Six Seasons

by Joshua McFadden

  Serve in a bowl on its own or ladled over a piece of grilled bread. Finish with a nice drizzle of olive oil on top.

  MORE WAYS:

  Stew with Southern-inflected chicken and sausage: Brown some chicken pieces and some spicy sausage slices in a skillet and then nestle them into the beans and collards. Add a bit more water so the meats are barely covered. Be sure to cook long enough for the chicken to cook thoroughly. Season with some hot sauce.

  Pair with polenta: Make a batch of polenta, seasoning it with Parmigiano and plenty of dried chile flakes so that it’s warmly spicy. Top with the collards and beans and plenty of pot liquor.

  Bake with a crunchy cornbread topping: Pour into a baking dish, crumble cornbread over the top, drizzle with olive oil or dot with butter (or both!), and bake in a hot oven until the topping is browned and crisp on the edges.

  Kale

  For a while there, all the food mags were saying the same thing: “Kale is having a moment.” But that moment has lasted for several years now, and kale shows no sign of losing status. In fact, I think it’s safe to say the leafy green is now firmly entrenched on American plates, both at home and in restaurants—and with good reason.

  Kale can do anything. We typically think of kale as a braising green, because its leaves aren’t as delicate as spinach or lettuce. But by now we all know that braising is just half the story. Almost everyone has encountered, and fallen in love with, some version of kale salad. When thinly sliced and dressed, the raw leaves become tender but still retain a satisfying chew and provide a bitter backdrop that can stand up heroically to bold flavors. I use kale from its earliest young leaves in spring to the more generous leaves of a mature plant, and I especially love the late-season last gasp of the plant—the bolted shoots and flowers called rabe.

  Play with texture. There are three main types of kale, and they vary more in texture than flavor, though lacinato (also called Tuscan kale or cavolo nero) is the sweetest of the bunch. It also has the flattest leaves, making it the easiest to work with. Curly kale is really, really curly, with the most pronounced bitter flavor. Russian kale has magenta stems and lobed leaves, almost like an elongated oak leaf, and the mildest flavor of the bunch. Like other greens, avoid those that are wilted, yellowed, or slimy. They’ll keep in a plastic bag in the fridge for several days.

  Prep is simple. Slice or strip the leaves from the ribs and slice or chop the leaves depending on what you plan to do with them. The ribs are perfectly edible, but too woody to eat raw. They take longer to cook, so chop them up and get them going before you add the leaves, or simply toss them in olive oil and roast them into a crispy snack.

  Slice kale very finely when serving raw—you want it toothy but not tough.

  The Kale Salad That Started It All

  This is the raw kale salad that changed my life. I was the chef de cuisine at Franny’s in Brooklyn back in 2007. I was mad that I couldn’t find good salad greens in the middle of winter, and I especially hated (still hate) the “mesclun mix” that lines the shelves of supermarkets—no flavor, no texture. I created this kale salad in rebellion against those miserable greens, having no idea it would take the world by storm. But once it got written up in the New York Times, the world seemed to have an unending hunger for kale salads!

  » Serves 2 to 4

  1 bunch lacinato kale (aka Tuscan kale or cavolo nero), thick ribs cut out

  ½ garlic clove, finely chopped

  ¼ cup finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese, plus more to finish

  Extra-virgin olive oil

  Juice of 1 lemon

  ⅛ teaspoon dried chile flakes

  Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  ¼ cup Dried Breadcrumbs

  Stack several kale leaves on top of one another and roll them up into a tight cylinder. With a sharp knife, slice crosswise into very thin, about 1⁄16 inch, ribbons (this is called a chiffonade). Put the kale in a salad spinner, rinse in cool water, and spin until completely dry. Pile the kale into a bowl.

  Put the chopped garlic on a cutting board and mince it even more until you have a paste (you can sort of smash and scrape the garlic with the side of the knife as well). Transfer the garlic to a small bowl, add ¼ cup pecorino, a healthy glug of olive oil, the lemon juice, chile flakes, ¼ teaspoon salt, and plenty of twists of black pepper, and whisk to combine.

