Garlic Roasted Broccoli

January 2023. The new year is a week old and already it feels familiar — the routine, the rhythm, the rain. I have stopped expecting years to feel new. Years feel like continuations, which they are, the calendar's arbitrary reset doing nothing to change the actual flow of life, which flows like dashi: continuously, without pause, the heat steady, the ingredients unchanged.

I made nanakusa gayu — the seven-herb rice porridge — on January 7th, the traditional date. The herbs were from Uwajimaya and the farmers market, a combination that is Portland's version of the countryside foraging that the dish originally required. The porridge was thin and clean and green and healing, the way January food should be: light after the heaviness of December, simple after the complexity of the holidays, a bowl that says: enough. You have eaten enough. Now eat this, and be quiet, and let the year begin without fanfare.

The book is in production at the publisher — galleys being prepared, cover finalized, the slow machinery of publishing turning. The publication date is set for fall of this year or early next year. Sarah says the timeline is "on track," which in publishing means "no one has panicked yet," which is as close to reassuring as the industry gets. I am writing the second book while waiting for the first, which is the temporal vertigo of authorship: the past book in production, the present blog ongoing, the future book in draft. Three time zones. One kitchen.

Miya made miso soup this morning — entirely by herself, from dashi she made yesterday. I supervised from the doorway, watching, not helping, the hardest form of parenting: the watching-without-helping, the trusting that the hands know what to do because you taught them what to do, the faith that the teaching took. The miso dissolved. The soup was served. The taste was Miya's — slightly more miso than I use, a concentration that reflects her seven-year-old palate, which runs strong. The strength is hers. The recipe is Fumiko's. The morning is mine. All three of us, in one bowl.

The morning after Miya made her miso soup, I found myself reaching for the simplest things — nothing layered, nothing demanding, just a vegetable and heat and a little garlic, the kind of cooking that asks nothing of you and gives back exactly what the season needs. Garlic roasted broccoli is about as far from nanakusa gayu as you can get and still be in the same spirit: it is green, it is clean, and it is a reminder that January cooking is not about impressing anyone. It is, as the bowl of porridge was, just enough.

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

Ingredients

1 large head broccoli (about 1 1/2 lbs), cut into florets
3 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper or leave unlined for crispier edges.
Dress the broccoli. In a large bowl, toss the broccoli florets with olive oil, sliced garlic, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Spread in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet, making sure florets are not crowded.
Roast until caramelized. Roast for 18–22 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until the florets are tender at the stem and deeply browned and crispy at the tips. The garlic should be golden but not burnt.
Finish and serve. Remove from the oven and immediately drizzle with fresh lemon juice. Transfer to a serving plate and serve hot. Taste and adjust salt as needed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Garlic Roasted Broccoli — The Simplest Green Thing on a January Table