Spinach is a commonly found prepared this way in Japanese restaurants, but you can try it out at home with any type of greens — mustards, kale, Chinese broccoli, or broccoli rabe. I found a full bunch of broccoli rabe from Maxwell’s stand at the Union Square Greenmarket recently that was almost entirely leaves, save for a few yellow flowers poking out. The young greens are less bitter than the mature, flowering heads, and the stalks are much thinner and crisp rather than woody. So this was a great springtime find.

a bunch of flowering broccoli rabe

All of it is edible — the flowers, leaves and stalks. Combined they provide great contrasts for such a simple vegetable side. Add a sprinkle of sesame seeds as garnish for a touch more of that. It was so easy for me to eat a great bunch of the broccoli rabe that I was worried would wilt before getting to in just one sitting. Served with brown rice and maybe a small protein side, it’s an intensely savory part of a whole meal. Another great thing about this type of preparation is that there are no added oils.

Here’s a trick that’s typically done when preparing ohitashi: grab the greens by their tops and dip just the stalks into the boiling water for thirty seconds or so (depending on how thick they are) before letting go the rest. This cooks them longer than the leaves, and chopping them off beforehand would result in a messy tangle of pieces (which is so not Japanese). Try to keep the bunch in much the same formation while it undergoes a quick blanche; and also for when they’re transferred to an ice bath with tongs and removed to be squeezed dry. Then, chop up the bunch into neat thirds lengthwise to create small piles of mini log-like stalks and leaves.

dipping the stems first

shocking in an ice bath

chopping into neatly-sized pieces

I made a recent trip to the Japanese market in the East Village (Sunrise Mart) recently and came back with some goodies, including shoyu. This is a lighter type of soy sauce, with less body and saltiness but a complex, fermented flavor that is umami all the way. You can also just go ahead and use regular soy sauce here, since it will be diluted with the dashi broth anyway. As for the dashi, the traditional soup stock of Japan, you can certainly make your own by soaking kombu seaweed for quite a while and infusing it with bonita flakes. But there are many reputable brands of all-natural instant dashi powders available too, so I thought I’d pick up some to try from the store. It did the trick in a fraction of the time.

reddish-tinted shoyu and dashi are combined

Broccoli rabe and their leafy greens might not be too embraced by the canon of Japanese — and all of East Asian — greens, but it sure makes a convincing stand-in prepared this way. The spiciness and bitterness of the leaves plays well with the fishy, ferment-y flavors of the dressing. I might just have to take a daikon radish and sautee it with garlic and olive oil next. Food is universal, after all.

Blanched Broccoli Rabe Greens with Soy-Dashi Sauce
(makes about 3-4 side servings)

1 large bunch broccoli rabe with its greens
1 cup dashi (either from an instant powder mix or by following the first paragraph of this recipe)
1/4 cup shoyu or soy sauce
toasted sesame seeds for garnish

Wash and trim just the tips of the stalks from the broccoli rabe. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Prepare an ice bath to transfer the greens to. Holding the bunch by the tops, dip just the stalks into the boiling water for thirty seconds to one minute, and let go to submerge the rest of the bunch. Blanche for about 1 minute longer, then transfer with tongs immediately to the ice bath. Squeeze the greens out well, then chop into thirds lengthwise. Arrange the pieces nearly in a serving platter. Combine the soy sauce and the dashi and pour over the greens. Garnish with the sesame seeds.

Cost Calculator
(for 3-4 side servings)

1 bunch broccoli rabe: $3.50
1 cup dashi (from an instant mix): $0.50
1/4 cup shoyu: $0.75
sprinkle of sesame seeds: $0.05

Total: $4.80

Health Factor

Three brownie points: Broccoli rabe, with its deep-colored leaves and bitter taste, is a powerful antioxidant that has more Vitamin K than you’ll need in a day per servings. It’s also a good source of fiber and protein. This being the main substance of this small dish, with minimal seasonings in the form of fermented soy sauce and broth, it doesn’t get much healthier for a vegetable side. The soy sauce does add significant sodium, but you’ll find that just a thin drizzle will carry flavor throughout the pile.

Green Factor

Eight maple leaves: Just one seasonal ingredient from the Greenmarket, with seasonings. But this time, instead of imported salt, pepper and olive oil, there’s imported soy sauce or shoyu and dashi powder. You’ll want to point out the dashi to any friends you might be serving it to who are strict vegetarians; since the soup is made with dried bonita flakes, it isn’t vegetarian.

In today’s day of all-inclusive getaways and destination restaurants, it would seem a paradox to cook while traveling. The very notion of “vacation,” with its root verb “vacate,” implies giving up everything one is supposed to regularly do and basking in the lap of luxury. But to those whose favorite hobbies are cooking and shopping at various produce markets and specialty grocery shops, cooking the unique food of the lands you travel to is the ultimate vacation itself.

You can always rough it by cooking while camping. The backwoods version of exotic groceries is wild herbs and grasses, and maybe berries, to sprinkle on your dish. Growing up, my dad took me and other kids camping for days at a time — we collected blueberries to plop into instant pancake mix on the griddle. The other available food that we brought was horrendous — powdered stews and cups ‘o noodles — so these meals had some of the best and the worst of it all. But my dad always seemed to know how to throw together a homemade chili using whatever was around, and that was always a highlight. To this day, I’m not sure what he did.

