I love the idea of popping a whole fish in the oven, to roast until sizzling sounds are heard, and the flesh is juicy and opaque. But I don’t love the idea of just plunking the whole fish down on a baking sheet, as it’ll stick to the pan, becoming slimy and weird. The fish’s natural juices will get totally wasted while cooking, spilling onto the abyss of a blank sheetpan that you’ll have to scrub well soon. So I like to pile vegetables underneath my fish, and asparagus are a perfect tool for creating edible grillbars for this purpose. They remind me of playing with colored wooden logs and stacking cabins with them in preschool.

Not only are asparagus in season right now this spring, but they’re handy in ways that you probably haven’t explored before. It took me days to come up with a recipe featuring asparagus, because I felt deep down that there was probably no better way to prepare asparagus than very lightly, and just with something to provide richness — not with too much extra flavors, which would detract from its very subtle, grassy earthiness, but to coddle it with fats to enhance it. That’s why asparagus is often topped with a poached egg, with hollandaise sauce, steamed lightly, grilled quickly, never manipulated too much from its natural state. This is so wise.

spring asparagus

So I determined not to make an asparagus soup, pesto, or god forbid, ice cream, but something that played off the natural appeal of the lightly cooked stalks. What better way to showcase this simplicity than serving it along with something else as minimally dressed, prepared and pure as a whole, very fresh fish? And what better way to make use of its flavorful moisture than by cooking them together, in a log structure that doesn’t require much assembly?

whole rainbow trout gets stuffed with lemon and placed atop asparagus before roasting

I’m not a psychologist, but the pleasures of a meal that’s cooked practically blindfolded and in a few minutes make me feel clean and down to earth. I get a retreat out of this. A full inhale of the spring. The ingredients can be sourced as painstakingly as possible, to ensure optimal freshness, but the cooking is no-fuss and full of whimsy.

Like a whole chicken with its bones, a whole fish is a much more economical and flavorful option than spliced cuts. I recommend going for one, and I was able to get fairly small ones from the fishmonger of Max Creek Hatchery today at Union Square Greenmarket. He raises rainbow trout in his own hatchery in Upstate New York, smoking some of them and harvesting others the day (or morning) before bringing them to the market every Wednesday. The rainbow trout is one of my favorite types of fish — mild and delicate-tasting, just uber-fresh and slightly coral-tinted thanks to its healthy diet of beta-carotenes. I consider this catch a rare gem in my neck of the woods, but I’m sure that any really fresh whole fish from a trusted fishmonger would work great for this recipe as well.

shallots are sliced to crisp in a hot pan

For a little extra flavor, I stuffed the cavity my my whole fish with a few slices of lemon and good sprinkle of salt and pepper. I’ve seen recipes involving garlic cloves and assorted herbs to include here, too, but find that spring herbs (like the chives and mint I chopped up) taste better when sprinkled on top after cooking, fresh, and that fresh garlic is too overwhelming for the subtle-tasting flesh. However, since the skin of a roasted fish never gets quite as crispy as it would with a pan-roast, I slivered a shallot to crisp up in a shallow pool of hot oil to sprinkle on top of the fish as a crunchy garnish. This extra topping helped satisfy the missing “crispy” element.

How do you eat this unwieldy meal of a whole fish on your plate? Just pick away at its top half, prodding the meat away from its spinal bones as you go. Then, once you’ve finished it, peel off the entire spine (and head and tail, which comes along easily with a gentle pull), and polish off the bottom half of the fish, now a cleanly trimmed fillet. Squeeze on some extra juice from that lemon that was stuffed in its cavity, and pile on some of those crispy shallot rings with your bite for crunch. If you’re looking to round this out as a whole meal, just rip off pieces of a baguette, to sop the juices, lemon and herbs with at the bottom of your plate. A pile of cooked grains like quinoa or rice will absorb some of that, too. The best part of the meal may just be the asparagus, delicately flavored by the fish while perching it up as it cooked.

Roasted Whole Fish with Asparagus Logs and Fried Shallots
(makes 1 serving)

1 roughly 1/2-pound whole, cleaned fish (such as rainbow trout or other pale-fleshed fish, as long as it’s very fresh)
6 or so asparagus stalks, tough ends snapped off where they naturally break
3-4 thin slices fresh lemon
1 shallot, sliced thinly
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
handful fresh herbs (such as parsley, chives and dill), chopped

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Pat fish dry with paper towels and season both sides as well as its cavity with salt and pepper. Rub the outside with a thin coat of olive oil. Coat the trimmed asparagus stalks with olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Place the lemon slices inside the cavity of the fish.

On an oven-safe pan such as a baking sheet, casserole or cast-iron pan, arrange the asparagus stalks on the bottom, spaced at least 1/2″ apart so that none touch one another. Place the fish on top of the asparagus to elevate it from the pan. Roast for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat a small pan with another tablespoon of olive oil over medium-high. Add the shallot slices and let them sizzle a few moments, stirring. Reduce heat when they begin to brown and continue to stir gently, about 1-2 minutes, or until evenly golden-brown. Transfer to a paper towel and let cool.

Remove from oven and check that the flesh is completely done by poking the fish gently inside the top of its back; if the flesh is completely opaque, rather than translucent, it’s done. Transfer to a serving plate, shower with the fresh herbs and shallots, and serve.

Cost Calculator
(for one serving)

1/2″ whole rainbow trout (at $10/lb): $5.00
6 stalks asparagus (at $4/large bunch): $1.00
about 1/2 lemon: $0.15
1 shallot: $0.30
handful fresh herbs (from houseplants): $0.25
salt, pepper, olive oil: $0.25

Total: $6.95

Health Factor

Four brownie points: You’ll want to include a starch such as a crusty baguette or whole grain if serving it alone as a meal, or serve it as the starring course of a longer menu of courses. But as such, it’s a healthy and hearty entree that’s full of protein and precious omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids from the substantial serving of fresh fish. When you’re getting whole fish that’s small enough to serve one portion (or two smaller portions), you can be assured that it carries a much lower level of toxins like mercury than big, carnivorous fish like salmone or tuna. These small fish simply haven’t lived as long to accumulate as much of the possible contaminants. The fresh, minimally prepared asparagus will provide you with lots of antioxidants like Vitamin C, Vitamin K and even Vitamin E, as well as a host of minerals like zinc, and a good fistful of fresh herbs will provide even more of that as they help flavor your plate.

Green Factor

Seven brownie points: A small-scale fish hatchery such as Max Creek is a great way to get your seafood outside of the wild, as long as its cleanly maintained. Sustainable aquaculture has made great strides in recent years, but the biggest challenge is knowing where your fish comes from and how it was caught or raised; shopping from local purveyors directly is key to alleviating that. Spring asparagus is being harvested for its short annual season right now locally, so it’s a great time to grab a bunch before it gets too warm to grow around here.