  Pour the dressing over the kale and toss well to thoroughly combine (you can use your clean hands for this, to be efficient). Taste and adjust with more lemon, salt, chile flakes, or black pepper. Let the salad sit for about 5 minutes so the kale softens slightly. Top with the breadcrumbs, shower with more cheese, and drizzle with more oil.

  In the kitchen A trick to ensure tender kale without long cooking: Freeze the kale raw (and trimmed) for a few hours; freezing will break down the fibers. Cook it straight from the freezer.

  Wilted Kale, Alone or Pickled on Cheese Toast

  I use this agrodolce method with many vegetables, especially leafy greens. I love the layers of flavor you can create and the delicious tension between the sweet and sour, the earthy green kale, and the creamy foil of the whipped cheese on the toast. And of course you bring all those flavors into balance with a proper glug of good extra-virgin olive oil.

  » Serves 2

  3 tablespoons white wine vinegar

  ¼ cup golden raisins

  Extra-virgin olive oil

  1 garlic clove, smashed and peeled

  ½ pound kale (preferably lacinato, aka Tuscan), thick ribs cut out, leaves torn into big pieces

  Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  ¼ teaspoon dried chile flakes

  2 slices bread, grilled

  Whipped Ricotta or fresh sheep or goat cheese

  ¼ cup roughly chopped lightly toasted walnuts

  Put the vinegar and raisins in a little bowl and let the raisins plump for 1 hour.

  Heat ¼ cup olive oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook slowly to toast the garlic so it’s very soft, fragrant, and nicely golden brown—but not burnt—about 5 minutes.

  Add the kale leaves to the pan; if they won’t all fit at once, just add a few handfuls and toss them with tongs until they’re wilted, and then add the rest. Season with salt and black pepper, add a splash of water, and cover the pan. Cook over medium heat until the kale is tender, 8 to 10 minutes. If there is a lot of liquid in the pan at this point, uncover the pan, increase the heat, and boil most of it off. Add the raisins and vinegar and chile flakes and toss well. Taste.

  Remove from the heat, pour in a healthy glug of olive oil, and let the kale cool. This is best served 1 to 2 hours later. It’s also fine to make a day ahead; just be sure to bring it to room temperature.

  Spread the grilled bread with a thick layer of the whipped ricotta or fresh cheese. Top with a juicy mountain of kale and sprinkle the walnuts on top. Finish with a thread of olive oil.

  In the field Plants that can withstand cold temperatures are also those with the deepest colors and most potent nutrients. I learned from greens expert Frank Morton (he was the first farmer to grow the now ubiquitous “mesclun mix”) that leaves of cold-hardy plants contain dissolved solids, including colorful pigments, that act as antifreeze for the plants. So pick winter vegetables with rich color to get a big dose of healthy.

  Kale Sauce with Any Noodle

  This sauce can be made in the same time it takes to cook the pasta, so it’s a perfect midweek dinner or nice weekend lunch. The color is just brilliant, and the flavor is so perfectly balanced. When transferring the kale to the blender, don’t worry about the excess liquid—you may even find a need for another little spoonful of water to get everything moving.

  » Serves 2 as a main dish, 4 as a first course

  Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  2 garlic clove
s, smashed and peeled

  Extra-virgin olive oil

  1 pound kale (any variety, though lacinato is wonderful), thick ribs cut out

  ½ pound pappardelle, rigatoni, or any noodle

  ¾ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

  Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add salt until it tastes like the sea.

  While the water is coming to a boil, put the garlic and ¼ cup olive oil into a small heavy pot or skillet over medium heat and cook until the

  garlic begins to sizzle. Reduce the heat to low and gently cook until the garlic is light golden, soft, and fragrant, 5 to 7 minutes. Pour the oil and garlic into a bowl so it can cool quickly.

  When the water is boiling, add the kale leaves and boil until they are tender but not mushy or overcooked, about 5 minutes. Pull them out with tongs or a slotted spoon and transfer them to a blender. It’s fine if they are still wet.

