Archives for category: Cookbooks

Nous réussirons encore.    -Francois Hollande

It’s a good day: François Hollande beat Nicolas Sarkozy to become the next president of France; the sun is shining in Brooklyn, bringing the borough to its stoop; I got to play tennis in the morning and yoga in the afternoon; I am almost (almost) not thinking about work and the book that goes on press in two weeks; AND the new issue of Remedy Quarterly arrived at my doorstep! (Well, that technically happened yesterday.)

Remedy is a food journal founded in Brooklyn three years ago by Kelly Carámbula, graphic designer by day, editor-in-chief by night. She blogs at Eat Make Read and is the parent of one lovable boston terrier, Maude. Each issue of Remedy has a different theme, and issue 9 is about Escape. I contributed a short ode to my father and Vermont (“Where I Found Food”). The issue also includes an interview with the owner of Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks in Greenwich Village (that would be Bonnie), and recipes for mousse au chocolate, pequin vinegar, Louisiana crab boil, and a slew more. You can’t read the pieces online but you have options.

You can order the issue online here, or if you live in New York, pick one up at the St. Mark’s Bookshop in the East Village; The Meat Hook, Depanneur, or Marlow & Sons in Williamsburg; Greenlight Bookstore in Fort Greene; or Stinky Bklyn in Carroll Gardens (“Oh that’s like grown-up Brooklyn“). If you’re in Japan like Juan Pablo, you can get it at Re:store Studio in Tokyo; Sarah you can get it at Room6 in Vancouver; Kris and Antoine you can get it at Librairie Drawn & Quarterly in Montreal; and if you’re in San Fran: Omnivore Books on Food, Pot + Pantry, and the Curiosity Shoppe.

As for the piece I wrote, all I will say is, my dad rescued me from a life of frozen pizza and Twix bars. For that, and more, I like him a whole lot.

What do you say when a friend hand delivers you hand-picked ramps?

You say THANK YOU! And perhaps, I’m sorry you had to carry these stinky alliums around all day.

My friend Paul brought me beautiful, pungent ramps that he foraged with a trowel from a hillside near his home in Phoenicia, New York, in the Catskill Moutains. I haven’t been to the farmer’s market much lately so I was very grateful to receive the muddy gift. We met at a friend’s art show Thursday night, and by the time I arrived, an hour late, the ramp’s aroma had permeated the entire gallery.

Ramps are only in season in these parts from roughly the end of April to the second week of May, if you’re lucky. They come and go in a flash before wearing out their welcome. I think they’re in season for the perfect amount of time—long enough for you to enjoy them in scrambled eggs and pesto and maybe biscuits, but not long enough to get sick of them (I’m lookin at you zucchini). They make a graceful exit just as you’re fantasizing about what you’ll make next. Ramp risotto?

Exactly one year ago I wrote here about linguine with ramps. This year I thought I’d try something different. My friend Katherine recently mentioned that, at Reynards in the new Wythe Hotel in Williamsburg, she’d eaten radishes on toast that had been slathered with ramp butter. Genius! Jill was coming for brunch today so I thought: ramp butter, toast, and runny eggs.

Turns out, kitchen maven April Bloomfield has a recipe for ramp butter (with quail eggs) in her delectable cookbook A Girl And Her Pig, which I used as a guiding light.

The lemon zest and lemon juice are just the addition to cut the richness of the butter. The ramps definitely make their presence known without being overly sharp, a result of sautéing them for two minutes. I plan on using the leftover ramp butter over pasta. It would be delicious slathered over biscuits or scones, or on dark rye bread with those radishes, anything with a bite.

It’s nice having a personal ramp dealer. I will not share his beeper number with you so don’t even ask. Get your own forager!

Ramp Butter

1/4 pound ramps, cleaned, roots trimmed
11 tbsp unsalted butter
zest from 1 lemon
1 1/2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
pinch of chili flakes
3 anchovies, rinsed and minced (optional)
1 tbsp olive oil
salt and peper

Thinly slice the bulbs and stems of the ramps, and set aside. Slice the greens and toss some of these with the bulbs and stems, reserving the rest. Melt 1 tbsp butter in a skillet and when hot add the ramp bulbs and stems and some of the greens and sauté for two minutes, stirring often.

Transfer to a bowl and add the remaining butter, lemon zest and juice, a pinch of chili flakes, anchovies, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. I ended up squeezing a bit more lemon juice into the mixture. Blend this and when mixed, add the remaining chopped ramp greens, stir again. You can serve this on toast or over pasta, and I imagine it would taste great tucked under the skin of a chicken before roasting.

Did you hear that winter’s over…Last year’s miracles will soon be forgotten. New creatures whirl in from non-existence, galaxies scattered around their feet. Have you met them? -Rumi

One day this week—I think it was Thursday—I stepped outside of my apartment and noticed that each and every tree on my block had blossomed overnight. I was in Manhattan later that same day and sure enough, the trees there too were exploding with color, especially the pink magnolia blossoms, and white Callery pear flowers. There’s something about spring that takes the edge off of New York. Everything softens: the light, the colors, the clothing, the people. Suddenly there’s pink on the concrete, bare feet in sandals, and rainbow sprinkles dripping down ice cream cones.

Once again I was in the mood for the kind of spring dish that strikes the right balance for March: in like a lion, out like a lamb. Nothing too heavy, but nothing too summery crisp either. Something with color, but also a little bit of warmth. Warm salads tend to do the trick. I was flipping through my cookbooks for inspiration and this here is a riff on another Ottolenghi dish. A combination of chickpeas, sautéed carrots, caraway seeds, chard, mint, and cilantro, served with greek yogurt, olive oil, and pickled shallots.

And because tonight’s the season 5 Mad Men premiere, I leave you with one of my favorite Joan quotes: “But that’s life. One minute you’re on top of the world, the next minute some secretary’s running you over with a lawnmower.”

Chickpea Sauté with greek yogurt and pickled shallots
Serves 4

1 shallot, cut in slivers
4 tbsp rice wine vinegar
2 tbsp water
1/8 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
1 bunch of Swiss chard (300 g), stems and leaves separated
1 tbsp olive oil, plus more for serving
4 carrots, peeled and diced
1 tsp caraway seeds
1 c (250 g) cooked chickpeas
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tbsp chopped fresh herbs: mint and cilantro work well, or chervil, chives, flat-leaf parsley
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
salt and black pepper

6 oz (100 g) greek yogurt
1 tbsp olive oil

You want to do a quick pickle of your shallot: place the shallot slivers in a small jar and cover with the vinegar and water, and add the salt and sugar. (I also threw in some fresh thyme I had lying around.) Let sit at least 30 minutes.

Bring a big pot of salted water to boil and add the chard stems, cook for 2 minutes, then add the leaves, cooking everything for an additional 3 minutes. Drain the water and rinse the chard (stems and leaves) in very cold water. Squeeze dry and do a rough chop.

Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy saucepan. Add the carrots and caraway seeds and sauté for 5 minutes, then add the chard and chickpeas and continue cooking for an additional 6 minutes. Then add the garlic, herbs, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Remove from heat, adjust the seasoning.

To serve, combine the greek yogurt and olive oil with a bit of salt and pepper. Pile the vegetables onto serving dishes and spoon the yogurt mixture on top, drizzling with additional olive oil and scattering some pickled shallots on top.

Here are some photos of spring, from my neck of the woods…including: Long Island beach; Occupy Wall Street @ Union Square; @ Jay St.-MetroTech subway station; a friend’s little one, born on my birthday; more beauty on my block.