Cauliflower Steaks With Gorgonzola Sauce

Three weeks. Valentine's Day this week — our second as a married couple, our first as parents. James came home from work on Wednesday with flowers and a card and a container of Taiwanese sesame noodles from a restaurant we used to go to before the baby, before the company, before the life we have now, which is better than the life we had then but also louder and more chaotic and infinitely more covered in spit-up.

We ate the noodles on the couch at 8 PM while Hana slept in the crib. We did not go out. We will not go out for a long time. We ate cold noodles and watched a cooking show and James said, "Happy Valentine's Day, Stephanie." I said, "Happy Valentine's Day, James." He said, "This is better than last year." I said, "Last year I made you a steamed fish and you cried." He said, "This year I brought you noodles and you have spit-up on your shoulder." I looked at my shoulder. He was right. There was spit-up on my shoulder. I ate the noodles anyway. The noodles were perfect. The spit-up was evidence. The Valentine's Day was the best we have ever had because Hana was sleeping in the next room and the sleeping was a miracle and the miracle was ours.

Karen and David came on Saturday. Karen held Hana for forty-five minutes — the longest she has held her since birth. Her hands shook. Hana did not mind the shaking. Hana slept against Karen's chest, rising and falling with Karen's breath, unmoved by the tremor, as though the tremor were just another kind of rocking. Karen looked at Hana's face and said, "She has your seriousness, Stephanie. She evaluates." David said, "She evaluates the ceiling. She is three weeks old." Karen said, "She is evaluating the ceiling with intention." David laughed. He has been laughing more since Hana was born. The baby has unlocked something in David — a lightness, a permission to be silly, a willingness to get on the floor and make faces at a three-week-old who cannot yet focus on his face. David Park is eighty years old and he is making faces on the floor. The crib he built is the best thing he has made. The faces are the second best.

I went back to the SoDo kitchen on Thursday — just for two hours, with Hana in a carrier on my chest, to check in with Grace and see the February box preparations. Grace took one look at me and said, "You should not be here. Go home." I said, "I just wanted to—" She said, "Go home. The company is fine. James is managing. The boxes are packed. The subscribers are happy. You are a mother now. Be a mother. The kitchen will wait." She was right. She is always right. I went home. I put Hana in the crib. I made doenjang jjigae. I ate it at the counter. The stew was the same stew. I was different. Everything is the same and everything is different and the difference is a seven-pound girl who sleeps in a quilt from Busan in a crib from Bellevue in a kitchen in Seattle, and she is mine, and the stew knows it, and the kitchen knows it, and I know it, and knowing it is the whole recipe.

The recipe this week is sesame noodles — the Valentine's Day noodles, the lazy noodles, the noodles you eat on the couch with spit-up on your shoulder while your daughter sleeps in the next room. Thin wheat noodles, cooked and drained. Sauce: tahini (or Chinese sesame paste), soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, chili oil, sugar, garlic. Toss the cold noodles in the sauce. Top with julienned cucumber and sesame seeds. Eat with chopsticks. Eat with your hands if the chopsticks are too much effort. Eat however you can. Eat on the couch. Eat on Valentine's Day. Eat on any day that ends with your baby sleeping and your partner beside you and the world, for one hour, quiet enough to hear yourself chew. That is the recipe. That is the whole thing.

The sesame noodles James brought home on Valentine’s Day reminded me what I’d been missing — not restaurants exactly, but food that required nothing from me, food that just arrived and was good. Grace sent me home from the SoDo kitchen with strict instructions to be a mother first, and she was right, but being a mother doesn’t mean you stop wanting a real dinner. These cauliflower steaks have become my answer: one pan, twenty-five minutes, a sauce that comes together while Hana sleeps, and enough richness to feel like you actually sat down to a meal even when you’re eating at the counter in yesterday’s shirt.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

1 large head cauliflower
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 oz gorgonzola cheese, crumbled (about 3/4 cup)
1 small clove garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/4 teaspoon dried)
2 tablespoons chopped toasted walnuts, for serving
Fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped, for serving

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper and brush or drizzle with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil.
Cut the cauliflower steaks. Remove the outer leaves from the cauliflower but leave the core intact — it holds the steaks together. Stand the head upright and slice straight down through the center into two 1-inch-thick steaks. Reserve any florets that fall away for another use.
Season and roast. Brush both sides of each steak with the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil. Season with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Lay flat on the prepared baking sheet and roast for 20–25 minutes, flipping once at the 12-minute mark, until the edges are deeply golden and the centers are tender when pierced with a knife.
Make the gorgonzola sauce. While the cauliflower roasts, warm the heavy cream and minced garlic in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Once it begins to steam (do not boil), add the gorgonzola and thyme. Whisk gently until the cheese melts into a smooth, pourable sauce, 2–3 minutes. Remove from heat; the sauce will thicken slightly as it sits.
Plate and serve. Transfer the roasted cauliflower steaks to plates or a serving board. Spoon the warm gorgonzola sauce generously over each steak. Scatter toasted walnuts and parsley on top. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cauliflower Steaks With Gorgonzola Sauce — A Dinner That Asks Nothing of You