It’s the eve of spring, and I am so ready to kick off these rainboots and flip-flop in the sun! As well as invite edible tokens of warmer days finally come into the kitchen — ramps, fiddleheads, spring onions, asparagus and sweet cherries. But though we’ve turned back the clocks for Daylight Savings, it’s still very much in-between seasons, at the Greenmarket. So instead, I’m stuck rummaging through yesterday’s winter harvest, like (yawn) apples and pears. Seems about time to give them a little warm-weather makeover, to depart from those tarts and pies. Here’s one way I discovered recently: as a refreshing, frosty treat.
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If there’s one thing I learned from the Souperama this weekend, it’s that a big batch of soup is meant to be enjoyed by many. And, okay, sixteen batches of them, even better. But more importantly, I was reminded of this altruistic goal when it comes to cooking anything in large portion (and really, who’s going to make one bowl of soup?): to try to create something that’s kosher for almost any diet, sway or fancy, and still make it delicious for all. It can also be a fun creative challenge. And for someone who happens to have a handful of vegetarian friends, making split pea soup without ham sounded like a challenge, indeed.
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There are so many things you can do with fennel, that I don’t know where to begin. Slivered and sauteed just like onions creates a caramelized, anise-tasting substitute in a savory beef stew. You can lop off the stalks, which most people sadly don’t use, and chop them up like celery to use instead of that, in soup and stock. The fronds are mild-tasting, but they make a distinct, sweet garnish that makes me wonder why I haven’t steeped them in milk for ice cream, or dried some of the stuff up for tea. But before we get to those things, here’s the most basic, popular way to enjoy fennel: slicing the bulb for a crunchy, refreshing salad.
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Join us at Jimmy’s No. 43 for a really warm charity event. The 1st annual NYC Souperama, to benefit Harbor Hope and the Fresh Air Fund, is going to be hot. What better way to escape the wintery mix of slush and snow than slurping up ladles of homemade soup, and craft beer? And, chefs are still welcome to sign up so get your stockpots out and throw in whatever’s leftover (my favorite thing to do on a winter weekend).
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All too often, I hear the same question from home cooks: what do I do with fish? Not terribly much, is usually my answer. And as soon as you bring your catch home. But while most of us know that fresh fish is best at its freshest, the simple feat of cooking it deliciously has evaded some. So I’m going to share my latest favorite preparation, an unlikely hybrid of hearty winter vegetables and summery lightness.
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There’s squash soup, and then there’s squash soup without milk or cream. You could say I’m making an exaggeration by placing such a disparity between the two sister soups, but then I’ve never had a dairy-less version of squash soup until I made it at home. That is, if you don’t count the “butter” inherent in the squash’s name.
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I’ve gone grain crazy as of lately. There are so many different types of them to explore. It started with a pack of bulgur, coarse grinds of whole wheat with a muddy tan color and toothsome, chewy texture. If you like wild rice, you’ll find some similarities here. Then I went freaky for smoky roasted spelt, also known as freekeh. Now I can’t get Missy Elliot out of my head.
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You know how salads in restaurants tend to have eight things in them, at least? Or else, it’s not really a salad, it seems. One of those ingredients is usually cheese; another is usually nuts (and it’s usually crusted with something sweet). There’s often meat, grilled and served hot in contrast with the cool greens. It gets more complicated, too. Dried or fresh fruit, oily crusts of bread or croutons, dressings that are an army of ingredients in themselves, and so many types of mixed lettuces when you couldn’t identify one by name.
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Ever had a really good, juicy carrot? Not the kind that’s all white and dehydrated like your skin in the winter, I mean a plump, bursting balloon of sweetness, with a few wisps of fuzzy roots and wrinkles, maybe, but a thin skin that betrays its more-orange-than-an-orange flesh? Thankfully, I have. And it’ll never be forgotten. Granted, I can eat carrots any way, shape or form: raw, cooked, juiced, shredded or mashed — and yes, wispy and dry as my skin right now, too. But it’s a whole other level of enjoyment when the ingredient is at its prime.
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Sometimes the simplest things really are the best. I’d planned to cook, eat, and write about an elaborate dish on my day off. It would be exciting, colorful, and completely novel. It would also somehow incorporate soaked and mostly-cooked white beans, which I had leftover. After a morning of deliberation and preparation, it was done: sour citrus wedges, briny olives and mealy white beans, unexpectedly brought to congress with plenty drizzles of olive oil. But once it was photographed and poised to be eaten, I found that I didn’t really want to shovel it down. It was just a bit much.
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