Baked cauliflower, roasted chicken with pineapple

First my chicken brags all over its bag and now my cauliflower is actually named Braga. Such boastfulness all over the place. 

But I would like thank all the professional people who worked together to bring this excellent plant specimen to my kitchen for me to cook and consume. A whole plant. All that time and attention. Just for me.  I need to thank the nursery men and women who planted these things and cared for them through early stages, the farmers who bought them and planted them in their fields and tended through their season. These plants produce only this one thing. A whole plant for one thing. Tied up to be kept from the sun while the rest of the plant bakes in it and finally harvesting it, the drivers who arrange to transport these very special vegetables to be sorted and processed and delivered to grocers, the grocers who made these available to me, the picker-buyer-driver who delivers them to my front door. You are all awesome. Truly. 

I want butter this time. More so than olive oil.

I want brown sugar this time so the whole thing is not so doggone seriously brassica. 

And spices like nobody's business. Only the friendly ones. None of the harsh ones. 

Two sheets of tin foil folded together into one huge square.

Soft and fork-tender.

Chicken from before. 

 

This is delicious. Both are sweet but differently. I love its sweet layers. The roasted pineapple is excellent. I love the whole thing to pieces. I could easily eat twice this much tonight and I think that I will.

The other half is just sitting there waiting for me to pounce.