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Brussels Sprouts in Rosemary Cream Sauce — The Side Dish That Earns Its Place at the Winter Table

February 2025. Winter in Memphis, 66 years old, and the cold has settled into the house on Deadrick Avenue the way cold settles into old bones — persistently, without malice, just the physics of aging and December. Rosetta has the thermostat set at 74, our eternal compromise, and I cook warming things: stews and soups and slow-braised meats that fill the house with steam and flavor.

Charlie in Nashville, thriving in the way Charlie thrives — quietly, competently, with the determination of a Johnson woman and the grace of something uniquely hers.

I experimented this week — smoked pork belly burnt ends, cubed and re-smoked with sauce and butter until they were sticky, caramelized, and indecent. The kind of food that makes Rosetta say "Earl, your arteries" and then eat three more pieces, because even nurses have limits, and the limit of smoked pork belly burnt ends has not yet been found by human science.

I sat in the lawn chair next to Uncle Clyde's smoker as the dark came on, and I thought about what I always think about: the chain. From Clyde to me. From me to Trey, maybe, or Jerome, or whoever comes next with the patience and the hands and the willingness to stand next to a fire at three in the morning and wait for something good to happen. The chain doesn't break. The fire doesn't stop. And I am here, 66 years old, in a lawn chair in Orange Mound, Memphis, Tennessee, watching the smoke rise, and the rising is the living, and the living is the gift.

The smoked pork belly gets all the attention — and it deserves every bit of it — but what makes a real winter table in this house is what surrounds it. While the smoker was doing its slow work out back, Rosetta had Brussels sprouts going on the stove with rosemary and cream, the kind of side dish that fills the kitchen with a warmth that has nothing to do with the thermostat. It’s the dish I keep coming back to in February, because the chain isn’t just fire and smoke — it’s everything on the plate.

Brussels Sprouts in Rosemary Cream Sauce

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, finely chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
  • 1 cup heavy cream
  • 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil

Instructions

  1. Blanch the sprouts. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the halved Brussels sprouts and cook for 4–5 minutes until just tender but still holding their shape. Drain and set aside.
  2. Sear for color. In a large skillet, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the drained Brussels sprouts cut-side down and cook without stirring for 2–3 minutes until golden brown. Remove from the pan and set aside.
  3. Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add the butter to the same skillet. Once melted, add the garlic and rosemary and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant — do not let the garlic brown.
  4. Add the cream. Pour in the heavy cream and stir to combine with the garlic and rosemary. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook for 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the cream reduces slightly and begins to thicken.
  5. Finish and coat. Return the Brussels sprouts to the skillet. Stir to coat them in the cream sauce. Add the Parmesan, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Cook for another 2 minutes until the cheese is melted and the sauce clings to the sprouts.
  6. Serve hot. Transfer to a serving dish and garnish with a small sprig of fresh rosemary and an extra pinch of Parmesan. Serve immediately alongside roasted or smoked meats.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 25g | Carbs: 16g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 380mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 463 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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