Romance was on the menu, so my friend Pam suggested leeks. Her logic eluded me. Because the leggy vegetables grow layered, like love? Because, as cousins to onions, they provoke tears? Because they're dirty?
She didn't explain. I took her recipe nonetheless. It called for blistering the leeks under fearsome heat. Braising them into submission. And serving with salt. Honestly? TMI.
Still, I gave the technique a try. I rinsed the leeks, roasted them brown and basted them tender. They arrived at the table silky, sweet, possibly even seductive.
Though, honestly, not a big hit with my dinner date. The next day, I toasted a slice of sourdough, slathered it with brie, and topped it with leftover leeks. It made a perfect solo snack.
Not romantic. But a singular success.
