Roasted Brussel Sprouts

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Renaissance Chef & Poet Corey Pressman made what he calls "Autumn Alchemy: Roasted Brussel Sprouts with Maple Syrup & Curry and Herb Buttered Carrots". Click here for more information about Corey. Autumn Alchemy Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Curry and Maple Syrup1 1/2 pounds Brussels sprouts, ends trimmed and yellow leaves removedFew tablespoons of olive oilBig pinch of saltA glug of two of maple syrupA healthy pinch of curry Salt and pepper to taste-Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Trim off the woody bottoms of the sprouts and cut the sprouts in half. Set aside the outer leaves that fall off; they are good in a salad with other greens.-Spread the sprouts on a baking sheet and mix coat the olive oil and salt. Roast these in the oven for about 30 minutes, stirring no and then. You can roast even longer if need be - I like a little char on my sprouts.When they are done, get these into a bowl and mix in the syrup and curry. Season to taste and eat hot or cold.Buttery Carrots2 pounds carrots1 teaspoon kosher salt1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper2 tablespoons unsalted butter1 1/2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley (other herbs or good too!)-Peel carrots and cut them diagonally in 1/4-inch slices. Place the carrots, 1/3 cup water, the salt, and pepper in a pan and get this to a boil. Cover the pan and cook over medium-low heat for about 7 minutes, until the carrots are just cooked through and fork tender. Add the butter and saute until the water evaporates and the carrots are coated. Toss in the parsley and season to taste.Corey's Poem: ButterBY CONNIE WANEKButter, like love,seems common enoughyet has so many imitators.I held a brick of it, heavy and cool,and glimpsed what seemed like skinbeneath a corner of its wrap;the décolletage revealeda most attractive fat!And most refined.Not milk, not cream,not even crème de la crème.It was a delicacy which assured methat bliss follows agitation,that even pasture daisiesthrough the alchemy of four stomachsmay grace a king's table.We have a yellow bowl near the toasterwhere summer's butter growssoft and sentimental.We love it better for its weeping,its nostalgia for buckets and churnsand deep stone wells,for the press of a wooden butter moldshaped like a swollen heart.