You can also go to the most cosmopolitan cities in the world and stay in an apartment, or studio, with a kitchen to use. To the AirBnB and Couchsurfer generation, this is not nearly as expensive or rare to come by as it sounds. Even some youth hostels have communal kitcheonettes. Then, go to the bakeries that people are lining up down the block for in Paris; the butcher shops with meats hanging down from the storefront windows like long, red lanterns in Milan; the fresh produce markets abuzz with old ladies in Beijing; don’t be afraid to ask for something you’ve never seen, touched or tasted. That’s the key. The worst that can happen is that you cook it, and just try some.

It’s a high time for traveling this warm, late spring. The mosquitoes are milder as well as the hot sun. I think of a lake house at sunset that I’ve been to in the past, and the smell of seared carrots that I grilled on the porch, with little stubs of their tops, until charred and sweet as marshmallows. These were glorious finds at a nearby, small-town farm stand, possibly the best-tasting carrots I’ve eaten in my life. I’d never thought to sizzle them whole with their skins before that, and it’s a trick that I’ve copied many springs afterward, but never to the same height of success as cooking them that first time, while traveling. You really never know what may come.

I’ve just returned from a week in Amsterdam, and although the Dutch might not be best known for their food, had a terrific time cooking some of it. It seemed there was a great deal of terrific, organic groceries from small, city shops and stands, selling the same types of foods that most Western European cities would. But there’s something a little different about the whole lot. Rather than gravitate towards the most familiar, seeking out the small peculiarities or preferences about a city’s foodstuff is more interesting. How those Europeans love their white asparagus! And small, round bobules of green squash in Amsterdam bore no boastings of an heirloom seed. Why is the yogurt so rich and tangy? And five distinct types of butters? Some of this has to do with nature, too. Even something as straightforward as a fresh tomato has a completely different terroir that you can see and taste — and feel, if you cook it, too. The meat and fish of different lands and waters are something new, too. I went to a restaurant in Amsterdam also where a beautiful fillet of fish of cod was barely seasoned and cooked too dry; it was placed atop some soft-cooked carrots and potatoes without sauce in a most unimpressive manner.

Here’s a simple, fool-proof menu for a homemade meal while traveling just about anywhere. I prepared it for friends in Amsterdam, and must have cost less for the total of ingredients purchased than that plate of poorly prepared fish in the restaurant. For the main dish, the seared salmon and sauteed zucchini, bear in mind that you’ll want to pick whatever the freshest, best fish at the market that day in that region happens to be (and if it’s not close enough to any sea, go with a nice hunk of red meat instead). The rest is simple enough to find anywhere.

first course
Salad with Shaved Celery, Apples & Arugula

No need to peel anything, just concentrate on shaving off fine blades of celery and apples (or pears) with a handy chef’s knife, and toss it all together with a squeeze of lemon, olive oil, and sprinkle of salt and pepper. The modest ingredients end up looking very impressive, and each have a generous contrast of flavors.

soup course
Potato Leek Soup

Who doesn’t love this anywhere you go? You can add flair by sprinkling a fistful of dill (or tarragon, or parsley) on each bowl, and the mild flavor of the softened potatoes and sweet leeks will stand out even more. That’s what I did, as well as making sure the soup simmered with its potato chunks for at least two hours, to develop lots of flavor and fall apart much on their own (there was no grinding device in the apartment, I discovered too late).

main course
Seared Salmon with Zucchini and Lemon-Butter Sauce

You just need a few mouthfuls of a really good, well-prepared fish to seal the deal for this meal. I shared a portion of this and felt so full afterwards, but didn’t want to waste one last juicy wedge of that salmon, which I like to cook (when it is as fresh, tasty and red as the Norwegian fillets I found in a seafood market there) very scantly if at all in the interior flesh. So easy, too — get a pan hot and add a slick of oil; place fish skin side-down and just leave it there until it’s crispy and the rest of the fish is cooked as thoroughly as you like. You can sear the opposite side if it’s a fat cut, but with thinner fillets like flounder don’t be too sure you need to keep it on long enough to crisp both sides — you probably shouldn’t. Oh and after it’s out of the pan, squeeze a couple lemons in the pan and swirl with a pat of butter and salt and pepper to taste to drizzle over your plates.

Again, improvise as you will, and don’t let this three-course meal in all its simplicity sway you from trying much bigger, bolder tasks, too. I usually save that for when I’m cooking alone, however, rather than try it on guests, too. Picking up strange tins and small jars of condiments and cured things as souvenirs, you can continue cooking while “traveling” even once you’ve come back home.

After all, new classics and cliches in food are being made every day, so someone’s got to initiate. This week, I’ve been cooking my way through a nice bunch of fresh asparagus, and each time stole a bite of the slenderest ones raw. Rather than being fibrous and woody or bland in taste, these raw shoots were jade-green, full of crunch and sweet juice inside. I figured they’d be the perfect candidates for quick-pickling in a mild vinegar solution with just a pinch of salt.

quick-pickling fresh asparagus for a tangy topping

It was either these or the beautiful, bright-pink French breakfast radishes I’ve also been swooning over this spring. Even though radishes, unlike asparagus, can have multiple harvests throughout the year, those in spring surely couldn’t have been planted too long ago. Crisp and spicy, I thought I’d preserve these optimal radishes in their natural state. Instead, the asparagus would get a quick bath in a light brine, and afterward, become crunchier, juicier, and agents of tang.

