05 Mar 2025
Elena Hogg, founder of local culinary company FOOD by Elena, has big ideas for the humble cauli…
It’s the same each year: cauliflower season arrives and the plump, nobbly heads of snowy white deliciousness invite me – dare me – to make my yearly attempt at
recreating the cauliflower soup we had at The Three Oaks in Gerrards Cross a good number of years ago now.
My husband had ordered it for himself, but had to watch much of it disappear into my mouth rather than his, so good was this soup. He has a knack of ordering the tastiest food on the menu, and I suppose that is the price he pays.
Soup is usually a warming but plain sort of dish – cooking’s version of a comfy pair of jeans. Exactly what you reach for time and again to feel just right, and it’s the same with a good bowl of soup.
But there’s soup and there’s soup.
The one we tasted at The Three Oaks was intense and rich in flavour, adorned with beer-battered scraps and an eye-poppingly sharp piccalilli which really cut through the creaminess. I don’t think I’ve ever had a chutney or pickle actually strewn atop a soup before, but along with the crunch of the crozzled batter bits, it really made the dish sing. We’ve never forgotten it. And I’ve never succeeded in recreating it.
My love of cauliflower is strong enough to survive this disappointment, however, and I regularly find myself chopping up florets for other dishes. I never miss an opportunity to slice myself off wedges of the stalk to crunch on there and then, with the very woody parts shaved off. The sweetness in the stalk is delicious, though after a few mouthfuls I do get jaw-ache from chewing.
One of my favourite ways to eat cauliflower is a recipe my mum used to make when I was in my teens. Pound a mixture of cumin and coriander seeds in a pestle and mortar before adding more than you think you should of fleur de sel and also a couple of garlic cloves. You want to make a rough paste. Add oil to loosen, then toss the cauliflower in this flavoured oil and pop in the oven until the florets start to brown.
Those charred bits are what make this recipe so delicious, in fact, because the caramelisation really brings out the sweetness, and the crispy texture is extremely moreish. You can add broccoli florets to the roasting pan too, if you like, for colour and variety. All brassicas welcome, in fact.
The romanesco variety of cauliflower is as tasty as it is beautiful, with its avocado green colour and fractal design not unlike a tiny, geometric forest of pyramid trees. Where cauliflower can sometimes seem a little pedestrian, the romanesco is more of a showpiece – perfect for sprucing up your sides and making waves (little pointy ones) at your dinner parties.
I ate some last spring at my friend Alison’s 60th birthday lunch, which she very generously held at the superb Vanilla Pod in Marlow. Even though the cod presiding over the plate was excellent, the romanesco still stole the show for me.
Indeed, cauliflower has earned its place among the heavy hitters of fine dining. In place of a filet mignon or a lamb loin, you might well find a cauliflower steak, which satisfies both the palate and the ethics of today’s diner.
I remember making a cauliflower steak for the main course of a high-end six-course meal for a client who doesn’t eat meat. I was very pleased with my choice of ‘steak’, but was finding it hard to decide how to serve it, given I wanted to elevate it considerably.
My friend, Leisha, whom I regularly dub my consultant, came to the rescue with the fabulous idea of a Café de Paris sauce. This is a vibrant, butter-based sauce that’s spiked with all sorts of umami punches like capers, mustard, garlic and anchovies (though I left out the last of these for my vegetarian client).
It’s typically paired with robust cuts of grilled beef, but the cauliflower was more than able to stand up to these big flavours. Moreover, the sauce is a pressure-free option for a fancy dinner, because it is in fact supposed to split. Winner winner, cauliflower dinner.
So cauliflower is the chameleon of the vegetable world: it can ascend to the uppermost echelons of haute cuisine, but it can also be the base of a hearty vegetable stew. It can sing in both Indian and Thai curries, and it can be whizzed up in the food processor to become a carb-free rice (which the sceptics among you should try because it’s surprisingly rice-like). A vegetable that works this hard to please gets a spot on my shopping list any day, and I’m renaming it caulipower.