Part of this recipe is applicable to any time of year, in any part of the world you live, and it’s great to eat for any meal. The other part of this recipe involves a specific ingredient that’s not conventionally harvested, and only exists at a specific time in a plant’s life cycle. Combined, the earthy, savory and hearty element (chickpea stew) complements the youthful, bouncy and springlike element (flowering greens) for a fully satisfying, complete meal. Yes, a meal can be as simple as that.

I like to buy one exciting, cool, maybe expensive, or rare ingredient at a time, and keep a handy stock of basics at home with which to round it out. It’s an easy routine to make everyday cooking more fun and diverse, without being too overwhelming. This week it was a bunch of flowering kale. There are numerous types of edible leafy greens and herbs that flower at this point of the year — my indoor succulent plants are blooming right now, too. And, well, you may notice the fragrant trees outside. May flowers have certainly appeared. This annual bouquet is not typically thought of as a food lovers’ paradise, and scrupulous gardeners will trim flowers from plants to keep them focused on growing leaves and fruits, usually. Maybe you’ve snipped off the buds of your overwintered kale, broccoli, or chives in the home garden, and wondered if they could be eaten. In short, yes, and it seems increasingly the fashion to. But be wary of those thick stems.

flowering kale

The problem with flowering leafy greens is that although the blossoms are light and delicate, the stems and leaves have usually grown tough and fibrous by this stage, not very palatable. You know the old Lady Macbeth edict to “look like the innocent flower but be the serpent beneath it”? That’s kind of what flowering kale is like. Yet it’s one of the most common types of flowering greens I’ve found available the last couple weeks from farmers at the Greenmarkets. They look pretty enough to put in a vase, but they’re also edible and nutritious. You just have to soften the stems enough. 

after a quick toss on a hot grill pan

Grilling seemed the perfect way to do this. Roasting over high heat with a coating of olive oil will work, too. You can also trim off most of the stem, leaving only the more delicate tips before the flowers, and keeping most of the leaves along the way. But I kind of like the rough stems once they get a nice char, and are cut just enough to keep the pieces small and bite-size.

charred greens lend a subtle smokiness to the chickpea stew

And I like the addition of some smokiness to a chickpea and tomato stew. The toasty, crusty, frizzled blossoms will not only enhance the flavor of this warm, rustic dish but also its texture and overall appearance. My simple chickpea stew required few ingredients and little effort, but it improves when you give it plenty of time to simmer. So if you have the patience, pop open a can of whole, peeled tomatoes and rinse some chickpeas thoroughly if using canned ones, too (dried chickpeas take a really long time to become tender, fair warning). Chop up a little onion and garlic, splash in some white wine, and sip the rest of the bottle while you listen to this savory pot bubble ever so slightly a while. The greens can be grilled at the last few minutes of this; I broke out a grill pan in lieu of an outdoor space with a hibachi. A squeeze of lemon to finish it off with — or not — and this simple, rustic meal is ready. Your flower vases can sit this round out.

Chickpea Stew with Grilled Flowering Greens
(makes 3-4 servings)

1 bunch flowering kale, trimmed of the toughest ends of the stem and chopped to 2″ long pieces
2 8 oz. cans chickpeas, rinsed thoroughly and drained (or substitute 2 cups dried, soaked and fully cooked chickpeas)
1 8 oz can whole, peeled plum tomatoes and its juice, lightly crushed by hand (or substitute with 2-3 fresh plum tomatoes, chopped)
1/2 small red onion, finely chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup dry white wine
1 cup water
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1 bay leaf
salt and black pepper to taste
extra-virgin olive oil
squeeze of fresh lemon juice (optional)

Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pan or pot with a lid. Add the onions and a pinch of salt and cook over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic, paprika and bay leaf and stir another minute until fragrant. Add the crushed tomatoes and bring to a bubble (increasing heat to medium-high). Add the chickpeas, and once bubbling again, the white wine and let boil for about a minute. Reduce heat to a simmer, add the water, and cover. Let cook for as little as 20 minutes or as long as 1 hour. To reduce the liquid, remove cover to reach desired consistency. Or add more water if it’s becoming too dry. Season with salt and pepper to taste, remove the bay leaf, and add the optional squeeze of fresh lemon to taste.

Heat a grill pan over high. Toss the trimmed flowering greens with olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Once the pan is very hot, arrange the greens evenly across the pan. Let sit for a minute or so, then flip to brown the opposite side. Toss around a bit to cook evenly for a couple more minutes. Taste the stems to see if they’ve cooked enough to your liking. Top the chickpea stew with the grilled flowering greens for serving.

Cost Calculator
(for 3-4 servings)

2 cans chickpeas (at $1.49 each): $3.00
8 oz. plum tomatoes (at $3.99 large can): $2.00
1 bunch flowering kale: $3.00
1/2 onion: $0.25
3 cloves garlic: $0.10
salt, pepper, olive oil, paprika, bay leaf: $0.50
fresh lemon: $0.35

Total: $9.15

Health Factor

Three brownie points: Super good for you and your budget, too. You’ll be getting your antioxidants from the leaves and blossoms attached to that bunch of flowering greens, as well as some fiber from the stems. There’s much more fiber as well as protein in the chickpeas, which will fill you up just like a good starch. When using canned chickpeas and tomatoes both, you’ll want to keep your salt addition super low, and the dish will barely need any of it. These canned foods come with lots of sodium, so look for low-sodium varieties if you can.

Green Factor

Seven maple leaves: Very low on the carbon footprint thanks to its being an all plant-based meal. But also, if you or the farmer has been trimming its crops this spring, the rough, flowery stuff is a byproduct of this process. All the better to eat up those garden scraps when they’re as nutritious and appealing as these flowering greens.

Not sure what the heck to do with fiddlehead ferns this spring? Here’s a solution — pickle them. Then think about ways to use them for as long as you want.

Another locally foraged wild edible singular to the spring (see last week’s ramp recipe), fiddlehead ferns are pretty hard to pass up whenever you come across some at a farmers market. Their furled, fuzzy shape is reminiscent of an ornate scroll, or a violin’s carved tip. They’re cut from ferns, and biologically-speaking, the types of ferns from which can range. The fact that they’ve traditionally been foraged as food from regions from Asia to Europe and Central America can tip you off to this diversity. And before you jump to conclusions that they’re foraged for their adorable appearance’s sake only, these fern-tips are incredibly nutritious across the board. That is, as long as you don’t choose the poisonous ones.