French breakfast radishes

sliced up for a topping au naturel

Finally, you could add mayonnaise and perhaps flavor it with fresh, spring herbs like tarragon. But a lighter alternative, no less in-season and green: make a pea puree, with a small clove of garlic, squeeze of lemon, and olive oil. You’ll get the adhesive something-or-other you were looking to put on that bun, and lots of sweet flavor. Albeit, a slab of chicken breast is not the heaviest food item you can put between two pieces of bread; however, when the going’s this good you might as well pile up on green.

green peas are lightly mashed for a nutritious spread

I didn’t fuss too much with the thinly sliced chicken breasts I’d purchased that way; they seemed cut down just for this purpose. Gently seasoned, coated it in olive oil, and shaken with a little flour on its surface, it went onto a hot, cast-iron pan for a brown on both sides. If you’ve cleaned up the grill for backyard barbecues already, use it to lend the chicken some charred accents, too.

lightly dredging the chicken breast

Is spring the best time of year to eat chicken, as well? As folk wisdom would put it, yes — when they’re young. But for better or for worse, almost all chicken produced for meat nowadays are less than a year old, even when they’re drug-free or Certified Humane like the ones I got from Pennsylvania-based Murray’s Chicken. Can you eat chicken from older hens, typically ones that previously laid eggs? Yes, but I wouldn’t recommend it for this sandwich. You can get such hens, often called “stew chickens” from plenty of farmers at the Greenmarket; tough and rubbery-fleshed, they’re better off for making stock, or stew with (and I’ve tried otherwise).

Long story short: some things are just better in spring. Savor them while you can.

Spring Chicken Sandwich
(makes 2)

2 boneless, thinly sliced chicken breasts (or slice one thick breast in half)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 radishes, trimmed and thinly sliced
2 rolls of your choice
2 leaves lettuce (optional)

for the pea puree:
3/4 cup green peas
1 clove garlic, minced
juice of half a lemon
1 tablespoon olive oil
salt and pepper

for the asparagus pickles:
4 slender asparagus stalks, tough ends trimmed and cut to 1″ pieces
1/4 cup red or white wine vinegar
1/4 cup water
pinch of salt

To make the asparagus quick pickles, combine the vinegar and water in a small bowl and stir in the salt. Submerge the asparagus pieces in the solution, cover, and chill while you prepare the rest of the ingredients (or up to overnight).

Season the chicken breasts on both sides with salt and pepper. Rub in the olive oil, cover, and set aside.

To make the pea puree, boil the peas for 3-4 minutes until tender. Drain. Transfer to a food processor or use a hand blender and puree with the the lemon juice, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste.

Heat a heavy-bottomed cast-iron or grill pan. Lightly grease the surface with an extra splash of olive oil. Spread the flour on a flat plate and lightly dredge the chicken in the flour. Place both on the pan and don’t touch for thirty seconds. Once bottom sides are gently browned, flip, and cook until lightly browned on the opposite side.

Meanwhile, spread the pea puree on the insides of both rolls. Add the optional lettuce leaves to the bottom of each and place the chicken breasts on each. Top with the sliced radishes and pickled asparagus (drained) and serve.

Cost Calculator
(for 2 servings)

2 thin chicken breasts (at $9.99/lb): $3.00
2 rolls: $1.50
4 asparagus stalks (at $4/bunch): $0.80
2 radishes (at $2/bunch)$0.40
3/4 cup peas (frozen): $0.50
1/2 lemon: $0.25
1/4 cup red wine vinegar: $0.25
2 lettuce leaves: $0.20
olive oil, salt, pepper, 2 Tb flour: $0.50

Total: $7.40

Health Factor

Five brownie points: I’m torn on this one, because it is such a lean take on a meal that could easily be highly caloric and heavy. But it is, after all, a chicken sandwich, even with the great fiber in the asparagus, antioxidants in the radishes, and protein in the peas. That tender piece of chicken breast won’t add too much cholesterol to your diet, however, and if you opt for a whole-grain roll, as I did, you’ll have more fiber to off-set the calories in it, too.

Green Factor

Eight maple leaves: Each ingredient was locally procured, lest for the seasonings of salt, pepper, olive oil and lemon juice. But while it’s an in-season dish, you can enjoy several variations on it throughout the year, when other ingredients that could be toppings are an option — like pickled onions and carrots in the winter, and, yes, juicy tomatoes in summer.

Feeding a lot of people? Make some fried rice. Feeding just yourself, for a snack? Making fried rice works for that, too. It’s ideal when there’s leftover rice laying around, because the grains will be dryer and crisp better on a pan. But you can make rice just for the event; add slightly less water this time and let it air-dry after steaming for a bit. Here, you want each grain of rice to be separate, not bound in gluey clumps.

chopping asparagus to satisfying chunks

Brown rice, with its more chewy texture and nutty taste, works great for fried rice when leftover or not. Since I prefer it for most any rice dish, I’ll more likely have it leftover as well. This is probably the only difference from my version of fried rice and that of my mom, who made it frequently growing up. But the real key about making good fried rice is not in the actual rice; it’s in a little seasoning of white pepper throughout.

white pepper

White pepper adds distinct flavor aside from its being pale, and hence less conspicuous in eggs or rice (an ideal in Chinese cooking). It’s quite tingly on the nose, sure to make one sneeze if some gets inhaled during a smell-test. It’s also commonly used finely ground rather than in whole peppercorns that are coarsely crushed (for that inconspicuousness).

