Huh. Cauliflower. Who knew it could be so delicious?

The first time I went to the Berkeley Bowl, I remember marveling at the array of orange cauliflower (which contains 25 times the Vitamin A of white varieties; the color is from the massive quantities of beta-carotene in the veggie) and purple cauliflower (whose shocking violet color is caused by the antioxidant anthocyanin, also found in blueberries, red cabbage, and red wine) on display.

Apparently, yes, you can have your vegetables in carnival colors. I still went home with the plain Jane white variety that evening -- I dunno, maybe the kaleidoscope cauliflower was just too jarring for me. It's been awhile since I last bought a head of cauliflower. My renewed interest in it came about after a lovely Italian meal.

Did you ever notice how Italians just have a way with making simple vegetables taste so darn good? It's the Grade A olive oil they use. That, and invoking la bella vita into their kitchens, no doubt. This particular contorno of cavolfiori was robust and full of flavor. Florets of cauliflower were roasted with sweet garlic, briny anchovies, and gilded with fruity olive oil. As each little cauliflower tree disappeared into my mouth, I plotted my strategy on how to recreate this dish at home.

I started off by cutting the cauliflower in half, then separating the branches into florets. Then, I melted down the anchovies in a skillet, stirring them until a paste formed. My husband is obsessed with all things anchovy (and all things salty for that matter), so I've been buying in bulk these little tins of Italian anchovies packed in olive oil.

Next, I add the smashed garlic to the pan, lemon juice, and the cauliflower, tossing it all together so that the anchovy "sauce" coats all the florets. A sprinkle of panko crumbs, a drizzle of olive oil, and into the oven it all goes.

The dish is done when the cauliflower is fork-tender and the panko has turned a crunchy golden brown. Top with grated parmigiano, salt and pepper, and you've got yourself one mighty fine side dish. No peacock colors necessary. The bang is all in the taste.

I never thought I had an issue with cauliflower. In fact, I've always enjoyed it, whether puréed into a soup, roasted to a nutty brown, or dragged through a bit of ranch dressing that always seems to accompany store-bought party crudité platters. Any time it is put in front of me, there is a good chance I'll eat it.

And yet I've never in my life cooked it. At least, not that I can remember.

I'd see it in the market, buy a head of the stuff and bring it home where it would just rot in my refrigerator, not so much forgotten as avoided.

I've gotten as far as placing one on my cutting board, but when I took out my 10" chef's knife, I paused, changed my mind at the last moment, and put the thing back into cold storage. For some reason, I just didn't want to cut up a head of cauliflower. I never gave it much thought until a few months ago.

When I remembered Ben.

On the very last day of elementary school, my friend Shannon and I began our final walk home with a boy named Benjamin Brenneman in tow. I can no longer remember what we all talked about or how the conversation turned ugly. All I can remember is the smell of the cut, dried grass and clover and wanting Benjamin to just go away.

Shannon and I, who were no strangers to teasing and bullying, found a release for our own frustrations upon this poor little blond boy with big eyes and the misfortune of having ears that stuck out. Whether he provoked our anger or not, I can't remember, but one thing seems clear to us-- or at least to me-- he was someone I could pick on, much in the way that other boys had always picked on me.

He was easy prey.

"You have cauliflower ears," I said. I'd heard the term somewhere, though I had no idea what it actually meant. I'd only meant to insult him. When he protested that he did not, in fact, have cauliflower ears, I persisted.

"Cauliflower ears!" Shannon joined in. It seemed all we could do was scream those words at him as if that sort of crazed chant would somehow make it true.

"Caulifower ears! Cauliflower ears! Cauliflower ears!" Shannon and I had whipped ourselves into a frenzy, and Ben, finally, ran away in tears.

I wasn't pleased with myself. I don't even know what I was thinking. Perhaps it was the illogical thought that, if I could give out the sort of abuse I was so used to getting, I'd feel better. But, of course, I only felt worse. I don't think I had ever made another boy cry before on purpose except in self-defense. I knew that I owed him an apology. My hope was that, since we were about to enter the more grown-up world of middle school, we'd all be given a free pass, a clean slate to start out fresh. I'd make it up to Ben when we started the seventh grade.

