Garlic-Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Mustard Sauce

Christmas lights. The annual production. The Scottsdale house: white lights (Jessica), multicolored (Roberto's demand, my labor), luminarias (Elena's tradition), Diego's inflatable Santa (year three — Roberto has achieved acceptance, which is the final stage of inflatable-Santa grief). The Maryvale house: I hung the lights alone this year. Roberto did not direct from below. Roberto was in the recliner. Elena said, "He told me what to tell you: the blue strand goes on the lemon tree." The man cannot direct from the yard anymore. The man directs from the recliner, through Elena, the message passing through the wife to the son the way the mole recipe passed through the mother to the son — mediated, but intact. The instructions are Roberto's. The hands are mine. The lights are the family's.

The Maryvale house glowed. Thirty-seven years of Christmas lights. The same strands — repaired, replaced bulb by bulb, maintained by Roberto for decades and now maintained by Marcus. The lights are a tradition that will outlast the man who started them, the way the grill will outlast him, the way the restaurant will outlast him. I stood in the Maryvale yard and looked at the lights and I did not cry because crying in the Maryvale yard while looking at Christmas lights is not something a forty-one-year-old man does. But I came close. The lights are beautiful. The lights are Roberto's. The lights will be mine someday. I do not want the lights. I want the man who hung them.

Christmas catering: fourteen events. The most ambitious December yet. The catering arm has become a significant revenue source — contributing 24% of total revenue, up from 22% last year. The growth is steady, organic, built on word of mouth and the simple truth that Rivera's food is good and good food travels. The Christmas prime rib special: sold out every night for the fourth consecutive year. The tradition is established. The tradition is Rivera's.

Diego's Christmas list: a drone ("for aerial filmmaking"), a book about Kubrick ("for research"), and a pet lizard (the classroom lizard experience has become a permanent desire). Sofia's list: a competition cooking jacket ("the professional kind, not the camp kind"), advanced knife sharpening tools, and — surprisingly — a fiction writing class. Sofia wants to write. Not about cooking. Not about food science. Fiction. Stories. The girl who analyzes everything wants to create something that cannot be analyzed. The girl wants to make art. The spreadsheet creator wants to write stories. The fire takes unexpected forms.

The prime rib gets the headlines every December — four sold-out years running, and Roberto still finds a way to look satisfied even when the update reaches him through Elena from the recliner — but the sides are what keep the catering tables honest. I’ve been running these garlic-roasted Brussels sprouts with mustard sauce as part of the holiday spread for two seasons now, and they disappear faster than I expect every single time. Something about the way the mustard cuts through the richness of a Christmas plate feels exactly right. And after standing alone in the Maryvale yard that night, looking at thirty-seven years of lights, I needed a recipe that just asked me to use my hands.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons olive oil (for sauce)
Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

Preheat. Heat oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
Season the sprouts. In a large bowl, toss the halved Brussels sprouts with minced garlic, 3 tablespoons olive oil, salt, and pepper until evenly coated.
Roast. Arrange sprouts cut-side down in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Roast for 20–25 minutes, flipping once at the halfway point, until the edges are deeply caramelized and the cut faces are golden brown.
Make the mustard sauce. While the sprouts roast, whisk together the Dijon mustard, whole-grain mustard, honey, apple cider vinegar, and remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil until smooth and emulsified. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
Serve. Transfer the roasted sprouts to a serving platter and drizzle generously with mustard sauce, or serve the sauce alongside for dipping. Best served immediately while the edges are still crisp.

Nutrition (per serving)

Garlic-Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Mustard Sauce — The Side Dish That Earned Its Place at the Rivera Christmas Table