Brussels sprouts taste delicious when cooked with the right recipe – just five ingredients

They’re just misunderstood. Treat them right, and those tiny green bulbs go from sulphurous side dish to crackly, caramelised stars — with only five ingredients.

I watched a tray of halved sprouts come out of a pub kitchen on a Tuesday night, steam fogging the pass as the chef finished them with lemon over the metal. A couple at the bar leaned in, surprised. One sprout rolled loose, catching a lick of heat and going glossy at the edges, like a sweet. The smell wasn’t cabbagey at all — it was toasted, nutty, with a whisper of something savoury from the sauce that clung to the leaves. The barman pinched one, blew on it, and swore softly after the first bite, the way people do when they didn’t expect much and got fireworks. The chef grinned without looking up. “Takes five things,” he said. Nothing more.

Sprouts don’t have to taste bitter

The bad reputation started in school halls and at Christmas tables, where sprouts were boiled into a damp surrender. That kills texture, and it locks bitter notes into the heart of the vegetable. High heat and contrast change everything. When a sprout hits a hot tray cut-side down, the natural sugars on the surface caramelise faster than the inner layers can overcook.

If you want a picture in your head, think of a roast potato’s golden top in miniature. The difference is that sprouts bring their own nutty depth, if you let them brown properly. At around 150–160°C on the surface, new flavours form; push them towards 200°C in the oven and you get the crispy curls everyone fights over.

There’s a science-y reason this works. Sprouts are mostly water and natural carbohydrates, with sulphur compounds that can read as harsh when steamed to exhaustion. Dry heat drives off moisture fast, concentrates sweetness, and melts those tightly packed layers just enough. Add saltiness, a touch of sugar, and acid to wake it up — that’s the five-ingredient trick — and the bitterness tucks itself into the background like a bass note.

The five-ingredient method that just works

Here’s the method straight from that pub tray: Brussels sprouts, olive oil, soy sauce, maple syrup, lemon. That’s it. Work in this order. Preheat a tray in the oven at 220°C (200°C fan), so it’s ripping hot. Halve 700g sprouts and pull off any tired outer leaves. In a bowl, toss with 2 tbsp olive oil, 1 tbsp soy and 1 tbsp maple until every cut face glistens.

Tip onto the hot tray, cut-side down in a single layer. Don’t crowd them. Roast 16–20 minutes until the undersides are deep brown and the leaves around the edges are frilly and crisp. Pull the tray, zest half a lemon right over the sprouts, then squeeze in a little juice and toss. The soy stands in for salt, the maple balances, the lemon lifts. This is the tray that converts sprout sceptics.

There are a few places people trip. They don’t preheat the tray. They wash sprouts last minute and leave them wet, which steams instead of roasts. Or they stir too early and lose the crust. Be kind to yourself. We’ve all been there, poking at vegetables as if rearranging them might make them cook faster. **Leave them alone for the first 12 minutes.** The cut face needs contact with heat to char. Then taste one before you finish with lemon, because tiny sprouts cook quicker than big lads.

Sprouts have a personality, and they like bold company. Soy brings umami, maple brings sheen and a sweet flicker, lemon brightens the whole scene. **Cut-side down equals crisp.** That’s the non-negotiable. The rest? Play a little. If you like it punchier, go a touch heavier on soy and lemon, lighter on maple. If you like it gentle, keep the maple where it is and let the lemon do more of the talking.

“Roast them hotter than you think, finish with something sharp, and don’t apologise for a few almost-burnt edges,” said the chef, sliding another tray into the heat.

• Swap ideas: tamari instead of soy; honey instead of maple; lime instead of lemon.
• Texture boost: keep a handful of loose outer leaves — they turn into sprout crisps.
• Make it a meal: add a fried egg on top or spoon over warm grains.
• Heat lovers: a pinch of chilli flakes, stirred in with the lemon, sings.

From side dish to main character

Some foods feel like background actors. Sprouts get cast that way, then they steal scenes when you actually let them. Toss your roasted tray through cooked pasta with a knob of butter, or pile them onto toast with ricotta and black pepper. **Five ingredients, one hot tray, and you have range.** Let’s be honest: nobody roasts vegetables every night, but when you do, it can be the most satisfying ten minutes of your week.

The joy is in the rhythm. Cut, toss, roast, finish. Two steps quick, one step patient, one step bright. You can chat, pour a glass, set the table while the oven does the heavy lifting. On a grey weeknight, that simplicity feels like a small, private luxury — the kind that clears the day from your head with the first crunch. Share the tray at the table and watch hands drift back for more, almost embarrassed at how much they want another piece.

FAQ :

• Can I use frozen Brussels sprouts?Yes. Thaw and pat very dry first, then roast as above. They’ll brown, just give them a couple of extra minutes.
• What if I don’t have maple syrup?Use honey in the same amount. Golden syrup works too, with a slightly deeper sweetness.
• Why do my sprouts still taste bitter?You likely under-browned them or skipped the acid. Roast until the cut face is properly dark, then add lemon.
• Pan or oven — which is better?Oven is easier for even browning. A hot pan works brilliantly too; don’t move them for the first 4–5 minutes.
• Can I prep them ahead?Yes. Halve, toss in oil, soy and maple, then chill up to a day. Roast straight from cold and finish with lemon.