look like oversize scallions, and they are related to both onions and garlic, but their taste is softer and more subtle than any of them. In a word, they're delicious. I love leeks in nearly every form, but I have to admit that I don't cook them as often as I could.