  Add the pasta to the still-boiling water and cook until al dente according to the package directions. With a ladle or a measuring cup, scoop out about a cup of the pasta water, then drain the noodles.

  Process the kale in the blender with the oil and garlic, adding just a bit of the pasta water to help the process along and to make a nice thick puree. Season with salt and pepper.

  Transfer the drained pasta back to the pot and pour in the kale puree. Add half the Parmigiano and toss well. Add a touch more pasta water and toss until the pasta noodles are well coated with a bright green, creamy-textured sauce. Serve right away with a big drizzle of olive oil and the rest of the cheese.

  Colcannon with Watercress Butter

  Colcannon is a traditional Irish dish mainly consisting of mashed potatoes with kale or cabbage and leeks. I finish mine with a big dollop of watercress butter for some pop. If you find kale still in the market in early spring, make this with Green Garlic Butter instead.

  » Serves 4

  2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks

  1 bunch lacinato kale (aka Tuscan kale or cavolo nero), leaves torn from the stems and then torn into 3-inch pieces

  1 leek, trimmed, halved lengthwise, cleaned well, and cut crosswise into ¼-inch-thick half-moons

  2 tablespoons unsalted butter

  ½ cup heavy cream or crème fraîche

  Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  4 tablespoons Watercress Butter

  Put the potatoes in a large pot of water and add salt until it tastes like the sea. Bring to a boil and cook until they are tender but not mushy, about 15 minutes.

  Add the kale and cook for another minute, then add the leeks and cook everything for another minute, or until all the vegetables are very tender. With a ladle or a measuring cup, scoop out about a cup of the cooking water and drain the vegetables.

  Return the potatoes, kale, and leeks to the pot. Smash everything together and add the unsalted butter and cream. Season with salt and lots of pepper and taste. Place in a bowl piping hot and put the watercress butter right in the middle so it melts and people fight for it at the table.

  In the field The phrase “gone to seed” generally implies something negative, but when the brassicas head that way, I’m positively psyched. Called rabe (or raab), you’ll see them in your garden or at the farmers’ market in spring, from overwintered brassicas like turnip, kale, cabbage, and mizuna. Brassicas will bolt in early fall, too, if you planted them in the spring. While these skinny shoots topped with tiny clusters of florets—and eventually blooming flowers—might look rangy, they are remarkable sweet and tender, with a snappable texture much like an asparagus spear. I eat them raw in salad or I give them a quick sauté. While the flavor of a rabe echoes the plant, any spiciness or bitterness is generally softer.

  Kale and Mushroom Lasagna

  Lighter and more delicate than a typical tomato-and-meat lasagna, this green lasagna is nonetheless bursting with flavor. You could use a mix of cooking greens instead of all kale; just be sure you wilt them until quite tender so the texture harmonizes with the other layers.

  » Serves 6

  6 tablespoons unsalted butter

  ¼ cup all-purpose flour

  2 cups chicken or vegetable broth, homemade or low-sodium store-bought

  1 cup whole or 2% milk

  Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  ¾ pound white or cremini mushrooms, wiped clean and finely chopped

  1 pound kale, thick ribs cut out, leaves cut into very thin strips, rinsed, and shaken dry

  Grated zest of 1 lemon

  1 pound whole-milk ricotta cheese

  One 9-ounce box no-boil lasagna noodles (you may have a few left over)

  1½ cups freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

  Melt 4 tablespoons of the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the flour, stir to make a smooth paste, and cook for a minute or two so the raw flour flavor cooks out. Whisk in the broth and the milk. Bring the mixture (called a velouté) to a boil, whisking to eliminate lumps. Reduce the heat and simmer for 5 minutes to thicken slightly. Season lightly with salt and pepper (if you’ve used store-bought broth, remember that it can be salty).

  Melt the remaining 2 tablespoons butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When the sizzling stops, add the mushrooms, season with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring and scraping the pan, until all the moisture from the mushrooms has been released and evaporated and they begin to brown and stick a bit to the pan, 10 to 12 minutes. Scrape into a bowl and let cool slightly.