beating the eggs

So I’ll use white pepper (and salt) to season some beaten eggs before scrambling, then again to season the whole pan of fried rice with toward the end. A common misconception is that glugs of soy sauce are stirred into fried rice; my mom never touched the bottle of soy sauce for this dish. I like to add a splash just for a little color and umami kick once the rice is gently seared, but not too much lest they discolor the scrambled eggs (a misnomer, of course).

after a quick sear

With such a light-tasting peasant dish like this, asparagus fits right in. Super fresh and barely cooked, these chunky pieces of the springtime stalk add a toothsome bite and burst with juice. Consider it a vegetable substitute for the main protein in fried rice, be it leftover bits of roast pork or tofu. Indeed, asparagus has a lot of protein for a vegetable, about five grams per serving.

So do peas, and this was a classic addition to all fried rices from my past: a scatter of (frozen) peas directly into the pan that would plump up in the snowfall of rice added shortly after. No matter what else you add to your fried rice, you can be assured a touch of green and protein thanks to them. But now that it’s spring, I thought I’d triple the green quotient in this dish by using three seasonal ingredients: peas, asparagus and fresh scallions.

So, a simple spring edition of this year-round comfort food. Use lots of asparagus in it while they’re good and fresh — and, hopefully, before getting too bored with it.

Fried Rice with Asparagus & Peas
(makes about 4 servings)

4 cups cooked brown rice (can be up to 3 days old and a little dried out)
4 eggs, beaten
1 bunch asparagus, tough ends trimmed and cut to 1/2″ pieces on a bias
1/2 cup fresh or frozen peas, boiled for 2-3 minutes and strained
2-3 scallions, sliced on a bias
salt and ground white pepper to taste
dash of soy sauce (optional)
2-3 tablespoons canola or vegetable oil

Season eggs with a pinch of salt and pepper. Heat a wide, heavy-bottomed chef’s pan or wok and add a tablespoon of the oil over high heat. Pour in the eggs and stir around on the pan with chopsticks. Don’t touch for a few seconds to let pieces lightly brown. Once just cooked through and lightly browned in some patches, transfer the scrambled eggs to a bowl.

Add another tablespoon of oil to the pan and continue heating over a high flame. Toss the asparagus pieces in the pan and season with a couple pinches of salt. Stir occasionally for about 1 minute, and transfer to a bowl.

Add another tablespoon of oil to the pan, and the rice. Stir to break up clumps and season with salt and white pepper. Don’t touch a few seconds to let parts lightly brown. Add optional splash of soy sauce and mix rice thoroughly immediately after.

Return the scrambled eggs and asparagus to the pan and add the peas. Stir to combine thoroughly and taste for seasoning, adding any extra salt or white pepper as desired. Remove from heat and toss in the scallions. Serve immediately.

Cost Calculator
(for 4 servings)

4 cups cooked rice: $1.00
4 eggs: $1.00
1 bunch asparagus: $4.00
1/2 cup peas (frozen): $0.50
2 scallions: $0.50
salt, white pepper, vegetable oil: $0.30

Total: $7.30

Health Factor

Four brownie points: This is a well-rounded, complete meal that really satisfies. With eggs for a little richness, brown rice for extra fiber and protein, and fresh asparagus for Vitamin C, Vitamin A, Vitamin K, Vitamin E, and more fiber and protein, there’s hardly an unhealthy moment in it.

Green Factor

Seven maple leaves: While the star ingredient, asparagus, was just in season from local farms, the peas (another springtime treat) were yet to be found so I substituted them with ones from the freezer aisle. The scallions were fresh from the Greenmarket, too. Organic, if not local, brown rice is an easy staple to find in stores and stock up on, and the eggs were from my own coop.

Like apfelstrudel. This flaky pastry filled with fruit is a fine vessel for rhubarb, I’ve recently found out. I was preparing a typical Bavarian lunch for the German Braumeister at the brewery, with imported weisswurst, brezels (pretzels), homemade sauerkraut and a shoddy attempt at potato knudel, when I thought that a light dessert of strudel would be a fitting way to finish. Turns out that strudel actually originates from Austria, although it’s enjoyed pretty much throughout Europe as well as the States.

Granny Smith apples and rhubarbs

It also turns out that making traditional strudel dough is pretty brutal. If you’re setting out to do it from scratch, I don’t envy your task — pulling out dough to paper-thin sheets, laying it across towels or parchment and rolling it up without tearing. Unlike the puff pastry and other buttery, leavened doughs which apple strudel is often made with nowadays, the traditional strudel has much finer layers that are rolled up around filling. It’s not a perfect substitute but phyllo dough (or filo dough) is similar. So I bought some frozen sheets of that and called it a day.

brushing the phyllo sheets with melted butter

lining the edge with filling

Now for the fun stuff: I used slightly more rhubarb than apples in this filling mixture, although I was aiming for 50/50. Granny smith, chopped to small cubes, and crisp, finely chopped stalks of rhubarb were coated well in brown sugar for the filling. The rhubarb lends so much natural tartness that no lemon juice was needed. And to taste it even more, I didn’t add any spices, either.