But I never got the chance.

Over the summer, on August 25th, 1981, to be exact, Ben was making his rounds as a paperboy, collecting subscription money on his route when he entered the apartment of a man named Robert Jackson Thompson by whom he was hogtied, sodomized, and strangled. Thompson, it was later learned, had been paroled from prison four months earlier where he had been serving time for molesting a 14 year-old boy at knifepoint.

Ben's murder was all anyone could talk about for the first couple of days at middle school. Nearly every conversation began with, "Did you hear about Ben?" The stories of his murder became distorted and even more horrifying. After two days, the rumor spread that he had been dismembered; that parts of his body were found all over the county and that police were racing about trying to find them as though Ben was the sole source some sort of macabre treasure hunt.

And then, suddenly, everyone stopped talking about him. By end of the week, it seemed as if Benjamin Brenneman had never existed at all. I did my best to forget him, too. With adolescent logic, I had blamed myself for contributing in some way to his death in much the same way that a child of divorced parents might blame himself for their separation. I couldn't bear the fact that I had caused him pain, that I had so easily victimized him. I imagined him trapped inside Thompson's apartment looking at his murderer with the same big eyes that I had so recently made cry.

It was too much to bear. I stuffed it away somewhere and did my best to forget all about it, just like everybody else.

Survival skills are fascinating things. To think that something as traumatic as a child murder could be ever be forgotten. More interesting to me is that I was only reminded of it whenever I tried to take a knife to a simple head of cauliflower. Even then, the feeling was only a vague sort of dread. No vivid memory of Benjamin, just an avoidance. I never cried or felt any sort of terror.

When I finally made the connection, I was stunned. I hadn't thought about that poor boy in decades. And when I did, I felt ashamed that the only memories I now retain of him are of the last day I saw him. I can't remember playing with him at recess, the telling of jokes, or anything good-- it was all there, I just can't remember any of it.

I recently asked Shannon if she remembered that last day of school. She had only a hazy recollection and recalled nothing about the name we called him. That is, until a few minutes later, when things started to come back to her, albeit vaguely. I wanted to talk more about it with her, but we were distracted by her children. I took a look at her eldest child-- my 11 year-old goddaughter-- sitting there drawing Manga characters, wondering aloud when we were going to (finally) watch Funny Girl together, and complaining that her little sister was bothering her.

I couldn't help but think that she was the same age Ben was the last time I saw him. I didn't share my thoughts with her mother. I decided to just let the whole thing go.

Cauliflower with Orecchiette

When I told my friend Karen my plans of writing this essay about Ben, she took a sip of the Negroni I'd made her, relaxed her face a little, and said, "You know what you need to make, don't you?" It was obvious to her, but not to me-- Orecchiette with cauliflower. Cauliflower and little ears.

It isn't meant so much as a pun as it is a kind of memento mori-- a dish that I will add to my repertoire so that I might think of Ben from time to time, to remind myself just how short our stay in this world can be, and to make the most of what time I'm lucky enough to have left.

The following is a (very) freely adapted version of Donna Scala's (Bistro Don Giovanni in Napa, California). I've added breadcrumbs, changed the cheese and too many other things to accurately call it hers, but it is from her recipe that I have based mine.

Serves 4 to 6

Ingredients

1 head of cauliflower, broken into florets

1 pound orecchiette pasta

4 to 5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

4 cloves of garlic, minced

1/2 teaspoon crushed red chili flakes

1/4 cup toasted bread crumbs

A generous handful of arugula

3/4 cups Pecorino Romano cheese

Water and salt for boiling pasta and steaming cauliflower

1/4 cup of pasta water, reserved

Preparation:

1. Steam cauliflower florets over boiling, salted water until they are tender-- easily pierced with a fork (about 8 to 9 minutes). Set aside.

2. Bring a large pot of salted water (the water should taste briny, as Ms. Scala says) to a rolling boil. Cook until al dente (8 to 10 minutes). Reserve about 1/4 cup of the water, drain, and keep warm.

3. Heat olive oil in a large skillet. Add garlic and stir until lightly cooked. Add cauliflower and a pinch or two of salt. With the back of a heavy spoon or whatever cooking utensil you are using, lightly mash the florets.

