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Curried Cauliflower “Popcorn” — Something Warm to Snack On While the Stew Simmers

Post-Thanksgiving leftovers. Turkey stock. Turkey pot pie. The annual cycle of transformation — the bird becomes the stock, the stock becomes the soup, the soup becomes the meal that carries you into December. Nothing wasted. Everything used. Betty's first commandment.

December dark arriving. Made beef stew Wednesday because December demands something heavy and brown and warm. The stew has become a seasonal marker — when I make the first beef stew, winter is officially here, regardless of what the calendar says.

Clay mentioned, casual, over coffee Saturday, that he's been thinking about getting his own apartment again. Not leaving Lexington — just getting a place, his own place, a place with a lease and a kitchen and a door he controls. He's been at the house most weekends, back and forth from his apartment to ours, but he wants to make the apartment a home, not a waypoint. I said that sounds right. He said Sarah helped him see it — that having your own space is not isolation, it's foundation. I said Sarah's smart. He said yeah, she is. The smartest. I didn't say what I was thinking, which was: she's not just smart, she's the right kind of smart, the Whitesburg kind of smart that understands that a man needs a home before he can share a home, and Clay is building his home one piece at a time, and Sarah is watching him build it and not rushing the construction.

The stew was already in the pot when I made this — one of those Saturday afternoons where the kitchen is warm and the house smells right and you need something to pick at while the real thing is still hours away. Cauliflower with curry and a hot oven. It roasts down into these crispy little bites that are somehow impossible to stop eating. Clay was at the table with his coffee and his thoughts about apartments and his future, and I was at the counter eating cauliflower out of the pan like a man with no self-control. Some meals are the main event. Some meals are just the good thing you make while you wait for life to settle into place.

Curried Cauliflower “Popcorn”

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 large head cauliflower, cut into small bite-sized florets
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons curry powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/4 teaspoon cumin
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • Pinch of cayenne pepper (optional)

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
  2. Prep the cauliflower. Cut the cauliflower into small, uniform florets — roughly 1-inch pieces. Smaller florets get crispier edges, which is the whole point.
  3. Season. In a large bowl, toss the florets with olive oil until evenly coated. Add curry powder, garlic powder, smoked paprika, cumin, salt, pepper, and cayenne if using. Toss again until every piece is well coated with the spice mixture.
  4. Roast. Spread the cauliflower in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet — don’t crowd them or they’ll steam instead of crisp. Roast for 25–30 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until the edges are deep golden brown and crispy.
  5. Serve immediately. These are best straight from the oven while the edges are still crisp. Serve as a snack, a side dish, or something to pick at while you wait for the main event.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 110 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 180mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 439 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

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