Most of the ferns you’ll find at farmers markets here in New York are from the ostrich fern plant, and they’re literally snipped at the bud in the spring, before the plant has the chance to unfold its billowy fronds. They’re totally edible. But it’s widely advised to boil or steam fiddleheads before eating to wash away excess tannins, and bitter flavors. Therefore, before pickling these fiddleheads, you should take this step first, and rinse thoroughly. The fiddleheads will continue to cook in the hot brine a bit after it’s been poured over, and while the jar is processing.

fiddlehead ferns, straight from the field

I’ve followed a pretty standard procedure for “cold-pack” pickling, which requires a good mason jar with a screw-on lid, which eventually seals its contents air-tight. I chose red wine vinegar as the base for the brine, a sweeter-tasting, slightly floral variety as opposed to more acidic candidates like apple cider vinegar. And because I wanted these fiddlehead pickles to pack a little bite, I added four raw garlic cloves to the jar along with my pint of fiddleheads. Some mixed peppercorns and a pinch of red chili flakes boiled with the brine as my pickling spices. You could add to them mustard seeds, fennel seeds, allspice, or dried herbs like oregano as well.

whole garlic cloves add a pungent bite

As soon as the hot brine is poured into the jar of fiddleheads and screwed shut, place the jar in a bath of boiling water — standing upright — to “process” it for ten minutes. It’s simple. After this step, there comes a nervous stretch of anticipation. It takes as little as twenty minutes or a few hours until the jar’s lid sucks in, with an audible “pop” usually, which means the jar is sealed for good. You can keep it outside of refrigeration, preferably out of sunlight, for as long as you want now. They look so pretty you probably won’t want to too soon.

the finished jar, post-processing in a red wine vinegar-based brine

That’s where I am now, thinking of all the sandwiches and salads that I could sprinkle these pickles on. I’ll probably wait at least until the summer, when fiddlehead ferns are no longer to be found.

Garlic-Pickled Fiddlehead Ferns
(makes 1 pint)

1 pint-sized mason jar with a screw-on lid
1 pint fiddlehead ferns, rinsed free of dry husks and dirt
4 peeled, whole garlic cloves
1 teaspoon mixed peppercorns
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 cup red or white wine vinegar
1/2 cup water

Place the mason jar and its lid in a pot of enough boiling water to completely submerge. Let boil submerged for 10-15 minutes to sanitize. Remove carefully with tongs. Keep the pot of hot water to use for processing soon.

Bring a small pot of water to a boil and drop in the fiddlehead ferns. Let boil for 10 minutes, or until completely softened and tender. Drain and rinse the fiddleheads with cold water. Place into the sanitized mason jar along with the garlic cloves.

Bring the vinegar, 1/2 cup water, salt and peppercorns to a boil in a small pot. Stir until salt is thoroughly dissolved. Pour boiling-hot mixture into the mason jar until filled to a tiny fraction of an inch to the top. Screw on lid tightly. Place the entire jar, standing upright, in a pot of enough boiling water to reach about 3/4 of its height. (Don’t submerge the jar.) Let it boil for 10 minutes to “process” the jar. Remove carefully with tongs and set out to cool. Once the jar’s lid sucks in so that it can no longer be pressed in the center downward, it’s sealed. Store at room temperature away from sunlight (like in a cupboard). Refrigerate after opening the jar.

Cost Calculator
(for 1 pint jar of pickles)

1 pint fiddlehead ferns: $5.00
1 cup red wine vinegar: $1.00
4 garlic cloves: $0.20
1 tablespoon salt, 1 teaspoon whole peppercorns: $0.20

Total: $6.40

Health Factor

Four brownie points: Assuming you don’t get botulism (by not properly processing the jar so it never seals in), this is a delightful pickle with health benefits. (Sorry if that was scary, as well as the poisonous fern-mentioning part above.) Fiddlehead ferns are naturally rich in antioxidants, and they’re also unique amongst most plants for providing omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids. However, pickling them in a high-sodium solution (albeit necessary for preserving) will render them very salty, so not something you want to eat in mass quantity anyway.

Green Factor

Eight maple leaves: The wild-foraged seasonal treats are one major advantage that small farmers such as those selling at their farmers market stands has against big-ag competitors, such as at the conventional grocery store. Here they’ve foraged for these rare specialties, and here you can only get them, lest you go plucking yourself. Give props and enjoy them while in season.

Spring is in the air — and greens are in the earth. According to a friend who tends a farm Upstate, only the last couple weeks have granted the consistency of warmth needed to thaw the ground and allow for new plantings to begin. Rejoice! But then, not all plants need to be planted, per se. Some prefer to seed spontaneously, in the wild. Introducing the season of wild onions, including those most coveted now in New York City — ramps.

The farmers markets throughout the city have been showing off the first arrivals of these elegant allium. Ramps are noticeable for their long and slender, pinkish-tinted bulbs and flat-leaved shoots, but they’re distinctive for their mellow, sweet flavor, too. They aren’t cultivated, but rather foraged, and prefer to grow nearby ponds and rivers. Rare, wild, delicate and mild, they offer so many uses, you see.

wild ramps

To celebrate the mild, sweet flavors of spring, I thought I’d sprinkle them into a light pasta dish. Although they aren’t in season just yet (but will be soon), some peas sounded good company here. Peas are one of the few vegetables that freezes and reheats quite well in its raw state. I’m not sure why anyone would buy them in cans when they’re so fresh-tasting and easy to use from the freezer.

cut to long and slender pieces

One more addition to this pasta dish comes from a chance encounter at a butcher shop. I’d attended a butchering demonstration at the longstanding East Village Meat Market last week. While we had gathered to hear about the newly formed Adirondack Grazers Cooperative and watch skilled experts break down a side of their beef, I became smitten with the meat market’s own house-cured “City Ham,” set on a table for snacking. So smoky-tasting and moist, it stood out amongst all the charcuterie we sampled, and kept me slightly distracted from the cuts of raw beef being cut up and plopped on the carving table like great piles of fish. So I took home a whole pound of this ham, in slices. I’m sure the beef would have tasted great, too.

the meat market’s “City Ham” is thinly sliced

A good ham can be hard to find, and it’s underrated in my opinion. Wherever bacon can be used, finely diced, for flavor, so could some salty, smoky, but less fatty ham. I thought it would make the perfect complement for the sweet, spring ramps and peas. And after a very quick, no-more-than-fifteen-minute cooking session, it did satisfy. The ham and ramps are just barely cooked, and kept in long slivers — I didn’t want to break the composition of the ramps too much, and the ham didn’t need any improvement from crisping. Just a little sweat on the pan to spread around its juices, which were absorbed by the pasta that was stirred in after a few moments of this.

You might notice that I’ve used a whole-grain shaped pasta for this dish, and the type that I found is actually made with farro. I’d found the fancy, Italian pasta at BKLYN Larder recently, and think that its nutty complexities add pleasant layers of earthiness to this dish. Try this with a whole wheat pasta, or just your favorite semolina variety instead. Just be sure to cook it al dente, and splash in a good ladle of the starchy cooking water, which will take on the smokiness of the ham.

Pasta With Ramps, Peas and Ham
(makes 3-4 servings)

1 lb shaped pasta (preferably whole grain)
2-3 small slices cured ham, cut to thin strips
1 cup frozen peas (or fresh when in season)
1 bunch wild ramps, cut to 1-inch pieces along its shoot and bulbs halved lengthwise
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
optional 1 tablespoon butter
salt and pepper to taste

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and drop in pasta; stir immediately.