They might seem fibrous, but rhubarbs melt down to a silky-smooth and thick sauce when cooked. I like how they’re not too runny with juices, like berries, too. Combined with apples, which also softened and lent a slightly banana-like sweetness, the filling stayed right where it was supposed to be while the strudel baked. (Except for one little tear, where it oozed out.)

rolled up, brushed with more butter, and ready to bake

a little spill

This was easier than pie to make. Cut into generous pieces after resting a while, the hot, fruity filling was refreshingly tangy and sweet. It was also a noticeable shade of spring green, thanks to the rhubarb. A sprinkle of cinnamon on top gives the just-baked crust a little flourish, or you could dust it with powdered sugar more in keeping with tradition instead. It’s not your average apple strudel, in any case.

Apple-Rhubarb Strudel
(makes 2 12″ long strudels, or about 12 pieces)

2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and chopped to roughly 1/2″ pieces
4-5 rhubarb stalks, chopped to roughly 1/2″ pieces
1/2 cup brown sugar
30 12″ long phyllo dough sheets, slightly thawed
about 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
cinnamon or confectioners sugar for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a bowl, combine the chopped apples and rhubarbs with the sugar.

Line your work surface with parchment paper or a clean towel. Place three sheets of the phyllo dough on top and brush surface with the melted butter. Place another three sheets on top and brush with butter. Repeat until there are 15 sheets of paper, with brushed butter in between every three. Arrange half of the filling along one side of the sheets, about an inch from the edge. Carefully roll up the strudel. Repeat for the second strudel. Brush both tops with remaining butter. Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until tops are golden brown. Remove from heat, Let cool at least ten minutes before cutting to serve.

Cost Calculator
(for about 12 servings)

2 Granny Smith apples (at $1.50/lb): $1.00
5 rhubarb stalks (at $4/lb): $2.25
about 3/4 package of phyllo dough at $3.49: $2.60
1/2 cup brown sugar: $0.30
6 tablespoons butter: $1.50

Total: $6.65

Health Factor

Six brownie points: Sweet and satisfyingly buttery, this fresh fruit-based dessert is actually a healthier choice than many. The phyllo dough is brushed lightly with butter throughout, but has none of the weight of typical pie pastries and won’t fill you up with too many carbs after you’ve already had your meal. The filling may be sweetened with brown sugar, but rhubarbs alone are low in calories. Though they’re not a fruit, but a juicy stalk of a perennial plant, they’re rich in B-vitamins, Vitamin K, and Vitamin A (especially the more red-colored stalks).

Green Factor

Seven maple leaves: I’ve been eating local apples for what seems like a whole year — still around thanks to cold storage, they’re in the farmers’ markets now along with newer arrivals like rhubarb. And for baking, along with spreading any piece of bread thickly with too, I really prefer this stuff called “pasture butter” from Organic Valley, made from pastured cows’ milk. The taste is off-the-charts good, and it reminded me of the amazing “Alpenbutter” that I’d become addicted to in Germany, which was also made from grazed cows. It’s really expensive, but there’s no going back to other butters for me. The nice yellow color (thanks to all the beta-carotene in the grass) of the butter also makes everything look nice.

More substantial this salad did become. But even more so addictive, to the point where I was no longer having a light lunch based on my heavy portion. This is the kind of salad you’ll want to shovel into your mouth at once, trying to burst each delicate zucchini piece as you get it down. It’s not overwhelming enough in flavor to do so, and you want to experience again the trifecta of textures and tastes, from the soft, mealy beans to the crisp bits of onion.

zucchini gets sliced

and medium-diced

The only mar in the threesome was the (admittedly, foolish) use of canned beans rather than fresh or dried and soaked ones — or any type that simply doesn’t taste like a can. This was a last-minute ingredient decision, so there was simply no time to rehydrate big broad beans for the handful of hours that they’d need to become tender. Also called fava beans or butter beans, these kidney-shaped beans are flat, broad, and spring-green when they’re fresh, and ivory-colored once dried. They’ll have a tough outer skin that needs to be peeled in addition to shucking their pods off, should you find some fresh ones. I thought the substantial size of these beans would pair nicely with the zucchini and create a big, chunky appearance. But actually, you can use any type of beans — small, large, red or black — instead of them here. Just try to make the time to cook them instead of getting them from a can.

red onion and fresh lemon

before a quick toss

This salad can benefit from a quick sit in its dressing of (your best) olive oil, fresh lemon juice, salt and pepper. It makes a great picnic side to bring along because of it. Just don’t let it soak more than a couple hours, as the zucchini will begin to lose its bite, and toss in the fresh herbs when it’s ready to enjoy to maintain their fluffiness. I’ve added both parsley and basil to mine, just ’cause they were about; try mint, chives, or any fresh herb you like as well.

Fresh Zucchini & Broad Bean Salad
(makes 3-4 servings)

2 medium-sized zucchini, ends trimmed and chopped to 1/2″ pieces
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
8 oz. dried broad (or fava) beans, or any bean, soaked overnight and boiled until just tender (or substitute with a well-rinsed 15 oz. can of beans for time’s sake)
about 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
juice of half a lemon (or to taste)
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1-2 tablespoons fresh parsley, basil and/or other fresh herbs, chopped

Combine the zucchini, onion and beans in a large bowl. Add the olive oil and lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately or keep chilled, covered, for up to 2 hours. Garnish with the fresh herbs.

