I’ll eat raw peas by the handful or munch my way through asparagus stalks. When cooking for guests and friends, I do as little as possible to these early arrivals, usually nothing more than a light dressing with extra-virgin olive oil, some lemon or vinegar, salt, and pepper. Okay, and maybe some Parmigiano-Reggiano.
After a few weeks of reveling in pristine spring vegetables, I’m ready to bring in some heat and a few more ingredient partners. As the season progresses and the weather warms, some of the early vegetables become perhaps a touch more fibrous or starchy and therefore benefit from cooking and more creative treatments.
Recipes of Spring
Raw Artichoke Salad with Herbs, Almonds, and Parmigiano
Artichoke and Farro Salad with Salami and Herbs
Grilled Artichokes with Artichoke-Parmigiano Dip
Raw Asparagus Salad with Breadcrumbs, Walnuts, and Mint
Asparagus, Nettle, and Green Garlic Frittata
Asparagus, Garlic Chives, and Pea Shoots, with or without an Egg
Grilled Asparagus with Fava Beans and Walnuts
Vignole
English Pea Toast
English Pea and Pickled Carrot Salsa Verde
English Peas with Prosciutto and New Potatoes
Pasta Carbonara with English Peas
Couscous with English Peas, Apricots, and Lamb Meatballs
Smashed Fava Beans, Pecorino, and Mint on Toast
Fava, Farro, Pecorino, and Salami Salad
Fava and Pistachio Pesto on Pasta
Fava Beans, Cilantro, New Potatoes, and Baked Eggs
“Herbed” Butter with Warm Bread
Little Gems with Lemon Cream, Spring Onion, Radish, and Mint
Butter Lettuce with New Potatoes, Eggs, and Pancetta Vinaigrette
Bitter Greens Salad with Melted Cheese
Sautéed Greens with Olives (Misticanza)
Agrodolce Ramps on Grilled Bread
Leeks with Anchovy and Soft-Boiled Eggs
Charred Scallion Salsa Verde
Onions Three Ways, with ’Nduja on Grilled Bread
Radishes with Tonnato, Sunflower Seeds, and Lemon
Grilled Radishes with Dates, Apples, and Radish Tops
Roasted Radishes with Brown Butter, Chile, and Honey
Sugar Snap Peas with Pickled Cherries and Peanuts
Sugar Snap Peas with Mustard Seeds and Tarragon
Sugar Snap Pea and New Potato Salad with Crumbled Eggand Sardines
Pasta alla Gricia with Slivered Sugar Snap Peas
Crispy Sugar Snap Peas with Tonnato and Lemon
Artichokes
Artichokes are huge and imposing, all prickly leaves, spiny buds (the artichokes themselves), and, when not harvested in time, gorgeous purple flowers. Hand in hand with that grandeur goes the fact that artichokes are a royal pain. Steamed whole and eaten leaf by leaf, an artichoke is simple to prepare, but if you want to incorporate the succulent flesh from the base and stem into another dish, be ready to do some work. The fact that fresh artichokes require effort is part of why I love them—I make it a spring ritual.
Two crops per year. Most of the artichokes sold in the United States are grown in California and are at their peak season from March through May, but locally grown examples may arrive later in the summer. Fall usually brings a second crop, and by then I’m usually ready for another challenge. The early spring artichokes are my favorites, however, because the slow grow through a cool winter makes the base and stem grow thick and meaty.
The big green globe artichoke is what most commercial farms grow, but local farms may offer some Italian varieties, usually tinged with purple or maroon, smaller, and with more open, upright leaves. I find that Italian artichokes, such as Violetta di Chiogga, have a deeper, sweeter flavor.
From tip to bottom. Artichoke terminology can be misleading. Technically the “heart” of the artichoke is the center portion, which includes the inedible choke. But the term “artichoke heart” has come to mean an artichoke that has been trimmed and had the choke removed. The cup-shaped base of the artichoke is all meat and is delicious simply dipped in melted butter (or one of my mayonnaises) or cut away from the leaves and cooked independently. Whatever you do, don’t throw it away!
