Creamed Broccoli and Cauliflower

Late January. The book is almost through final revisions. The editor is satisfied. The agent is optimistic. The publication is scheduled for September and the timeline feels both imminent and infinite, the way September always feels in January: so far away it's theoretical. But the book is real. The manuscript is a stack of pages (I printed it, all of it, because I needed to hold it in my hands, because weight is evidence, because three hundred pages weigh something, and the something is Fumiko).

I made Fumiko's kimpira gobo — braised burdock root, sliced thin and sauteed with sesame oil and soy sauce and mirin, finished with sesame seeds and red pepper flakes. The dish is humble — burdock root is not a glamorous ingredient — but the flavor is extraordinary: earthy, sweet, slightly spicy, the kind of flavor that sneaks up on you and sets up residence. Fumiko made kimpira gobo every week. It was her regular side dish, her Tuesday food, her "this is just what we eat" food. I make it now with the same frequency and the same lack of ceremony, because the ceremony is the regularity, and the regularity is the tribute, and the tribute is just: kimpira gobo on a Tuesday. The same as always. The same as Fumiko.

I got vaccinated this month — both doses, the COVID vaccine that was supposed to end the pandemic and didn't, but that ended the worst of the fear, the specific terror that touching a doorknob might kill your grandmother (my grandmother is already dead, but the fear was there anyway, because anxiety does not check facts, anxiety just fires). The vaccination felt like an exhale — not the end, but the beginning of the end, the loosening of a fist that had been clenched for two years.

Miya asked about Fumiko this week. "What was Obaachan like?" she asked at dinner, over onigiri. I said: "She was small and quiet and she made the best miso soup in the world." Miya said: "Better than yours?" I said: "Yes. Better than mine." Miya said: "I don't believe you." And the disbelief was the highest compliment I have ever received, because it means my miso soup is, to a five-year-old who never tasted Fumiko's, the best in the world. I am the standard now. I am the Obaachan now. The title has been transferred. The transfer was not planned. The transfer is Miya's decision, made over onigiri, on a Tuesday, without ceremony. The ceremony is the onigiri.

Burdock root is not always easy to find, and some Tuesdays you work with what the grocery store gives you — but the spirit of Fumiko’s kimpira gobo, that quiet insistence on a humble vegetable made carefully every single week, translates. Creamed broccoli and cauliflower is not kimpira gobo, but it is the same category of thing: unremarkable on the surface, irreplaceable at the table, the kind of side dish that arrives without announcement and anchors the whole meal. I make it the same way I make everything that belongs to Fumiko — without ceremony, because the ceremony is the doing.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 cups broccoli florets, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 cups cauliflower florets, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg

Instructions

Steam the vegetables. Bring 1 inch of water to a boil in a medium saucepan fitted with a steamer basket. Add the broccoli and cauliflower, cover, and steam for 5 to 7 minutes, until just tender but not mushy. Remove from heat and set aside.
Build the roux. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Whisk in the flour and cook, whisking constantly, for 1 to 2 minutes until the mixture turns pale golden and smells faintly nutty.
Add the dairy. Slowly pour in the milk and cream, whisking continuously to prevent lumps. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, for 4 to 5 minutes until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon.
Season and melt the cheese. Reduce heat to low. Stir in the cheddar, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and nutmeg. Stir until the cheese is fully melted and the sauce is smooth. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
Combine and serve. Add the steamed broccoli and cauliflower to the sauce and fold gently to coat. Transfer to a serving dish and serve immediately, while the sauce is still glossy and warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Creamed Broccoli and Cauliflower — The Humble Side Dish That Holds the Week Together