When I was young, my parents had a rule that you couldn’t leave the table unless your plate was clean. Aside from the fact that that’s a terrible rule and the beginning of food issues, I sat there for a long time whenever brussel sprouts were served. To me they tasted worse than, but comparable to the core of cabbage or lettuce. I finally figured out how to eat them. I would cut them into quarters and swallow them with milk like a pill.
As an adult, imagine my shock when my nephew made dinner one night and my sister insisted that I try a brussel sprout. It was so good! He had halved them, tossed them in olive oil and sprinkled them with salt and garlic powder, then roasted them at 425 for 18–25 minutes.
I looked them up while writing this and saw recipes for balsamic honey and parmesan ones. yum