Heat a wide saute pan with the olive oil. Add the ham slices, and stir a few moments. Add the ramps and peas and stir another minute. Once pasta is cooked al dente, transfer with a slotted spoon or tongs immediately to the saute pan of other ingredients, along with about 1/2 cup of its cooking liquid. Season with a pinch of salt and pepper to taste. Stirring, let cook another minute or so to meld the flavors and cook off most of the liquid. Remove from heat and stir in the optional tablespoon of butter. Serve immediately.

Cost Calculator
(for 3-4 servings)

1 lb fancy pasta: $8.99
1 bunch ramps: $4.00
2 slices ham (at $8.99/lb): $0.50
1 cup frozen peas: $0.50
2 tablespoons olive oil: $0.25
1 tablespoon butter: $0.30

Total: $14.55

Health Factor

Five brownie points: You can use just a small amount of ham to “ham up” any dish, rather than making it the main substance. That way, you’ll get less cholesterol and smokey flavor. This pasta is likewise studded fairly sparsely with vegetables, too, so as to highlight the subtle flavor of ramps. But ramps themselves provide lots of Vitamin K thanks to their leafy green shoots, as well as a host of phytochemicals present in onions. Peas add a little more protein, and so does the pasta if using whole-grain.

Green Factor

Six maple leaves: The imported, fancy pasta I’ve used doesn’t help decrease the fossil fuels spendings of this dish, and I’m not sure how humanely raised or local the house-smoked ham was from the East Village butcher store — but wild ramps can only be found from small, local farms that bother to gather them. Grab ‘em while you can this spring.

I’m suffering from a slight sunburn today, but it pales in comparison to the burning sensations experienced at the first-ever NYC Hot Sauce Expo yesterday. Held over a two-day weekend at the East River Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, the show featured dozens of small-batch hot sauce makers from around the country. The outdoor event spanned the public park, just across the river from Manhattan’s skyline, on an especially sunny spring day. Other participating vendors offered craft beers, vodka for Bloody Marys, grilled cheese, biscuits and chicken nuggets to soak up the sauce.

If spice is your sauce, there were a lot of artisanal bottles to explore. There were vendors who’d come to New York all the way from Dallas to Vermont. I have to say that one of the most interesting things about the expo was seeing all the different labels people designed for their hot sauce bottles. There seemed to be a noticeable exclamation point to each label – with colors, crazy fonts, animal mascots, and badass words like, “rippin’,” “torchbearer” and “puckerbutt” – as if the pepper burn itself weren’t enough to kick you in the a$#. Luckily, this was a tasting event, so we got to taste as well as see every sauce on display, and chat up the makers themselves at their stands.

I was surprised to find five local New York City-based hot sauce brands at the expo: NYC Hot Sauce Co., A&B American Style, David Rosengarten Selection, Pinata, and Guyank. Walking through the rows of tents, I tried them all, along with many other companies’ along the way. At NYC Hot Sauce Co., owned by a Texas native food enthusiast, I even got to try his new experiment of dried-out pepper pulp post-straining for the sauce. This, blended with some sea salt, resulted in a tasty spice blend or rub. I was impressed to hear that both this company and A&B American Style sourced many of their vegetables from Brooklyn Grange rooftop farm during its growing season, too.

grilled cheese to soothe the burn

a cooling cuke is dusted with post pepper sauce-making spice blend

The hot sauce vendors were all competing in several categories of judging for awards at the expo, for instance, for “Habanero based” sauces, “Louisiana style” sauces, “Pepper blend,” “Chipotle” or “Fruit-based.” There were many categories and many happy winners by the end of the day. I didn’t get to extract all the info on who won what, however, because of what happened to me next (read on). Check the official website for updates to see if your favorite sauce took home honors.

I was tasting some wing sauce out of a plastic spoon when my palate began to panic a bit. Each consecutive hot sauce that I’d tasted grew with a cumulative effect of searing my tongue. I wandered to the beer garden, and there found a few friends of mine standing around – Mary from My Life on Craft and Dave, a chef and oyster shucker at Jimmy’s No. 43. I got myself a cup of Coney Island pilsner and tried to soften my tongue on its foam. But because I was visibly suffering, Dave offered to grab some milk from his fridge nearby, and before I could protest, he was back with a whole pint of whole milk. I downed it, and immediately began to feel much better. I returned to the beer.

I was just about fully recovered when my friend Matt Timms, founder of The Takedowns and a special judge at the event’s Bloody Mary competition tapped me on the shoulder. He held out a palm full of something golden and sparkling in the sun. “Try this peanut brittle. It’s really spicy,” he warned.

Matt Timms: don’t take candy from this guy

I took a big piece and chewed a moment. The pleasure lasted about one and a half seconds. I held out my palm to share the peanut brittle with my other friends but before they could grab any, I doubled over with a coughing fit. Some sort of dry, gasping sensation had hit me in the back of my throat. To prolong the burn, the candy had glued to my molars so that when I tried to swab it free with my tongue, it spread another streak of pain throughout my mouth. Once the coughing had stopped, I rightened myself and tried to see straight. My milk cup had a tiny drop left in it, which I tried to “milk” for what it was worth. But my mouth was still burning. My nose began running. My forehead began sweating. I ducked indoors, leaving my friends and beer abruptly behind, in search of something to relieve my slack-jawed mouth with. I grabbed a cube of Jarlsberg cheese, placed out on a tray next to toothpicks for sampling. I couldn’t taste anything as my teeth crumbled the curds hastily. I grabbed a bottle of water next, and a tissue. I waited for the ache to lessen, finding myself for a moment of blurry vision in a line for the ladies’ room and deciding that I’d better stay there. It took another ten minutes or so to regain composure, and blot my tearing eyes dry. I later learned from Matt that the culprit candy was something called “peanut brootal,” although I still don’t know the psychopath who made it. 

host and Food Karma Projects founder Jimmy Carbone, with the lovely rep from Jarlsberg, enjoying a Bloody Mary from fellow sponsor Tito’s Handmade Vodka 

So yeah, the NYC Hot Sauce Expo was everything that it should and could be, in my opinion. And judging from the  great crowd that turned out for it, and all the many hot sauces yet to make their pilgrimage here, I think it’s only the beginning of defining all that. Who knew New York could be the next destination for hot sauce? I say let’s fire it up again next year. And one suggestion: perhaps set up a “milk bar” in addition to beer.

This is an example of the sum really exceeding the parts. There are so few parts to this, too — sweet winter spinach, creamy ricotta, buttered toast, a tinge of fresh nutmeg and hint of green onion. But combined in a warm mess to soak into crisp bread, it’s a savory comfort of sublime proportions.