Cost Calculator
(for 3-4 servings)

2 zucchini (at $3/lb): $2.25
1/2 red onion (at $2/lb): $0.50
1/2 lemon: $0.25
15 oz. can broad beans: $1.49
olive oil, salt, pepper: $0.40
2 tablespoons parsley and basil (from windowsill plants): $0.20

Total: $5.09

Health Factor

Three brownie points: Don’t be fooled by their pale flesh and mild taste; zucchini are no slackers in nutrients. Lots of Vitamin C in these green fruits, along with potassium, fiber, folate, and Vitamin A for a very little amount of calories. Broad beans add even more fiber and folate along with healthy, plant-based protein, and will help fill you up. If opting for the canned kind, try to get a low-sodium one and rinse them out well to try to rid all that extra sodium (and that canny taste).

Green Factor

Six maple leaves: We’re almost there! With the zucchini just in season from at least one local farm (Phillips) at the Greenmarket, we’re headed around the bend to summer produce. Also found locally were the spring onion bunch I managed to swipe my red onion from, and newly transplanted seedlings of herbs. Not so low-footprint were the lemon and olive oil, which must come from afar; the can of beans might have too for all I know, but at least the crop can be found locally, too.

Eating — anything — is an act of taking. By sustaining our lives we are taking life from plants, animals, people, or energy from the sun. And just by living, especially in modern civilization, we are constantly taking and demanding of nature and other human beings — to clothe ourselves, to type on a laptop, or to transport ourselves from place to place. When we die, we will be placed back into the earth to replenish it, but until then, life is a series of karmic spending.

Except when we do good. This can be planting a tree or something as simple as making someone else smile. Because the good circulates, and inspires others to do good as well. This is how we lift ourselves from the karmic debt we have accumulated. We may never reach a point of equilibrium — never do enough good to overcome the bad karma in our lives — but it is a necessary routine and helps us continue taking and demanding as we live.

I don’t eat meat very often, mostly because I know that I can satisfy myself without it and won’t have to carry the extra burdens of creating so much suffering, albeit inadvertently, for another creature as a consumer of meat. I ask myself, did I do enough good to justify a bit of meat today? Most of the times, I’d say no. Some people may believe that no measure of their actions can justify killing an animal, and they become vegetarians.

What is “doing good”? The concept has been embraced by most religions in some fashion or another, but according to Buddhism, is not defined by any strict rules. In my understanding, it essentially means putting out good vibes. It happens when we give of ourselves selflessly for the benefit of some good. Like taking care of an animal, or another person; taking care of plants or the land. It’s simply a show of love, kindness, and respect for all things. I believe there is a wealth of opportunity to both alleviate suffering and create more good in our food choices. You can choose meat from a more ethically sound producer that tries hard to do genuine good to its animals, the earth, its employees and its customers. You can also grow the plants or animals you eat with the utmost respect, or show another man, as the proverb goes, to fish. Try to accept that all beings, even those fish in the sea, may need to create suffering as a necessary part of being alive. But if we’re all in it together, trying harder to do good, the less suffering on us all will result.

So does this mean that if one donates to the Sierra Club for their whole life, they can eat as much meat as they want in good conscience? How great a donation does it take to enjoy a pork chop? Sadly, these markers do not exist. But good exists, all around, and even if it can’t be measured we can challenge ourselves to do more and more each day. To one who enjoys food as an utmost pleasure, it means being more cognizant of the ramifications of what I’m eating, and extra effort to bring about more good in doing so.

So as the Buddha preached in his Five Contemplations Before Eating, prepare food thoughtfully after you’ve stripped its life. Eat with gratitude and mindfulness, too. And herein, the opportunity: share the joys that you’re receiving with others as well. Make food that will make someone else’s day, not just yours, and without regard to any self-serving gain. If you can do this, with a giving heart and an accepting vision of the ways we all try to reduce suffering, then, maybe, you can eat meat in good, ethical conscience. Or maybe, you can simply eat, and live, in a better world.

If you’re looking to scrape up a meal from seemingly nothing, here’s one way to really hit it out of the park. In fact, breadcrumbs really do need to be scraped, swept or otherwise salvaged from a scattered mess on the counter to do this dish right. Minced anchovies and garlic create a tasty olive oil infusion to coat the pasta with, and some spare greens like kale, or just a shower of fresh parsley for garnish, combine for a healthy and effortless, last-minute dinner.

I suppose you’ll need to like the taste of anchovies first. I must say I was never a fan of those dry, shriveled things that sat atop a greasy, smelly slice of pizza when I was a kid. Since that unfortunate introduction to the little fish, I’ve grown very fond of anchovies — in salads, in sandwiches with sliced, hard-boiled eggs, or crushed up in Caesar dressing or tapenades. I now get cravings for the flavorful, oily fillets, which is precisely what happened before making this pasta. And I take no guilt from it — anchovies are a terrific source of omega-3 fatty acids and a highly sustainable choice for seafood.

oil-packed anchovies

I’m sure it won’t be too long before fresh anchovies will become more readily available; until then, you can always find them canned with oil. I used all of two spineless fillets of these little fish to create a one-portion serving; you can adjust and use more or less to your taste.

minced along with garlic

Mince up your fillets as finely as you can to create a sort of paste. This will be added to hot olive oil and practically dissolve. Also mince a clove or two of garlic per serving, and be careful not to let it burn on the pan.