4. Pour the reserved pasta water into skillet and stir in. Add chili flakes and pasta to the pan. Add in arugula and a small fistful of cheese. Toss some more.

5. Transfer to a serving bowl, sprinkle with bread crumbs and the rest of the grated cheese. Serve immediately.

With Halloween around the corner, it’s time to talk about something that really gives kids the creeps. Forget about vampires (those hunky blood suckers) or zombies (they have feelings too). What terrifies many children are cruciferous vegetables. Even the name sounds scary -- sort of like crucify or crucio (for all you Harry Potter fans).

Cruciferous vegetables, also known as brassicaceae, are the ones that hit the market in fall, just in time for Halloween. Cabbage, kale, broccoli, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts are just a few of the commonly unloved veggies that make up this plant variety. Yet although the cruciferae are often sneered at, and even loathed by some, they are hardly villains. Dubbed super vegetables, they are full of antioxidants and vitamins, are thought to have cancer-preventing and fighting agents, and also protect against cardiovascular disease. So, contrary to popular belief, these under appreciated vegetables are actually the heroes of the food world.

Yet as much as I put myself in the role of PR rep for these amazing plants, multitudes of kids (and even some adults) meet a plateful of cauliflower, kale or Brussels sprouts with scrunched up faces and pursed lips. Of course there are many people (adults and children alike) who love all things cruciferous, but I don't think it's farfetched to say these vegetables have a bad rap.

But don't lose heart. If your child has decided she hates all things cruciferous, you can trick her into getting excited about eating them. Don't worry. I'm not suggesting you hide the vegetables (as I am strongly against deceiving kids about food -- Santa Claus, however, is a different matter). Rather, I support getting your children interested in eating these amazing vegetables with their eyes wide open, and some of the little darlings will even come to love them. The younger your kids are, the easier your job. So if your kids are a little older, your task will be more difficult, but with a little effort -- along with a fair amount of Parmesan cheese and bacon -- it's possible to convince your kids that cruciferous vegetables are not only edible, but quite tasty.

Here are a few ways to get your kids to eat all things cruciferous. A few of the items on this list repeat some tips I provided last year, but as they really do work, it's worth mentioning them here again.

• Try roasting your vegetables instead of steaming or boiling them. Roasting allows the natural sugars in the vegetables to caramelize, which makes them more flavorful. It is also a great way to make sure the veggies turn out al dente instead of mushy. And, if you need another incentive, boiling and steaming emit the vegetables natural gassy odors while roasting helps contain the smells.

• Try fun colored vegetables. Right now you can find purple or yellow cauliflower, or those lovely Tuscan ones with spiky cones all over them. Even the most cauliflower-hating kid will be interested in nibbling something purple.

• Buy an entire stalk of Brussels sprouts. It's fun to take the sprouts off the stalk, and you are then left with a long green baton your kids can play with.

• Don't overcook your cruciferous veggies as they are high in gas and cooking them for too long makes them stinky. See if you can get your kids to eat the broccoli or cauliflower raw (with salad dressing or melted cheese if necessary) and then cook the rest al dente.

• Make a creamy soup. When blended with milk or cream and butter, vegetables become much more manageable for kids who reject foods out of hand because of weird textures. So if your child thinks Brussels sprout leaves are slimy, puree them.

• Add bacon and cheese (if you eat these things). Let's face it, everything really does taste better with bacon and cheese. Kale sautéed with bacon or pancetta is truly amazing. And cauliflower baked au gratin with cheese and butter is beyond decadent. Toss in your children's favorite pasta to make the dish even more appealing.

• Take your kids to a garden or farm at picking time. Picking vegetables is fun and kids are far more likely to eat something they got to commune with in the garden. Many local farms have family days where you and your brood can pick to your hearts' content.

• Let your kids pick out your weekly vegetables in the market. Go to a farmer's market if you can as they offer inviting opportunities for your little ones to touch, smell, and even talk with a farmer.

And now for that irresistible purple soup.