Baby artichokes are misnamed as well, not being babies at all but simply small artichokes that form lower down on the plant’s stalk. They are more tender, however. All artichokes will keep in the fridge for up to a week loosely wrapped in a plastic bag, but be sure they are dry before wrapping, because they are prone to mold.
Prepping the heart. Start by pulling and snapping off the darker outer leaves until you reach the pale green-yellow tender inner leaves. Slice off the top inch or so—the tender lower leaves, the saucer-shaped base, and the stem are the edible portions of the artichoke.
Take a look at the stem—some artichokes have stems of several inches, others just have a stub of a stem. In any case, the stem itself is succulent and sweet, though the outside is fibrous. If the recipe has you leave the stem on, peel the outer layers with a paring knife or vegetable peeler.
Next, with a sharp paring knife, pare away any dark green or tough leaf ends from the bottom and sides of the artichoke base. You’re sort of sculpting it into a smooth form. At this point, you will either halve the artichoke lengthwise or leave it whole—follow the recipe.
Pry open the tender leaves that remain and scoop out the hairy choke from the top of the base with a spoon, slice it away with a paring knife, or use a melon baller. Rub the base all over with some lemon juice. You’re now ready to move to the next step in the recipe.
Raw Artichoke Salad with Herbs, Almonds, and Parmigiano
Don’t even try this salad unless you have very early artichokes, the first ones to show up in the spring markets. As with all spring vegetables, the still-cold nights help the artichoke’s sugars develop for the best flavor; and because they are smaller, young artichokes are less fibrous and more tender . . . but only if you slice them very fine.
» Serves 2
2 early-season artichokes
2 lemons, halved
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon dried chile flakes
¼ cup lightly packed mint leaves
¼ cup lightly packed flat-leaf parsley leaves
¼ cup lightly packed chives cut into 2-inch lengths
¼ cup chive blossoms (if you can find them)
½ cup roughly chopped toasted almonds
15 to 20 shavings Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (shaved with a vegetable peeler)
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
Pull and snap off the darker outer leaves of the artichokes until you reach the pale green-yellow tender inner leaves. Slice off the top third of the artichoke. Trim the very end of the stem and then peel the outer layers of the stem with a paring knife or vegetable peeler. (The outer layer of the stem is super fibrous but the inner, lighter heart is sweet and succulent.)
Slice the whole artichoke in half lengthwise (don’t use a carbon-steel knife, or the artichoke will discolor) and rub the whole exterior with one of the lemon halves. Scoop out the hairy choke with a spoon, or slice it away with a paring knife. Squeeze some lemon juice into the choke space.
Place an artichoke half cut side down on the work surface and slice it lengthwise as thinly as you can. If you have a mandoline slicer, this is the perfect time to use it. Repeat with the other artichoke halves.
Put the sliced artichokes in a bowl. Squeeze in the juice of the remaining 3 lemon halves (try to retrieve and discard the seeds!) and add ½ teaspoon salt, lots of twists of black pepper, the chile flakes, mint, parsley, chives, chive blossoms (if using), almonds, and Parmigiano and toss. Taste and adjust the seasoning so the salad is lively and well balanced, then drizzle with the olive oil. Toss the salad again, taste, and s
erve.
Trimming the fibrous exterior to reveal the sweet center of the stem
Artichoke and Farro Salad with Salami and Herbs
I call this dish the “man snack,” because the salami adds a meaty edge that makes it almost like an Italian hoagie. I wish I could find a bowl of it every time I open my fridge. You could use another grain such as freekeh in this salad, but farro is dense and chewy and doesn’t absorb too much dressing. You end up tasting the grain as well as the other ingredients.