It’s my kind of spinach dip — a little deconstructed, with pure and simple ingredients. You can even make the ricotta yourself, if you have some milk and cheesecloth to spare. And if anyone has gardened last season, you might notice the overwintered spinach is still springing from the dirt, and has taken on new depths of flavor from withstanding the frost.

winter spinach

That’s right, they call this winter spinach, the kind that’s dug from the ground after it’s warmed over in the spring. It’s desirable amongst chefs for its markedly sweeter taste. It might appear a bit raggedly, and its leaves will be deep-green and thicker than back in the fall, almost like a succulent plant. But those that make it this far into the season are special treats, and they’re available still in New York City’s Greenmarkets, where I picked up my very sizable bunch.

roughly torn or chopped

two scallions are given a quick chop

It’s great for cooking with, although if you can find very intact-looking leaves, go ahead with a fresh salad. I decided to try out a pint of farm-made ricotta from Vermont, too, and the idea of baking something warm and luscious just called to me.

fresh ricotta

This dish might look like very standard European fare, thanks to the ricotta and warm toast for dipping. But it actually has a lot in common with the classic Punjabi dish, saag paneer, a hearty mixture of super cooked-down leafy greens (commonly mustards) stirred bits of Indian fresh cheese, paneer. It can be served with rice or dipped with naan, and I’d made a version of it with kale last winter. There’s something universally appealing about this simple mixture, and I’m convinced it can be tweaked to the style of just about any cuisine in the world (Bryant Terry’s The Inspired Vegan includes a recipe inspired by it using tofu instead of cheese.)

enriching the just-cooked spinach with cheese

placing the ramekin in an oven-safe dish filled with water

I’d originally planned to bake or poach an egg into the center of the warm spinach and ricotta mixture, for extra moisture and richness. But after tasting the ricotta leftover on my spoon, I decided to go whole hog with that ingredient alone. Fresh, creamy, good ricotta deserves a spotlight. And since it was unpasteurized, well, it would go bad in my fridge soon.

whole nutmeg

Once the ramekin was baked so that the spinach was ultra-tender I plopped another dollop of cold ricotta on top, for some cool contrast. The cheese began melting into the warm mixture immediately. A little shaving of nutmeg on top of that lent a nice contrast, accenting the subtle sweetness of both the cheese and spinach. Stack up your toasts for this one — you’ll want to dig in. Get it while it’s warm, and you’ll have eaten a great pile of healthy spinach in one blissful sitting.

Baked Spinach and Ricotta with Toast
(makes 2 small servings or 1 large, meal-sized portion)

2 large bunches fresh spinach, washed and stems trimmed
2 scallions or 1 leek (white and light green parts only), chopped
1 tablespoons fresh ricotta
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
pinch of ground nutmeg (preferably freshly grated from whole nuts)
3-4 slices toast, buttered

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Heat the olive oil over medium-low heat in a saucepan and add the chopped scallions or leeks. Season with salt and pepper and cook, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Tear or coarsely chop all the spinach leaves and add to the pan. Let them cook down, stirring occasionally, for 3-4 more minutes or until all the liquids have been drawn out and the pan begins to dry out. Season with salt to taste. Stir in one tablespoon of the ricotta and remove from heat.

Pour the spinach mixture into a small baking dish, or large ramekin (or two small ramekins). Place in a casserole or loaf pan and fill it with hot water so that it reaches at least half the height of the ramekins. Place in the oven and let cook for 20-25 minutes. Remove and carefully lift the ramekins from the hot water bath using hot mitts. Spoon the remaining 1 tablespoon ricotta on top of each, and top with a sprinkle of the grated nutmeg. Serve with the toast.

Cost Calculator
(for 1 or 2 servings)

2 bunches winter spinach: $3.00
2 scallions: $0.50
2 tablespoons fresh ricotta (at $8/lb): $1.00
1 tablespoon olive oil: $0.20
salt, pepper, nutmeg: $0.10
3 slices toast: $0.50

Total: $5.30

Health Factor

Three brownie points: So rich and so satisfying, yet so healthy and nutrient-dense. You’ll be getting a huge serving of the superfood spinach with this easy snack or light meal, and that’s a wallop of Vitamin K, Vitamin C, Vitamin A, Vitamin E, iron, fiber, potassium, calcium and so many more nutrients. Spring colds, begone! There’s also calcium and protein in the ricotta cheese, along with a bit of cholesterol, but with just two tablespoon for one large serving, it’s fairly minimal use of fats.

Green Factor

Nine maple leaves: Here’s to using up the last stragglers from last harvest season, straight from the farm. This overwintered spinach was from New Jersey’s Phillips Farm, at many Greenmarket locations in NYC, and the similarly weathered-looking scallions from them as well. And the small-batch ricotta from a farm in Vermont that grazes its animals was a delicious alternate to conventional dairy’s version, which you can taste.

Is there anything more heavenly when breakfast time calls than potatoes cooked crispy in butter? Yes, I can think of something — when those potatoes mingle with the sweet flavors of root vegetables, also cooked crispy, in butter. There are simpler ways to combine these forces, as in a golden hash or a roasted tray of assorted chunks. I’ve slipped root vegetables ranging from parsnips and sweet potatoes to rutabagas and sunchokes into platters of these for many breakfasts past. But for a slightly more dressy display of this variety, I’ve layered thin slices into a pan-cooked galette.

I’ve made it sound easy but there are a few pointers in order to make this galette stay intact. Potatoes are for structure; the root vegetables are for flavor. (That, and butter.) The thing wouldn’t really hold together if it were composed entirely of roots. What is a galette, this thing, by the way? By definition, it is a loosely formed, or “rustic” cake or tart, usually round and composed a great deal by hand rather than sophisticated devices. The way I’ve conceived of this savory version might also deem it an upside-down potato (and root vegetable) cake, made in a simple pan without any additional starches or binding agents. It sounds fancy, but it is rooted in humble tradition, essentially.

a wintry mix: carrot, sweet potato, parsnip and celery root

And the seasonal produce right now in NYC is still rooted in, well, roots. I was recently tasked with making a huge lot of some kind of finger food as hors d’oeuvres for a party for GoodEggs.com, which recently launched in Brooklyn. This site allows customers to browse several unique “webstands” of food producers in their area, and of course gives local producers a convenient venue to sell their products — online. (I’ve recently moved my Farmers Market Fix dinner kits to this platform, and look forward to featuring a new menu of offerings each month on the webstand.) It’s been tried true in the Bay Area for the last couple years, and to kick off the Brooklyn chapter, Good Eggs celebrated at Parish Hall in Williamsburg Wednesday night. I made platters of mixed vegetable mini pancakes, or latkes, topped with local dairy farm Ronnybrook creme fraiche and chives. And for most of those vegetables — potatoes, parsnips, celery root, sweet potatoes and carrots — I sourced from the Upstate NY-based Fishkill Farms, also available on Good Eggs.