  Return the skillet to medium-high heat, add the kale, season lightly with salt, and cook, tossing frequently, until the kale is wilted and very tender, 12 to 15 minutes. You may need to add a few splashes of water along the way if the pan gets dry. Taste and adjust the seasoning with more salt and some pepper.

  Stir the lemon zest into the ricotta in a bowl.

  Heat the over to 375°F. To assemble the lasagna, spread a bit less than half the velouté in an even layer on the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch baking dish. Arrange the lasagna noodles in an even layer, breaking the noodles to fit as needed. Spread the mushrooms evenly over the noodles and then top with the kale, distributing it evenly.

  Arrange a second layer of noodles, then top with evenly spaced dollops of the ricotta. Gently spread the dollops to make an even layer without disturbing the noodles. Add one more layer of noodles, top with the remaining velouté, and sprinkle the Parmigiano over the top.

  Bake until the cheese is golden brown and the juices are bubbling around the edges, 40 to 50 minutes. Let the lasagna cool for at least 20 minutes before cutting and serving.

  In the kitchen The mushroom mixture used here is called a duxelles. It’s a handy flavor bomb that you can add to omelets, pastas, stuffed chicken breasts, or anywhere that you’d like a hit of mellow umami.

  Mushrooms

  Meaty porcinis, delicate chanterelles, frilly hen-of-the-woods, sexy truffles. Wild mushrooms are a constant source of inspiration for me, and since you can’t farm them into being, they always seem like a gift from the weather gods. You’ll find wild mushrooms in the spring as well as fall, but I’m addressing them in the fall section of this book as I think their woodsy flavors work best in hearty, cool-weather dishes. That being said, reliable, versatile, cultivated mushrooms like creminis always have a place in my kitchen.

  Plump, not wizened. Mushrooms contain a lot of water, so if they’re looking at all wrinkly and dried out, you know they’re over the hill. But you don’t want them to be wet and slimy, either. Plump and fresh is what you’re going for, with no bruises or browning, which is why I try to avoid wild mushrooms foraged during a rainy week: They’re waterlogged. Store mushrooms in the fridge in a paper bag. Plastic bags encourage condensation, which leads to rot.

  To wash or not to wash? Wild mushrooms grow in meadows or forests, and cultivated mushrooms grow i
n a sterile medium that’s sort of like soil, so both types of mushroom will have a few things clinging to them. But rinsing isn’t a good option. Mushrooms are like sponges and they’ll soak up the water and become even more water-filled than they naturally are. So just take a damp cloth or paper towel and wipe off any obvious bits of nature and leave it at that. The only exception is the morel, which has a honeycombed cap that harbors lots of grit. With morels, you should rinse them and then carefully pat dry.

  Most mushroom stems are perfectly wonderful to eat, so all you need to do is trim off the dried end. The one exception is the shiitake. Shiitake stems are very fibrous and not great to eat, though they are delicious in stock or as the base for Mushroom Butter.

  When cooking those massive portobellos, it’s sometimes a good idea to scrape away the black gills under the cap, as they add a lot of moisture.

  Blast them with heat. No matter what you plan to use mushrooms in, they’ll offer the most flavor if you cook the moisture out of them first. To do that, you need to cook them in a generous amount of fat over high heat in a single layer until browned on both sides. But don’t crowd the pan or they’ll just steam. It’s the same technique you’d use when searing chunks of beef for a stew.

  In the kitchen Mushrooms can be like little sponges, holding on to lots of water, which can make it tough to brown and crisp them. To remove some of that water, arrange your mushrooms on a tray lined with paper towels and leave them in the refrigerator, uncovered, overnight.

  Double-Mushroom Toast with Bottarga

  Bottarga is a salted and cured fish roe, usually mullet but sometimes tuna. Finely grated or sliced, use it as a salty, intensely umami-ish seasoning. Mushrooms are also high in natural glutamates—compounds that contribute to the delicious intensity of umami—creating a doubly savory, meaty umami dish. If you can’t find bottarga, substitute grated Parmigiano-Reggiano.