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brussel sprouts quiche

I don’t understand people who make fun of brussel sprouts.

Anyway, if you want to try something christmassy but different, here’s the recipe for a nice quiche.

The one on the picture has got the base made of wholemeal flour. Not that it’s relavant.

brussel sprouts uiche

brussel sprouts quiche


Brussel sprouts quiche


For the pastry:

1 glass of flour

1/2 pack of butter

few spoons of cold water

pinch of salt


for the filling:

300-400 grams of brussel sprouts

100 ml of sour or soya cream

1-2 spoons of nutmeg

pinch of salt

2 eggs

200 grams of hard cheese (any type you like)

fresh or dried herbs (oregano, basil, thyme, parsley)


1.For the pastry go to the recipe for spinach and cherry tomato quiche and make it exactly the same way.

2. Pre-bake the base, in the meantime boil brussel sprouts in a lightly salted water (obviously you have to first cut off the stems, but not so much that the leaves fall. Cut a small X into the base of each sprout to allow the core to cook thoroughly) for about 5-6 minutes. Drain.

3. Arrange sprouts on pre-baked base. Mix eggs with cream, herbs and nutmeg. Sprinkle grated cheese on the sprouts, then pour cream and egg mixture over and sprinkle some more cheese.

4. Bake in 160 C till it’s golden and done.



About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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