I wasn’t quite done with cooking root veggies and potatoes to crispy bliss after this party, and there’s still no asparagus in sight for local farms. So this savory pancake made the perfect breakfast the next day, to use up the last scraps of said veggies. (I had been too busy refilling platters of the latkes to partake in eating too much.)

potatoes, pre-slicing with the peels intact

Because they’re starchier, you’ll need to use at least half potatoes to other root vegetables for this galette. Potatoes just have a way of sticking together, whereas the slivers of roots alternate in the galette like exotic — and slippery — leaves. Plus, they smack of classic breakfast comfort food, which you can smell as they sizzle in the buttered pan. I created the edge of the galette with potatoes only, to provide some permanent framework. Parsnip, sweet potato, celery root and carrot slices were piled mostly in the center, along with more potatoes. Everything was sliced fairly thinly, so the cooking time was minimal from start to finish. If you don’t have the help of a mandoline to achieve this, as I did, then you could always slice them slightly bigger, and par-cook the slices by boiling them a couple minutes before layering in a pan.

arranging the slivers in a fan-like array

I’ve used a cast-iron pan that goes from stovetop to oven, to finish the cooking. Perhaps the hardest part of the plan here is inverting the hot pan onto a flat plate to serve. Use caution! But thanks to that butter, it plopped out easily, and was a beautiful sight for my morning appetite. Topped with hot sauce, a fried egg, or just chives and some sea salt, this breakfast makes boring winter vegetables look — and taste — really good.

Potato and Root Vegetable Galette
(makes 1 9-inch cake, or 2-3 servings)

4 medium potatoes, scrubbed and thinly sliced
1 carrot, scrubbed and thinly sliced
1 parsnip, peeled and thinly sliced
1 small sweet potato, scrubbed and thinly sliced
1/2 celery root, peeled well and thinly sliced
1 tablespoon butter
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper
handful of chopped chives or other fresh herbs for garnish

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Toss all the sliced vegetables in the olive oil and a few pinches of salt and pepper. Melt the butter over medium-high heat in an oven-safe, 9-inch pan. Make sure the butter touches all around the edges of the pan. Arrange the potato slices, overlapping generously, along the edge of the pan. Arrange potato alternating with the rest of the root vegetable slices in rings throughout the center of the pan. Layer the top with more alternating slices of root vegetables and potatoes, making sure to space the potatoes evenly throughout, until all the vegetables are used up.

Cover the pan partially (with a large lid or loosely wrapped foil) and transfer to the oven. Let cook for 20 minutes. Uncover and check; if the vegetable slices have mostly turned translucent, remove cover and continue cooking for another 10 minutes, or until the edges of the galette are visibly lightly browned. If most are still pretty opaque, keep the cover on for the remaining time. Remove from oven. Loosen the edges of the galette with a spatula to make sure they won’t stick. Holding the handle carefully with hot mitts, place a flat plate on top of the pan, and quickly invert the pan and plate. Garnish the top with the fresh herbs and a sprinkle of salt and serve immediately.

Cost Calculator
(for 2-3 servings)

4 potatoes (at $1.50/lb): $2.00
1 parsnip (at $2/lb): $0.75
1 carrot (at $2/lb): $0.60
1 small sweet potato (at $2/lb): $1.00
1/2 celery root (at $3/lb): $1.00
1 Tb butter: $0.35
2 tablespoons olive oil, salt, pepper: $0.25
handful fresh chives: $0.25

Total: $5.15

Health Factor

Five brownie points: You not only get more flavor but more vitamins and nutrients from adding some root vegetables to your average potato-based starch dish: Vitamin A and C from the carrots and sweet potato, and lots of fiber and potassium from the parsnip and celery root. I’ve kept the peels on most vegetables, like the potatoes and sweet potato, to remain more nutrients and because they’re sliced so thinly they’re not a nuisance to the palate. This isn’t the best full-fledged meal in itself, but rounded out with a green salad and an egg for protein, it’s a great start to your day.

Green Factor

Nine brownie points: This dish teeters as close as they come to being fully locally and seasoned produced, with the only exceptions being olive oil, salt and pepper. Moreover, these vegetables and butter were purchased from friendly farms that are doing their part to revive the local food system, and practice safe and healthy principles in the field. You can easily do your part by supporting farms like this, too.

Sssizzle. One simple technique — searing — can add dramatic layers of flavor, even in places where you’d less expect it. A salad, for instance. I’ve had slightly charred radicchio and even romaine lettuce, but there’s something about sweet savoy cabbage, with its crinkly leaves, that tastes divine when given the treatment. Also, cabbage, in its many shapes and colors, is inexpensive, hardy, and readily available at a (yes, it’s still) winter farmers market. But the weather is getting warmer, and so it’s time for a salad — one that makes a good meal.

It takes just a few hot seconds to render a once bland cabbage into a smoky, crisp, and flavorful salad green. Because cabbage is tougher than lettuces, it won’t completely wilt from the process, but soften at the edges just enough to make the leaves more delicate — and sort of like bibb or Boston lettuce. I decided to sear a roughly 1-inch cross-section of a cabbage head to achieve this effect more thoroughly; the flat surface maximizes the contact with the hot pan. I also smeared the exposed side of cabbage with sea salt and olive oil, to amplify that charred flavor. You can try this recipe with red cabbage, napa cabbage, or common green cabbage as well as savoy cabbage, too.

a cross-section of savoy cabbage, green cabbage’s crinkly cousin

The charred cabbage might make a decent replacement for a crisp topping in a salad like croutons or crumbled bacon… or complement it for more of that instead. I thought I’d treat myself to the latter topping, and one strip of bacon goes a long way in adding salty, umami bursts. While the pan was cooling after searing the cabbage (and the torched cabbage cross-section, cooling down a bit), the bacon was thrown onto it for just a few minutes, flipping once, and I never even had to turn the heat back on.

chopping out the thick core with a V-shaped chunk

Like cabbage, potatoes are abundant all winter long, and I never did get around to combining them in a pot a few weeks ago along with corned beef on St. Patty’s Day. So, thinking of classic combinations, I simply boiled some small red potatoes and sliced them to wedges once they were cooled. A single shoot of scallion chopped up made a  fresh, zesty addition to this mix. It’s a filling and fairly well-rounded salad given just these four ingredients, but some good additions you could also toss in might include hard-boiled egg, avocado, or tomatoes, cut to wedges like the spuds.

after an encounter with an angry pan

With seared cabbage as the main ingredient, there is a drastically decreased need for dressing in this salad, in my opinion. It’s already fairly seasoned — with sea salt, olive oil, and its burnt natural sugars. I could be fine with just a squeeze of lemon in the bowl. But the potatoes might benefit from a little help, so I whisked up a quick vinaigrette with lemon, oil, and a dab of Dijon mustard.

When it comes time to break out the backyard grill (maybe even next weekend?), keep in mind this little charred trick for all your vegetable sides, even the cool, crunchy salad.

Seared Savoy Cabbage Salad with Potatoes, Bacon & Scallions and Lemon-Dijon Vinaigrette
(makes about 2 servings)

1-inch thick cross section of a medium-large savoy cabbage head, core cut out
2-3 strips bacon, cooked crispy
3-4 baby potatoes (preferably waxy types such as red or Yukon gold)
1-2 scallions, chopped
sea salt
olive oil

for the dressing:
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2-3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
salt and black pepper to taste

Heat a heavy-bottomed pan (such as cast-iron) with about 2 tablespoons olive oil over high heat. Smear a small amount of olive oil and a generous pinch of sea salt on one flat, cut side of the cabbage section. Once oil is just beginning to jump a bit in the pan, place down the seasoned side of the cabbage. Don’t move for about 10-20 seconds. Check the bottom, and once sufficiently browned, immediately remove cabbage from pan with tongs and turn off heat. (You can let the pan cool down a couple minutes, and with its residual heat, cook the bacon until crispy in it.) 

