Here’s a question. Mostly it’s the product of my own curiousity, though a part of me is admittedly disgruntled. We’re Malaysians, and we pride ourselves on our food. We eat the most—and I mean, THE most (some would say) disgusting things known to man. Of course, we cannot claim to possess the same kind of gusto that, say, the Burmese might when it comes to eating what can be considered disgusting on a world platform. We don’t particularly fancy fried crickets or grilled lizards. We do NOT eat dog. Or cat, for that matter. But one has to admit that Malaysians, in general, eat certain things that are capable of making people gag – and I don’t mean durians.
Take, for an example: I am known to feast (most voraciously, I might add!) upon chicken hearts and livers cooked in curry, as well as in teriyaki sauce. I adore ju-jiang juuk, which literally translates to pig-intestine porridge. It’s not as bad as it sounds, so stop making those faces. And during the recent Chinese New Year holidays, my mother made what can be considered a family favourite—roasted pig bone-and-tail porridge. Oh, the Gods of roast pork sang symphonies of gastronomical bliss as we indulged ourselves that day.
So, back to my question. If we Malaysians can continuously stuff ourselves with such things as might be considered gross in Laymen’s terms, why on earth do I earn strange looks whenever I am found picking discarded broccoli leaves in supermarket chillers?
It crossed my mind today, just how odd I must’ve appeared, as I was shopping for my groceries. The girl who weighed my head of broccoli—or rather, weighed my massive bag of broccoli leaves within which ONE tiny head of broccoli was nested, gave me weak sort of chuckle. She then proceeded to ask: “What do you want those bunga for?”
By bunga (flower), she of course meant leaves.
I stared at her for a moment. Yes, I stared—mostly because I was tired of being stared at, at that point. It’s one thing to be stared at if you’re a pretty girl—it’s another to be stared at because you’re the freak picking discarded broccoli leaves like they’re going out of style. Nonchalantly, I responded.
“Masak, lah. Sedap, tau, kalau masak dengan keju.” – To cook. It’s delicious when cooked with cheese!
She gave me another weak sort of chuckle, and then we parted ways.
It occurred to me, as I was driving back home in anticipation of my dinner (instant noodles with A BUNDLE OF BROCCOLI GREENS!), that Malaysians just don’t know how to appreciate these little delicious leaves as of now. Of course, it takes a while for any new fad to kick in—it took a while with the bubble tea, and it took a while with Japanese food. Granted, no one’s actually spoken out for broccoli leaves just yet—and it’s unfortunate that each head of broccoli is only accompanied with so many leaves, which gives rise to an impracticality for them as a viable vegetable on their own. Quality is important, but I concede that quantity is just as important. Don’t get me wrong, however. I love broccoli, and have often said that I would kill for it—something I have only ever said about bacon, besides—but I feel as if the broccoli leaf has been underappreciated for long enough.
So. If you’re ripping them off your heads of broccoli, because you think they’re pointless, inedible, and yucky? Then I have beef with you.
Broccoli greens are absolutely delicious. Cooked just right, they are tender, but still retain a crunch when bitten into. To me, they’re a combination of kale and brussels sprouts, both flavourful and so deliciously, lusciously green. Because they taste, essentially, like vegetables, they’re easy to handle—cook without overcooking, and they’ll taste like absolute green heaven. Various different comments online will tell you different things. To some, it’s bitter. To others, it’s the nectar of the Gods. Personally, I like that there’s a slight bitterness to the leaves—large, or small. The tiniest ones are tender and soft, whilst the older, bigger leaves retain a crunch. Choose those whose leaf sections are no larger than your palm, and you can't go wrong. But as long as you cook them long enough—but not so long, so they lose their nutrients and flavour, It’s like eating a meadow of fresh, green grass. I love it.
About as much can be said for cauliflower leaves. Paler in hue as compared to broccoli leaves, they are nonetheless as delicious. I often add them into my tray when I am cooking cauliflower cheese—and in case I’m not good enough of an authority on food, I’ll point out that Rick Stein does it too. There’s something deliciously rich, leafy, and green about them that I can’t put my finger to—but, if anything can be said, it is that they, like the broccoli leaf, are often overlooked in favour of that which they encase. Personally, I think of them like the outer leaves of a cabbage. Green is green—it doesn’t do to waste.
Waste, however, is what I saw today. Hundreds of abandoned broccoli leaves, wedged between actual broccoli florets on ice. Of course, I’m aware that it’s thanks to the disinclination of others to eat broccoli florets that I was afforded my luxuriously green dinner, but it made me sad, in a way. Sad that so few people besides myself were party to the benefits of broccoli leaves. Science has proven, in fact, that they’re rich in carotenoids and vitamin A. It is also said to be low in saturated fat, and is very low in cholestrol. It is a source of protein, thiamin, niacin, calcium, iron, and any number of other important-sounding compounds that make your body look and feel great.
So, the next time you’re about to rip the leaves off your broccoli? Think of the gorgeous leaves in soup. Think of them roasted in cream, butter, and cheese with cauliflower. Think of them in a delicious stir fry. Think of them blanched, in a salad for that extra burst of flavour.
Or, you can think of me. Picking off the remains of your broccoli. Whichever floats your boat—at least now, you know they’re edible.
Cheers, people! Eat your broccoli! –and their leaves, too!
