READY, FIRE, AIM: In Defense of Cauliflower

I came across an unusual article recently, in The New Yorker, written by Colin Stokes and Ella Quittner in December 2020.

Twelve Surprising Ways to Use Cauliflower

Times have changed since December 2020 — as we know very well — and I seriously doubt the authors would write the same article in February 2026. Some of the recommendations were downright silly, like:

The housing market is very volatile. Rather than falling victim to a rental scam, consider compressing several tons of cauliflower heads into bricks. Stack the bricks on top of one another, using thin layers of “grout” (that’s what we call liquefied cauliflower) to hold everything together. When you’ve got four walls and a roof, move right in!

I laughed when I read this suggestion.  Because I already have a house.

The authors had other silly ideas, like inviting a cauliflower out on a date, to see if a romance will manifest itself.   Imagine the stories you would have, to tell you grandchildren?

Another suggestion that made me laugh:

Toss it in the trash. Just for two seconds, to teach it a lesson. Then simply remove, rinse off any coffee grounds, and proceed with your recipe as written.

In general, the twelve suggested uses implied that the authors were not fond of cauliflower, and would probably turn down the chance to use cauliflower in any type of recipe, even after washing off the coffee grounds.

Out of guilt feelings — because I actually laughed at some of the suggestions — I’ve decided to make amends by writing this column in defense of cauliflower.  I’ve known literally hundreds of cauliflower heads in my time, and I’ve never met a cauliflower who wanted to do me any harm. They have been consistently polite and generally sympathetic, although often lacking a sense of humor.

I use the term “cauliflower heads” because that’s how I typically come across them: as disembodied heads. Usually with the frilly green collar of their shirt still attached.

I assume it’s a green shirt collar?  I could be wrong.  Speaking personally, I would never wear a green shirt.  Not my color.

And for that matter, I hardly ever wear a shirt with a collar of any kind.  Definitely, I would never wear a shirt with a frilly collar.

But I’m not a cauliflower.  To each his own.

My readers may have noticed that ‘gluten-free’ pizzas have begun to appear in the freezer section of the supermarket, and some of those pizzas claim to have a “cauliflower crust”. I guess that’s one way to get rid of your excess cauliflower heads.

Obviously, the manufacturers of these pizzas have not yet figured out that you can make bricks out of compressed cauliflower, and help address the housing shortage.

I would imagine these bricks have a faint green tint?  From the shirt collars?

I hope it’s not “hospital green”.

Knowing cauliflowers as I do — consistently polite and generally sympathetic — I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if we had to paint the cauliflower-brick houses, to achieve a more suitable color.