Bacon Brussels Sprouts with Hot Honey

I turned seventy-one on Thursday, January eighteenth. The morning was cold and clear — twelve below overnight with a hard sky at dawn, the kind of January day that looks like a photograph of itself, everything sharp and still. I made my birthday breakfast the same as I have for forty years: two fried eggs in butter, sourdough toast, a small glass of good orange juice that I buy specifically for this morning. Simple and deliberate and exactly mine.

Sarah called at nine, Teddy and Finn on the line too, and we talked for forty-five minutes. Finn had made me a birthday card, which Sarah held up to the camera so I could see it: a drawing of what appeared to be a man holding a pot, labeled in uneven letters "GRAMPAS FOOD." Teddy said at the end of the call, slightly sideways as teenagers say important things, that he thought seventy-one was a good number because you had already done the hard work of seventy and now you just got to enjoy the knowledge. I told him that was perhaps the best sentence I had heard in January and he laughed.

Carol drove down from Stowe despite the cold and arrived at noon with a birthday cake she had made herself — a maple layer cake with cream cheese frosting, the maple syrup from our farm's last tapping season, the recipe her own development over two years of iteration. It was exceptional. We sat at the kitchen table and ate it and talked about our parents again, the way we have been doing in January, and Carol said at one point that she thought seventy-one was the age at which you stopped being surprised by how you feel and started simply being present in it. I thought that was about right.

Ted came over in the afternoon with a bottle of Vermont bourbon and Patricia sent a jar of honey from a local beekeeper she had found in the valley. I made a simple birthday dinner: roast chicken — Helen's method, with lemon and thyme — because it is what I have wanted every birthday for years. The chicken fills the house with a particular smell when it roasts and that smell is, to me, the smell of being at home, of belonging to a place and a kitchen and a set of people who return to the same table. Seventy-one years. The house is still warm. The people are still here.

Patricia’s honey arrived that afternoon in a small jar — local, raw, from a beekeeper down in the valley — and it sat on the counter while I worked on the chicken, catching the light the way good things do when you’re paying attention. I’d made these Brussels sprouts a handful of times in recent winters, but that jar of honey changed the pan entirely: a little heat, a little sweetness, the bacon doing what bacon does alongside roasted vegetables in January. It belonged next to Helen’s chicken. It belongs next to most things worth sitting down to eat.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved lengthwise
4 strips thick-cut bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons honey
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (or to taste)
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with foil or parchment.
Render the bacon. In a large oven-safe skillet or directly on the baking sheet, scatter the bacon pieces. Roast for 8 minutes, until beginning to crisp. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving the rendered fat on the pan.
Roast the Brussels sprouts. Toss the halved Brussels sprouts with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Arrange cut-side down on the pan in the bacon fat. Roast for 18–20 minutes, until the cut faces are deeply caramelized and the outer leaves are crisp.
Make the hot honey glaze. While the sprouts roast, whisk together the honey, red pepper flakes, apple cider vinegar, and Dijon mustard in a small bowl until smooth.
Finish and glaze. Remove the pan from the oven. Scatter the reserved bacon back over the sprouts, then drizzle the hot honey glaze evenly over everything. Toss gently to coat. Return to the oven for 3–4 minutes, just until the glaze is set and glossy.
Serve. Transfer to a serving dish and finish with an extra pinch of red pepper flakes if you like. Serve immediately alongside roast chicken or any main that deserves a proper table.

Nutrition (per serving)

Bacon Brussels Sprouts with Hot Honey — The Side Dish That Earned a Place at the Birthday Table