» Serves 4
2 cups cooked Farro
Extra-virgin olive oil
3 ounces thinly sliced salami, cut into half- or quarter-moons
½ large red onion, very thinly sliced
White wine vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Dried chile flakes
4 poached artichoke quarters
½ cup lightly packed flat-leaf parsley leaves
½ cup lightly packed basil leaves
½ cup lightly packed mint leaves
¼ cup Dried Breadcrumbs
Drain the farro well, dump it onto a baking sheet, toss with a small glug of olive oil, and spread it out to cool.
Pile the farro, salami, and onion into a bowl and season with ¼ cup vinegar. Taste and add salt, lots of twists of black pepper, and a few chile flakes. Add the artichokes, parsley, basil, and mint. Toss, taste again, and adjust with more salt, chile flakes, or vinegar. Finish by tossing with ¼ cup olive oil and sprinkling with the breadcrumbs.
In the field Good soil contributes to good flavor, of course, but Oregon farmer Anthony Boutard actually seasons his soil in the way I season the food in my kitchen. He recalls from childhood the bright flavor of the artichokes from Castroville, California, which he attributes to the Pacific winds that brought a trace of salt to the crops.
Grilled Artichokes with Artichoke-Parmigiano Dip
The dish is an example of something I love to do when I cook—doubling up to use the same ingredient in two ways. Here I grill some of the artichokes and then turn the others into the dip.
» Serves 4
3 lemons
6 medium early-season artichokes
4 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
2 teaspoons dried chile flakes
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
Kosher salt
1½ cups crème fraîche
3 or 4 dashes Tabasco sauce
¼ cup lightly packed finely sliced chives
¼ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
Extra-virgin olive oil
¼ cup lightly packed roughly chopped flat-leaf parsley
Cut one of the lemons in half and cut one half into 4 wedges to serve with the artichokes. Using a rasp-style grater, zest the remaining 2 lemons and set the zest aside. Halve the zested lemons and set 2 halves aside for the dip; the remaining lemon halves are for the artichoke prep.
Trim all the artichokes and slice lengthwise into quarters. Rub the exteriors with a lemon half. Scoop out the hairy center—the choke. Squeeze some lemon juice into the choke space.
Poach the artichokes: Put 3 of the garlic cloves, the chile flakes, coriander seeds, and vinegar into a large pot (big enough to hold 2 of the trimmed artichokes). Add 2 quarts water and bring to a simmer. Once it’s simmering, add 2 teaspoons salt. This is called a court bouillon, and it should taste well seasoned and like all of the ingredients in the pot. Take it off the heat and let it cool down.
Add 8 of the artichoke quarters to the court bouillon (reserve the remainder for grilling) and bring up to a simmer. Poach until they are fully tender, 10 to 15 minutes. You can check by poking the stem with the tip of a knife, like you would a potato.
Drain the artichokes well on a rack, and when they’re cool enough to handle, blot with paper towels so they are quite dry.
make the dip: Very finely chop the artichokes and place them in a large bowl. Add the crème fraîche, along with half the reserved lemon zest, the juice from 2 lemon halves, the Tabasco sauce, chives, Parmigiano, and salt to taste. Taste and adjust the seasoning so that it’s savory and balanced, and then whisk in ¼ cup olive oil to make the dip rich and creamy. Taste again and add more salt, Tabasco, or lemon if you like.
grill the artichokes: Heat a grill, a grill pan, or a heavy skillet over high heat. Add a slick of olive oil and the remaining garlic clove to flavor the oil (skip this if you’re using an actual grill). Lay the remaining 16 artichoke quarters in the pan and grill on all sides until nicely browned and starting to crisp around the edges, about 10 minutes total. You may need to do this in batches or in two pans.
Transfer the grilled artichoke quarters to a platter, shower with the parsley, the rest of the lemon zest, and a drizzle of olive oil. Serve warm or at room temperature with the artichoke dip and lemon wedges for squeezing.
Trimming small artichokes to get to the heart
Asparagus
Once asparagus starts showing up at your farmers’ market, you know winter is officially over. Hallelujah. And though you likely don’t need much prodding to load up on those tender green stalks, keep in mind that asparagus really does have a short window of seasonality. While you may find imported asparagus in your grocery store year-round, local asparagus cannot be coaxed to grow beyond six weeks or so—all the more reason to cherish it.