I’d picked up a nice-looking box of baby trimmings of kale from the Greenmarket last weekend. It’s probably overwintered kale that had just grown back over the warm spring to this size. In any case, the small leaves were perfect for simply dropping into the saute rather than chopping up before. A pinch of salt and pepper, and all that awaited was the boiling spaghetti in the other pot.

baby kale leaves

After spaghetti is added, along with some of its cooking liquid, you can add a pat of butter, drizzle of olive oil, and extra seasoning to taste. The breadcrumbs make a spendthrifty, and texturally delightful substitute for grated cheese as a garnish. Also, the Italians have some thing against mixing cheese and seafood. These breadcrumbs were previously toasted in a very hot pan, swished around for a few moments until toasty-brown. Forget the things found on supermarket shelves — that’s all it takes to make great breadcrumbs. I didn’t even have to crush the ancient baguette the crumbs fell off from, either; it was so stale that all the bits at the bottom of the bag sufficed just fine.

stale breadcrumbs, before toasting

And hey — if you really feel you can’t get into anchovies at all, I might suggest mincing up some good, oil-packed olives instead of them here. Vegans and seafood-allergic, that’s all you, too.

Spaghetti with Anchovies, Kale and Breadcrumbs
(makes 2 servings)

about 1/2 lb spaghetti, or other dry pasta
4-5 flat anchovy fillets
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)
about 1 cup fresh kale, baby leaves or coarsely chopped and stemmed if large
3-4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh, toasted breadcrumbs for garnish
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley for garnish (optional)
salt and pepper to taste

Bring a pot of generously salted water to a boil. Add pasta, and stir. Cook until al dente.

Once the pasta is nearly cooked and all the ingredients are prepped, heat a wide saucepan with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Add the garlic and once fragrant, add the minced anchovy and optional chili flakes. Cook over medium heat another few seconds and do not let burn. Add the kale leaves and season with a pinch of salt and pepper. Cook, stirring, about 1 minute or until wilted.

Transfer spaghetti directly to the pan of other ingredients, along with a couple splashes of its cooking liquid. Stir to incorporate and season with salt and pepper to taste. Add a few more drizzles of olive oil. Serve in plates and garnish with the fresh parsley and toasted breadcrumbs.

Cost Calculator
(for 2 servings)

1/2 lb pasta: $1.50
5 anchovy fillets (from a 2 oz. can at $2.79): $1.25
3 garlic cloves: $0.10
1 cup fresh kale (at $3/small box at the Greenmarket): $1.00
2 tablespoons crumbs from stale loaf of bread: $0.20?
2 tablespoons fresh parsley (at $2/bunch): $1.25
4-5 tablespoons olive oil: $0.50

Total: $5.80

Health Factor

Four brownie points: It’s deceiving sometimes when you opt for a “light” pasta dish — often it’s drowned with butter, oil and cheese, or else a sodium-rich tomato sauce. While I’m no stranger to canned tomatoes, I try to leave them out as long as fresh ingredients like kale, garlic, and now anchovies can entertain my tastebuds as much. With kale, you’re getting tons of deep leafy-green nutrients like Vitamin K, iron, and fiber; even though used so sparsely, the anchovies make a big impact in flavor and are great sources of heart-healthy omega-3 fatty acids, selenium, Vitamin A and even calcium.

Green Factor

Six maple leaves: Aside from the olive oil, pasta and canned anchovies, these ingredients were seasonal and found locally: kale, parsley (I’ve got a new windowsill plant for the summer), and the breadcrumbs, from a stale baguette. Whenever you have a stale baguette like that, it’s not a bad idea to crush it up and keep in a mason jar for future uses like this, rather than tossing it out. And while the can of anchovies were produced across the pond, the tiny fish themselves are about the most plentiful types of fish you can eat, rather than the big carnivorous ones that eat them.

a few pounds of Russets lose their skins

and boil just until creamy-soft

If you don’t have some of the ingredients listed here, have no fear. The only really crucial ones are some Szechuan chili oil — or better yet, a dense, chili-bean sauce (dou ban jiang) with plenty of reddish oil floating on top — and Szechuan peppercorns, if you like a numbing-hot touch. The rest in this combination is pretty staple fare: mayonnaise, rice vinegar, potatoes, cucumber, fresh scallions and cilantro. I like using Russet potatoes whenever I want to create a really thick, saucy potato salad, because when cooked just enough, they break off a little when stirred to add to the sauce. However, you can always use red potatoes and keep their peels on, too.

combining chili oil, cracked pepper, scallions and more with mayonnaise

a pinch of pickled mustard greens get mixed in

So if you’re feeling adventurous, and want to treat your friends to a spicy surprise, here’s one way to blend the best of two very different worlds of food. My advice for those uninitiated to spicy Szechuan sauces and dan-dan mian is to give this a try first, as the creaminess of the mayonnaise will help mellow the fire. Then go out to try some serious Szechuan food and have your face melt off. I’m about ready to do that soon.

Spicy Szechuan Potato Salad
(makes about 10-12 servings)

5 lbs Russet potatoes, peeled and cut to similar-sized halves if large
about 1 cup mayonnaise (I like using Kewpie brand Japanese mayo)
1-2 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 tablespoons chili bean sauce (dou ban jiang), or substitute red chili oil
1 small cucumber, seed pocket removed and finely diced
1/2 bunch cilantro leaves, chopped
2-3 scallions, chopped
2 teaspoons Chinese pickled mustard greens (optional)
handful crushed Szechuan peppercorns
salt and pepper to taste

Boil potatoes completely submerged in lightly salted water for 8-10 minutes or until tender. Drain and let cool. Chop into 1/2 – 1″ cubes.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl combine the mayonnaise, rice vinegar and chili sauce or oil. Add salt and pepper to taste and adjust any of the ingredients as desired. Fold in the pickled greens, cucumbers, scallions and cilantro, reserving some of the latter for garnish. Fold in the chopped potatoes and gently stir to incorporate. Taste for seasoning and adjust as desired. Sprinkle with the Szechuan peppercorns, extra cilantro and/or scallions for garnish and serve.