Let the cabbage cool a few minutes to room-temperature. The opposite side should be still fairly crunchy and cool. Break up the cross-section a bit by hand once it’s cool enough to handle.

In a small bowl, whisk together the mustard and lemon juice. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil while whisking. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Toss the potatoes and cabbage with the dressing in a large bowl. Serve with the crumbled bacon and chopped scallions for garnish.

Cost Calculator
(for 2 servings)

1-inch cross section of a cabbage head (at $1.50/lb): $0.30
2 strips bacon (at $9/lb): $1.50
1 scallion: $0.25
3 baby potatoes: $0.50
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice: $0.20
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard: $0.25
salt, pepper, 5-6 tablespoons olive oil: $0.50

Total: $3.50

Health Factor

Five brownie points: I’m tempted to give this a far better health factor rating, since it involves Vitamin C and phytonutrient-rich winter cabbage so heavily. And compared to all the components in a classic Cobb salad, it’s much less rich and decadent. But along with all that fresh, veggie-based nutrition, potassium and filling starches from the potatoes, there is some cholesterol from the bacon, although it’s used to enhance flavors rather than serve as a main protein, and come to think of it, there really is no main protein here at all. Take the good and bad.

Green Factor

Eight maple leaves: You can still make a vibrant and flavorful meal with what little is in season currently. Searing the cabbage, using the most best potatoes (you might notice those are heirloom Adirondack Red baby potatoes in the photo), using a bit of local farm-made bacon or sausage will help this quest. The bulk of this meal came from an average day at the farmers market, and these three ingredients (potatoes, cabbage, bacon) can also be found at one all year.

There are two ways to prepare squid (aka calamari) with succulent results: very quickly, as in searing, grilling, or flash-frying; or very long, as in braising, stewing, or slow-roasting. Anywhere in between will yield rubbery, rigid bands like undercooked cartilage. I went with the latter preparation for this late-winter, almost-springlike, one-seafood stew. It could be plopped on top of pasta, or sopped up with pieces of bread. Tentacles had never been more tender.

Because I’m a stickler for quick recipes, this wasn’t intuitive to me. But I recently had a braised squid dish at a tapas night out with friends, and the soft, buttery morsels practically melted in my mouth. There was something almost pasta-like about its texture, and not the al dente pasta that I tend to prefer, but more like yesterday’s reheated tangle of tagliatelle, or fresh ravioli, that had fully absorbed its tangy sauce. I had to try this out. What’s an hour of waiting when there was something new to taste?

Time besides, this dish is intentionally easy, using only a handful of ingredients — most of which pantry staples. I went with Southern Italian standards, using lots of garlic, some chopped capers for piquancy and a sprinkle of red chili flakes. Because it’s a seafood dish, you wouldn’t want to shower it with grated pecorino as a garnish; alright, if you must, I won’t blame you, but a twist of black pepper and drizzle of good olive oil goes a long way instead.

Cleaned squid is simple to prepare, and sometimes they come in such tiny pieces, I don’t see much need to chop them up. But to render equal, bite-size pieces, just run a knife along the lengths of their bodies, to cut rings. The delicate tentacles at the end can be kept intact; they’re the best parts, in my opinion. Squid also doesn’t smell like much, as long as they’re fresh. And since they’re so plentiful in so many shores, it’s easy to find them fresh, and inexpensive to boot. These Long Island-caught squid were just $4/lb from Blue Moon Fish’s stand at the Greenmarket — each seafood monger there usually has them all year ’round.

If you put up tomatoes last summer in jars, good for you as they’d be great to use in the sauce. I’ve recently used up my last jar — yes, I’m eager for spring and summer to arrive. Canned tomatoes are just as fine, if more robust than a fresh tomato-based sauce. This will cook for a good 45 minutes to an hour, not quite intensifying as much as a good Sunday sauce or ragu. I’ve added a bay leaf for depth along with the capers and spicy chili flakes. Fresh herbs to sprinkle on top of your finished dish are recommended, like parsley or oregano (my pick).

Like the sunny and brisk weather right now, I think this is a great intermediate dish between winter and spring. Not as heavy as meaty tomato stews or sauces, nor as light as fresh vegetable-based ones, nor as pungent as puttanesca or as reminiscent of the sea as something with clams, it features a different type of protein, that’s mild and delicate. Tender tentacles, that is.

Calamari and Tomato Stew with Capers and Chilies
(makes 2-3 servings)

1 lb cleaned, whole squid, cut to similar-sized rings along the bodies and keeping the tentacles intact
1 cup dry white wine
about 12 oz. canned tomatoes, gently crushed
1/2 large or 1 small onion, finely chopped
1/2 carrot, finely chopped
3-4 minced garlic cloves
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon capers, coarsely chopped
1/4 tsp red chili flakes
salt and pepper to taste
2-3 tablespoons good extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh parsley or other herbs, chopped, for garnish

Heat a couple tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy-bottomed saucepan that comes with a lid. Add the onions, carrots and a pinch of salt and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, for 6-8 minutes, or until well softened. Add the garlic, capers and chili flakes and cook another few seconds. Increase heat to medium-high and add the calamari. Cook, stirring, until no longer translucent, about 1 minute. Add a pinch of salt and the bay leaf. Add the wine and bring to a boil. Add the tomatoes and bring just to a boil, stirring. Reduce heat to a gentle simmer and cover. Let simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour, checking to add a splash of water or reducing heat if the liquid is cooking down too much.

Season with salt and pepper to taste. Remove from heat and drizzle in the extra tablespoon of olive oil, and fresh herbs for garnish.

Cost Calculator
(for 2-3 servings)

1 lb cleaned squid: $4.00
1/2 onion: $0.25
1/2 carrot: $0.25
3 cloves garlic: $0.20
1 cup white wine (at $10/bottle): $1.50
12 oz. canned tomatoes: $2.00
1 tablespoon chopped herbs: $0.50
3-4 tablespoons olive oil: $0.40
salt, pepper, chili flakes, bay leaf: $0.25

Total: $9.35

Health Factor

Five brownie points: This is not the most well-rounded dish, but works great as a part of a larger, family-style spread. Served with vegetables as sides like salad or sauteed greens, it makes a satisfying and light protein entree, or a tasty appetizer to serve with bread. Squid provides protein, but like most shellfish it’s also high in cholesterol. Good thing then that, like most shellfish, it’s rich in omega-3 fatty acids, which help balance your bad fats at the same time.

