On the night of December 21, 2006 I arrived in Glasgow, Scotland. Young, American, and excited to connect with the romantic stories of my Scottish ancestors. I decided to try couch-surfing for the first time, which resulted in staying in a not so romantic flat near Kelvingrove Park with three not so romantic Scotsmen. Being the holidays, we attended holiday party night after night, experiencing the tradition of Christmas crackers and a lot of drunken “I can’t understand a word these English speaking guys are saying”. On my last night in town, two nights before Christmas day, we ended up at a potluck, I can’t remember for the life of me what I brought (probably beer), but I do remember the highlight of the feast, roasted brussels sprouts. I had never tasted brussels sprouts before that night, but the host insisted that I try some because “I was never going to taste brussels sprouts like those again”. Like the first time I tasted a tomato fresh off the vine, these brussels sprouts were one of the culinary experiences I will never forget. Enough of my reminiscing, onto the recipe!