Roasted Purple Cauliflower Soup

Serves: 4 people

Ingredients:
1 medium head of purple cauliflower chopped into small florets
1 medium potato chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
1 small onion chopped
3 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup milk (preferably whole milk)
4 Tbsp butter
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Preparation:
1. Lay the cut up cauliflower and potato in a pan. Drizzle on some olive oil, black pepper, and salt (kosher or sea salt preferably). Roast in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes or until you can easily pierce the cauliflower and potato pieces with a fork.
2. In a medium pot, sauté the onion in 2 Tbsp butter until soft. Add in the roasted cauliflower and potato along with the chicken or vegetable stock. Cook until the broth is heated through.
3. Using a hand or stand blender, blend the cauliflower mixture until all chunks are gone and the soup is smooth.
4. Add the mixture back to the pot and mix in the milk. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Bring the soup to a low simmer.
5. Mix in the Parmesan cheese and the remaining 2 Tbsp butter. Serve.

We may not be in a recession yet, but you wouldn't know that from the way we're eating. According to Allrecipes, an online cooking community with over 35 million unique visitors annually, the economic downturn might just be causing Americans to cut back on food spending. Traffic to recipe pages using low-cost ingredients, such as ground beef and pasta, nearly doubled over the past three months. Searches for low cost vs. their high cost counterparts have increased significantly, 74% overall. For example, they noted ground beef had a relative increase of 24% when compared to steak.

Two recent cookbooks can help you make the most of your burger or your steak, regardless of your budget. Recipe of the Week Burgers 52 Easy Recipes for Year-Round Cooking is a fun little book with very creative recipes, for example week 6 is Curried Chicken Burgers with Chutney Mayonnaise and week 16 is Espresso Rubbed Burgers. There are Portobello Burgers, Lamb Burgers, Salmon Burgers and Turkey Burgers. While you may not actually wish to cook a burger a week, there are lots of great ideas for spicing up repertoire. You may never eat a plain old burger again.

The New Steak looks at often overlooked cuts such as skirt, flat iron, hangar and flank steak and discuses all kinds of meaty issues such as Kobe, Wagyu, organic beef and certified Black Angus. Author and blogger Cree LeFavour also pays lavish attention to the side dishes. This would no doubt please my sometimes vegetarian sister-in-law who thinks the sides are the best part of any steakhouse. Corn Griddle Cakes, Avocado Salad and Rum-Glazed Plantains are just a few of her unorthodox choices.

Recipes are divided into four chapters, American Steak, Bistro Steak, Latin Steak and Far East Steak. If you're going to invest in good steak, make the most of it with recipes like Hangar Steak with French Feta, Salsa Verde, and Mint-Zucchini Pancakes or Caribbean Spice Paste-Rubbed Top Sirloin with Lime-Cilantro Crema and Red Beans and Rice. Recipes are incredibly detailed, giving instructions for both pan frying and grilling.

Cauliflower Mash

1 head cauliflower, about 2 pounds
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon kosher salt

Chop off the stem of the cauliflower and break up the remaining florets. Put the cauliflower in a steam basket over water in a pot with a lid. Make sure you have water up to the basket. Bring it to a boil, and cook for 10 to 12 minutes , or until the cauliflower is tender. Drain and coarsely mash the florets with a potato masher before transferring the cooked cauliflower to a food processor. Add the butter and salt and blend until smooth, 1 to 2 minutes. Scrap the mash into a bowl and it's ready to serve.

Reprinted from The New Steak Copyright © 20088 by Cree LeFavour, published by Tenspeed Press.

Curried Crab Cake Burgers
makes 4 burgers

12 ounces crabmeat, very coarsely shredded
1/2 cup panko
1/4 cup mayonnaise or whole milk yogurt
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro leaves
1 tablespoon chopped fresh chives
1 1/2 teaspoons curry powder
1/4 cup all purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 lime, quartered

Place the crabmeat, panko, mayonnaise, cilantro, chive and curry powder in a medium sized bowl and using your hand, mix very gently to combine. Form into 4 patties, cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 4 hours.

Place the flour and salt on a large plate. Dredge each patty in the flour mixture. Place a large skillet over medium-high heat and when it is hot, add the oil. Add the patties and cook until lightly browned, about 4 minutes on each side. Serve immediately with the lime wedges.

Reprinted from Recipe of the Week Burgers, Copyright © 2008 by Sally Sampson, published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.