Green Factor

Seven maple leaves: I’ve been trying to use up odds and ends like half-chopped onions and carrots from my crisper drawer, as these winter produce staples keep piling up. This is a great way to do them off into a slow-cooked sauce. Canned tomatoes are ubiquitous all year round, although they’re often imported from Italy (in the summer months, try using fresh tomatoes instead). Finally, depending on how it’s caught, squid is considered a “best choice” or “good alternative” seafood according to Seafood Watch, and they’re available locally all year long.

I have been seriously craving hamburgers lately. Not the cutely compressed, miniature snack-cum-calorie-whoppers wrapped in grease-blotched paper, but the mean, towering, impressive type stuffed with fixins’ that might come with a steak knife at the side. Oddly, though, I was craving the whole big sandwich affair more so than meat, and wondered if that could be sated without.

I see the term “veggie burger” as a broad, open canvas to fill in with whatever ingredients that simply aren’t meat. I think there should be some proteins in it, as the patty is meant to function as that portion of one’s diet. So I went with black beans as its main component, which, once fully cooked, slightly mashed, and browned on a pan, have a darkish cast more resembling true hamburgers than other beans.

I have no illusions about a black bean-studded “veggie” burger satisfying just like a juicy, beef burger. I think that’s an improper assessment of the goal of making a veggie burger, and sure to lead to some disappointment. For me, this was about making a robust and tasty sandwich, with some of my favorite components. And I happen to really like black beans, just for what they are — who doesn’t? Hearty, creamy and filling, they go exceptionally well with a few simple seasonings, and a variety of vegetables.

This is where the next main component of this burger comes in: sauteed greens, packed in there, along with some leeks. I thought this would lend texture to the patty, as well as ample nutritional benefit. Yes, rather than some sad leaf of lettuce inside the bun, or a tiny, baby greens side salad next the burger, this veggie burger patty encompasses about one fourth of a bunch of Swiss chard itself. (You might try the same with other mild-tasting greens like spinach or kale.) The red Swiss chard with its bright, tiny chunks of stem also brought dimensions of color to this meal. Sure, you could sautee a lot of Swiss chard to place in between the patty and bun, but I feared that the stringy bits would get stuck in my teeth this way, or else fall out of the burger for the most part.

I was surprised by how much Swiss chard I was able to fold into the cooked beans and still keep it malleable enough to form into balls. To help out with this considerably, I employed nature’s best binding agent: a single egg, beaten to spread throughout. This made the lightly mashed beans much stickier, and eventually hold together once the egg cooks through. You’ll want to sautee your greens and leeks until they’re completely dry, as extra moisture will weaken this bind. Also, cool off the beans once they’re fully cooked until there’s no more steam or liquid hiding at the bottom of the bowl.

Finally, it’s time for some fixins’. Since it’s winter, we don’t have ruby-red rounds of tomato in season around here. However, we do have crunchy, deep fuchsia beets, and these can be made pucker-worthy by quick-pickling in vinegar for a bit. No need to even cook the beet first; just peel off its dull skin and give it a good slice. Thick or thin, it’s up to you, but the thinner you slice, the less time the beets will need to absorb the flavors of your brine. Because I’d added a pinch of cumin and cayenne pepper to the bean patty mixture, I thought that a smokey-tasting cheese would be a great complement here. Going on this hunch, I melted a swatch of smoked gouda on top of the newly browned patty on the pan.

It’s funny how you can think you’re craving only a certain food, then be even more delighted by an entirely new sensation altogether. I think I’m going to be craving these black bean and Swiss chard burgers many times after this meal… then make instead who knows what?

Black Bean and Swiss Chard Burger with Pickled Beets & Smoked Gouda
(makes 4 burgers)

8 oz. dried black beans, soaked overnight in at least 3 inches of water to cover
1 bunch Swiss chard, finely shredded
1 large leek, white and light green parts only, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 large egg, beaten
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (optional)
1/4 tsp ground cumin (optional)
1 tablespoon grated parmesan or grana padana cheese (optional)
2-3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 sandwich rolls
4 slices smoked gouda (or substitute with any cheese you like)

for the quick-pickled beets:
1 large beet, peeled and sliced thinly
1/4 cup white or red wine vinegar
1/2 cup water
pinch each of salt and sugar

Drain the soaked beans and fill with cold water to cover by 2 inches. Bring just to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover and cook until beans are tender, about 1 hour. Check to add more water if beans are no longer submerged. Drain cooked beans thoroughly and let air-dry at least 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine the vinegar, water, salt and sugar in a small bowl and stir to dissolve. Submerge the beet slices in the mixture, cover, and chill for at least 30 minutes.

Heat a tablespoon of the olive oil on a saute pan and cook the leeks over medium heat, stirring occasionally and seasoning with a pinch of salt and pepper, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and the shredded Swiss chard, along with another pinch of salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until all moisture from the chard has evaporated, about 5-6 minutes.

Slightly mash the cooked beans with a fork in a large mixing bowl. (You can mash it more thoroughly for a more even, creamy consistency or just slightly for a chunkier, bean-ier consistency.) Stir in the beaten egg, salt, pepper, optional spices and grated cheese. Stir in the cooked and cooled Swiss chard and leek mixture. Combine with hands until thoroughly distributed. Form into four patties.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Heat a heavy-bottomed, oven-safe pan over medium and coat the bottom thoroughly with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Place down the patties. Don’t move for 1-2 minutes, then push them around a bit to make sure they aren’t sticking to the bottom of the pan. (Add some more oil if necessary.) After another couple minutes, carefully flip the patties. Let brown on the opposite sides another 1-2 minutes, and add the slices of cheese to the tops. Shake them around again to make sure they aren’t sticking to the pan. Transfer to the oven to cook another 8-10 minutes, to cook them through and melt the cheese.

Serve the burgers in each roll with the pickled beets.

Cost Calculator
(for 4 burgers)

8 oz. dried black beans: $0.50
1 bunch Swiss chard: $3.00
1 leek: $1.00
1 egg: $0.40
4 rolls: $2.00
1 beet: $0.50
about 4 ounces smoked gouda: $2.00
salt, pepper, cayenne, cumin, sugar: $0.25
1 Tb optional grated parmesan: $0.50
1/4 cup vinegar: $0.25
3 tablespoons olive oil: $0.40

Total: $10.80

Health Factor

Three brownie points: Oh, guiltless pleasures. This burger makes a great case for going meatless with its heart-healthy plant protein and fiber from the beans, and its richness of vitamins from the greens and pickled beets. You could do better than a refined flour bun for the starches, though, which is sure to fill you up fast and make your energy crash rather than more nutritious whole grains. And the cheese does add cholesterol and calories here, though it’s much better than being melted on more of that (meat).

Green Factor

Six maple leaves: In anticipation of spring, I sprung for some out-of-season leafy greens from the conventional supermarket. I just couldn’t find much of an appetite for the slightly wilted, sad-looking kale that was still at the local farmers market. Fortunately, the beans are in season all year round, and grown in Upstate New York too, when found from Cayuga Organics’ farmers market stand. The rolls were also made by a local bakery at the Greenmarket that day, and the beets perfectly in season and organic, too.