I go away for one week and return to find that, not only have asparagus made their annual arrival in local markets, but everyone’s had more than their share of it already. “I’ve eaten asparagus for the past four days,” moaned a friend at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket Saturday. “I’m over it.” Well, I have some catching up to do, so rather than dawdle on an elaborate preparation of it, whipped up this quick, ridiculously easy go-to favorite of … Read More
What a delight to find zucchini so early in the season at the Greenmarket last weekend. There was just one small crate of them at Grand Army Plaza early in the morning, and I snagged two ripe ones with shiny, lizard-green skins that appeared to be stretched across their juicy flesh like balloons. With such prime, squeaky-fresh zucchini like this, I don’t even want to cook them. I just want to slip a knife through them, and toss the lime … Read More
The best way to experience ramps — which are only available for a short window in early spring — is fresh and green as can possibly be. This wild onion, so beloved by foodies, might be the Mary Pickford of the allium family: soft and delicate, with just the right amount of zest and a graceful appearance. Like scallions and chives, you don’t really want to cook with these, lest they lose their especially springy character. I decided to bolster … Read More
I’ll be the first to say that there is no risotto without rice. And a very starchy rice at that, such as Arborio, which thickens its cooking liquid like pudding. Whole grains such as spelt, wheat berries and oat groats just don’t do this, you see, and they take much longer to cook. But this time, for me, it was well worth the wait. Whatever you want to call it, this “risotto” with the nutty-tasting ancient grain spelt was even … Read More
I love the combination of earthiness, creaminess and pungency in a European herring salad, where the pickled fish is tossed with chopped potatoes, hard-boiled eggs and beets. This combination, sometimes including chopped apples, is enjoyed in Scandinavia, Russia and Northern Germany — essentially, wherever the ground is frozen much of the time. Well, the ground hasn’t been frozen for a while in New York, but we’ve still got rations of winter’s potatoes and beets before spring vegetables enter the scene. … Read More
I was craving the coolness of some type of salad, now that it’s reached 68 degrees this early March in New York. Visions of cucumbers and fresh stone fruit danced in my head, but despite the warmth, it was still no time for such produce. Bah humbug, but here’s a tip for the midst of winter: fresh parsnip has a slightly tropical, fruity taste, especially when tossed with fresh lemon juice.
“Unsightly” doesn’t do justice to the unattractiveness of this classic Punjabi dish. But I dare not go lower than that in descriptors, because it’s so delicious by contrast. To be sure, Sarson Ka Saag would be the traditional name for it, and the greens used in it commonly mustard greens and spinach. But I had a hulking bunch of kale recently, so I gave that a whirl instead.
I was seeking advice for a gumbo I was to bring to a fundraiser cook-off last weekend. I’d wanted it to have lots of densely packed greens, like a traditional gumbo z’herbes, but also seafood, okra and perhaps some bacon. “Why don’t you do something like Hoppin’ John?” my friend Karol, a Southern food expert, suggested. This was one of her famed dishes, and one time, she’d added some greens like spinach to it as a variation. It was really … Read More
Blocks of tofu stir-fried in a spicy, thick sauce studded with sweet peas is a winter comfort food for me. It clears the sinuses, tickles the tastebuds and it’s wickedly quick to produce. I never thought others would care much for it, knowing that tofu can be a tough sell. But after sharing this dish a few times over the years, many have dug in appreciatively and asked how it was done. It’s criminally easy so here goes.
It’s very easy to hide a great deal of things in a pot of black beans. Good things, bad things, all kinds of things — and no one may notice. Cooked to a velvety sauce, with strange lumps that once used to be part of a bean suspended throughout, the soup is thick as tar and opaque brown-black as fudge. You don’t know what’s hiding in it.