Cost Calculator
(for 10-12 servings)

5 lb bag of potatoes: $2.99
half a bunch of cilantro: $1.50
half a bunch of scallions: $1.00
half a cucumber: $0.50
1 cup mayonnaise: $1.50
2 tablespoons chili bean sauce: $0.50
2 tablespoons rice vinegar: $0.40
2 teaspoons pickled mustard greens: $0.25
handful Szechuan peppercorns: $0.25

Total: $8.89

Health Factor

Six brownie points: Don’t kid yourself because it’s called a “salad” — potato salads are typically very rich, and this one is no exception. With plenty of mayonnaise and added chili oil, it’s a filling and fattening mixture, so eat in moderation. That should be fairly easy, as it has so many layers of intense flavor you’ll hopefully be satisfied after a few bites.

Green Factor

Four maple leaves: New scallions and spinach are hitting the farmers’ market, but this recipe mostly tricks out the lingering winter potatoes. Many very non-local, imported condiments are used here to achieve the signature flavor, though — the chili sauce, rice vinegar and even the mayonnaise — and the cucumber has no place in spring fare for the seasonal eater. It would be fun to try it out again using prime ingredients fresh from the market later on in the summer.

It’s a contradictory ordeal, but this salsa verde with ramps was good enough for some hypocritism for the locavore. I’d already decided to put on a taco night for a staff dinner last week, and I just couldn’t muster up much an appetite for the mealy, pale pink tomatoes shipped from afar. At least tomatillos, which are roasted before being peeled and pureed into a salsa verde, weren’t so demanding as to their perfect state. Then, the bright-green chopped ramps would give it a fresh flavor that was seasonal, instead of cilantro.

ramps

I’ve made salsa verde before during the tail end of summer harvest season, and it’s a lot easier than one might expect. The main ingredient is simply tomatillos, cooked until its skins are soft enough to peel off, supplemented by finely chopped jalapeno, onion and cilantro. You might add a few squeezes of fresh lime juices at the end, but tomatillos are naturally very tart on their own.

tomatillos

stripped of husks and ready for a quick roast

Peeling the thin skins from the roasted tomatillo’s flesh is about the most difficult part. From then on, you can simply mush them up a little more, perhaps with the help of a hand blender. I like a few chunks of tomatillo here and there, which provide a gelatinous texture.

Skipping the cilantro and onion, the ramps are chopped up finely from the slender, purplish bulb to the billowy shoots. I used quite a lot of ramps for this recipe — a whole bunch for a dozen tomatillos. To give the salsa a subtle, bright kick one large jalapeno was seeded and chopped up finely to incorporate.

the finished salsa verde, with a note of spring

Kept covered and refrigerated for one night, the salsa was better the next day, once its flavors had mingled but retained their vibrancy. It was poured into small bowls for dipping tortilla chips into. Many around the table noted the interesting taste in this salsa verde, but couldn’t quite put their finger on it. It was an unexpected note of spring, for an essential summer salsa. Try it while there’s still time.

Salsa Verde with Ramps
(makes about 3 cups)

12 tomatillos, husks and stems removed
1 bunch ramps
1 jalapeno, seeded and finely chopped
fresh lime juice to taste
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Place tomatillos on a sheet pan and roast for about 10 minutes, until softened and just browned in patches. Let cool completely. Scrape away the thin peels and stem bases, making sure to retain as much flesh against the peels as possible (it’s okay if some peel gets into your salsa). Place all flesh and seeds in a bowl.

Trim roots from the ramps (if present). Finely chop the ramps from bulb to shoot. Transfer to the tomatillos and add the jalapeno and salt and pepper to taste. Add lime juice to taste. Cover and chill at least 6 hours before serving to allow flavors to meld, preferably.

Cost Calculator
(for 3 cups)

12 tomatillos (at $3/lb): $4.00
1 bunch ramps: $3.00
1 jalapeno: $0.40
1 lime: $0.20

Total: $7.60

Health Factor

Three brownie points: Salsa verde makes a very healthy way to complement a greasy chip. Especially when it’s made with lots of fresh ramps — their rich, green color betrays their plentiful Vitamin K. Just like any good leafy green, it’s also a good source of Vitamin C and Vitamin A, especially when eaten fresh. Tomatillos, a staple of Mexican cuisine, are another source of Vitamin C, and thanks to no added oils or sugars, and minimal salt, this is a very pure and heart-friendly condiment.

Green Factor

Four maple leaves: If only ramps and tomatillos were in season at the same time on the East Coast! While the ramps were foraged from the grounds at Mountain Sweet Berry Farm in Upstate New York, to be picked up at the Union Square Greenmarket, the tomatillos were found in my local deli, which stocks lots of Latin American specialties year-round (like the lime also used here). However, growing tomatillos is just as easy as tomatoes, so get your seeds planted to harvest them later in the summer now!