Prep. Asparagus is an obliging vegetable that doesn’t need much prep at all. The one thing you need to do is remove the lower portion of the stalk, which is usually very fibrous and no fun to eat. Some people like to bend the stalk and let it snap at the natural spot where it goes from fibrous to succulent. A quicker way to do that is to choose one stalk from the bunch, bend it until it snaps at that sweet spot, and then line up the rest of the stalks and simply cut them at about the same point.
Size doesn’t matter. You should choose your asparagus by how crisp and juicy it is, not by how thin or thick. Thinner spears are not necessarily more tender or less fibrous than big fat spears, they are simply skinny. An asparagus plant will produce thin, medium, and thick spears at the same time; spear diameter doesn’t relate to age. Whatever size you prefer, look for tightly closed tips and cut ends that don’t look too dried out or woody. I cook with green and purple varieties; their flavors will be the same, so it’s a matter of color. I love mixing purple and green in a salad of thinly sliced asparagus to get a jumble of colors on the plate. Store your asparagus in a loosely closed plastic bag in the refrigerator and use it pronto, especially if you’re going to serve it raw.
Try them raw. When you’re ready to cook with it . . . don’t. Honestly, if you can get first-of-the-season asparagus, forgo cooking and serve it raw, very thinly sliced on an angle (see opposite). The juicy-crisp texture and sweet grassy flavor are spring turned into a mouthful, and you should experience it while you can. Once my initial crush on asparagus has faded a bit, I’ll cook it a number of ways: pan-steaming, roasting, grilling, or incorporating into other dishes. The only wrong way to cook it is to overcook it. Mushy asparagus is a sin.
Raw Asparagus Salad with Breadcrumbs, Walnuts, and Mint
Make this dish before you do any cooked asparagus dishes, at the start of the season when you get pristine spears. At first glance, the dish looks kind of “meh,” but once you taste it, the flavor and texture blow you away. Be sure to cut the asparagus very thin.
» Serves 4
⅓ cup Dried Breadcrumbs
½ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
½ cup finely chopped lightly toasted walnuts
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Dried chile flakes
1 pound asparagus, tough ends trimmed
About ¼ cup fresh lemon juice
&n
bsp; ¼ cup lightly packed mint leaves
Extra-virgin olive oil
Put the breadcrumbs, Parmigiano, walnuts, and lemon zest in a large bowl. Add 1 teaspoon salt, a bunch of twists of black pepper, and ½ teaspoon chile flakes. Toss to combine everything.
Cut the asparagus on a sharp angle into very thin slices and add to the crumb mixture. Add ¼ cup lemon juice and toss some more. Taste and dial in the flavors by adding more salt, black pepper, chile flakes, or lemon juice.
When the flavors are bright and delicious, add the mint and ¼ cup olive oil and toss. Taste and adjust again, and serve.
Asparagus, Nettle, and Green Garlic Frittata
Nettles—also known as stinging nettles—need special handling, because they do indeed “sting.” The wild-growing spring green is coated with tiny needlelike hairs, which can cause a very painful reaction if you touch them with your bare hands. I usually just grab them with tongs, but you can also wear gloves or slide a plastic bag over your hand when picking them up. Miraculously, however, once they are cooked, the sting is totally gone and what remains is a lovely green, almost spinachy—a beautiful partner to asparagus.
» Serves 4
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 stalks green garlic or spring onions, trimmed (including ½ inch off the green tops), thinly sliced
½ pound asparagus, tough ends trimmed, cut on a sharp angle into very thin slices
About 4 big handfuls nettles—but don’t pick them up with your hands!
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
6 eggs
¼ cup crumbled feta cheese
Heat the broiler.
Melt the butter in a 10-inch ovenproof skillet over medium heat. Add the green garlic and cook until it begins to soften, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the asparagus and sauté until it is crisp-tender, another 3 to 4 minutes.
Six Seasons Page 8