Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's brussels sprouts recipes

I am quite aware that for some of you this is going to be a tough sell, but please hear me out. This week, you see, I'm spouting about sprouts in an effort to convince the wary that brussels sprouts aren't just for Christmas, they're for life – or at least for that cold and frosty bit of life that runs between late autumn and early spring.

I know that for many people unhappy memories of sprouts past linger like a kind of Proustian anti-madeleine. But I'm convinced the effects can be reversed. Boiled to oblivion, they are indeed depressing. But cooked correctly, brussels sprouts are sweetly, toothsomely tender and delicious.

Why were they ever so abused? And still are? It's surely part of a secret conspiracy designed to keep the precious bonsai cabbages for some malevolent sprout overlord and his sinister followers. That'll be me, I guess…

Honestly, I really do look forward to my first, frost-sweetened sprouts of the year. (Though, if I'm completely honest, perhaps not quite so much as I look forward to the first broad beans, though that may just be because they often come with a side order of sunshine.) I treat sprouts tenderly, boiling or steaming them until they're cooked but still retain a little bite – about six minutes should do it for small, walnut-sized sprouts, which are the ones we're hankering after here anyway. The other benefit of choosing small sprouts – apart from their superior flavour – is that you don't have to bother with that fiddly nonsense of cutting crosses in their bases to ensure that they cook evenly.

Then it's often just a case of tossing the cooked sprouts in melted butter or olive oil with plenty of black pepper and/or some chilli flakes, if you're feeling daring. To draw attention to how much you care for them, a scattering of toasted almonds or golden, fried breadcrumbs is a nice touch. And for more adventurous seasoning still, it makes sense to incline towards the things that so successfully accompany their big cousin, the cabbage – namely nutmeg, juniper, garlic, fennel or caraway seeds, salty smoked or unsmoked bacon, lemon zest or juice and chestnuts, all of which work very well with sprouts, too.

If you love sprouts as I do, you may even fancy trying to grow your own next year. Yes, they take up a bit of space in the veg plot, but apart from that they're really not a very demanding crop. The advantage of growing your own is that by carefully choosing your varieties, you can spread the sprout love from autumn until early spring. At River Cottage, we grow Noisette and Groninger to enjoy in November and early December; Seven Hills to tuck into over Christmas; and Wellington and the beautiful, amethyst Winter Rubine to enjoy during the last, frosty glimmers of winter.

We start our sprouts undercover between February and April, nestled into Jiffy pots. Then, when the weather begins to cheer up a bit in early summer, we plant them out about 60cm apart. Water them well during dry patches and keep a beady eye out for cabbage whites and slugs, picking them off as you see them. If you play your cards right, you'll have a plentiful supply between November and March.

The other advantage of growing your own is that you get to enjoy the sprout tops, too – that is, the sheltering crown of foliage at the top of the plant. Sprout tops make pretty good cut-and-come-again greens provided you take just a few at a time during the growing season. Their taste is something between cabbage and brussels sprouts, and they're very tasty shredded and either tossed in butter or added to stews, rather as you would with the posher, more glamorous cavalo nero.

If, on the other hand, you're buying your brussels, look for small, tight, bright green sprouts with no hint of yellow about them. I'm a big fan of sprouts sold on the stem – an innovation started in farmers' markets and now adopted by greengrocers and even some supermarkets. This practice helps keep them fresh, because the sprouts continue to "live" off the nutrients in the stem.

However you buy them, though, your sprouts should smell sweet and appealing, not pungently cabbage-y – that means they've been hanging about a bit too long. Cook them as soon as you can, and as swiftly as you can, to enjoy them at their tender and enchanting best.

Brussels sprout salad

Raw brussels sprouts have such terrific flavour and crunch, it's surprising that we don't enjoy them raw more often. Chose the freshest, smallest sprouts you can for this tasty winter salad. These quantities serve one to two.

50g hazelnuts, preferably skin on
150g brussels sprouts, trimmed, discoloured outer leaves removed
Zest of 1 lemon
Juice of ½ lemon
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
Good pinch of chilli flakes
1-2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
80g young, fresh goat's cheese
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Scatter the hazelnuts on a baking sheet and roast in the oven until fragrant and browned – about nine to 11 minutes. Remove from the oven, wrap in a clean tea towel and leave for a minute. Rub vigorously in the tea towel – this will remove the browned skins.

Cut the prepared brussels sprouts from top to root into slices about the thickness of a 50p piece. Put these into a bowl and toss with the lemon zest and juice, thyme leaves, chilli flakes, and a tablespoon of oil, and season with salt and pepper. Taste and add more olive oil, lemon juice and/or chilli flakes as desired.

Arrange on a plate, scatter the hazelnuts over and around and crumble on the goat's cheese. Trickle over a little more olive oil and serve immediately.

Roasted brussels sprouts with shallots and caraway seeds

This makes a delicious and easy side dish – the earthiness of the brussels sprouts combines wonderfully with the sweetness of the shallots. If you like, add a handful or two of peeled, cooked chestnuts to the mix, too. Serves four.

750g brussels sprouts, trimmed
200g small shallots, peeled but left whole
3 tbsp olive oil
½ tsp caraway seeds
Flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Tip the sprouts into a bowl along with the shallots, olive oil and caraway seeds, and season generously with salt and pepper. Tip the lot into a roasting tin and roast for about 40 minutes, until the sprouts are crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. Shake the pan from time to time, so that everything cooks evenly. Season the cooked sprouts with a little more salt and serve immediately.

Creamed brussels sprouts with bacon

One of my favourite converter dishes, designed to turn many a sprout hater into a sprout lover. Serve it as an accompaniment to roasts or as a supper dish on its own. Serves six as a side dish, or two as a main course.

500g brussels sprouts, trimmed
20g butter
2 tbsps double cream
4-6 rashers streaky bacon, each cut into 5-6 strips
1 tsp groundnut oil
200g peeled, cooked chestnuts, roughly chopped

Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil, and cook the sprouts in it until just tender – this should take no more than about six to eight minutes. Drain, then tip into the bowl of a food processor along with the butter and cream. Pulse until you have a rough, creamy purée.

Fry the bacon in the oil until crisp. Scrape the creamed sprouts into a saucepan with a spatula, stir in the chestnut pieces and gently heat through. Spoon into a warmed dish, sprinkle over the crispy bacon bits and serve at once.