Chard. Work. In progress.

Today I received a new cook book in the mail. I didn't even order it! As a new CSA shareholder, I have been gifted a seasonal recipe collection. Thank you, Farmer John. And thank you, generous employer! I hope that you meant to send me this book, because I don't think I'll give it back. Beyond having inventive recipes for all sorts of early season greens, I now possess a bound paper repository of veritable, vegetable facts.

My new cookbook taught me that one should only heat Goosefoot greens in stainless steel, as they will discolor in aluminum or iron. Also, you should really cut out the stems of larger leaves, slice them in 1/4" thick, and begin cooking before you add the greens, which, incidentally, you should slice to 1" wide on the diagonal. I am now more aware of spices that work well with Chard: marjoram, parsley, lovage, nutmeg, allspice, or paprika. I can only vouch for nutmeg and parsley, having a general dirth of lovage in my household. Ahem.

I must reiterate the connection between beets and chard. They are two varieties of Beta Vulgaris, and members of the Goosefoot family, who did not, to my knowledge, appear in any sitcoms in the nineteen eighties. Actually, Beets and Swiss Chard are so similar that we could not tell a beet that had been allowed to flower from chard in a brief walk around the AOLC garden today. Other Goosefoots: Spinach (no surprise there), Tetragonia, and Quinoa. Well, who doesn't have a very distant South American staple cousin?

Also, I made a little painting. It isn't quite done, so maybe I should have kept it to myself. But I'm having a good time, so why shouldn't you? Along with chard, this piece shows off the shoelaces from my old (and favorite) sneakers: the turquoise converse size 5 purchased at a Greek town thrift-store at the near beginning of my endless summer of post-college life. As you can see, they have been lovingly knotted, broken, and re-knotted. Another funny detail: I found it the wooden base at my former employer's warehouse sale, before I ever worked for them, or even thought I would. Walk circumspectly, as some say. What a long, strange trip it's been.

I will supposedly be receiving baby chard in my box tomorrow. Will we ever make it to the next vegetable, I wonder?

Rainbow Swiss Chard. Wow.

Rainbow Swiss chard is the free-loving, peace-making Alpine hitch-hiker of leafy greens. It's also loaded with acid. Oxalic Acid. And like a well-worn tie-dyed t-shirt, Rainbow Swiss Chard has traveled across cultures, mixing with everything and nothing along the way. The French cook chard with leeks and and cream in tarts, while more Mediterranean cooks add feta, raisins, and pine nuts. Not as tough as Kale (and certainly no match for the hard-scrabble Cabbage), anyone can see that Swiss Chard is related to the more mainstream beet. Yeah man, the beet. Remember the beet? The descriptor "Swiss" makes certain that we will never confuse this leaf with the more delicate and refined French Spinach.



I made an appetizer, and I took it to a gathering, but I spilled it on the way. And I was really late. And then I sprained my ankle in a freak hugging accident. It was a spontaneous, Rainbow Swiss Chard kind-of night, I guess. But the Chard did well. I have to confess that I felt like I was using it; I'm almost positive that you could substitute beet greens, but that would feel too utilitarian. And I'm sure beet greens wouldn't have approved of my behavior. I mean, why would you date a banker when you could date a hitch-hiker? Yeah, I know it would be nice to have a root to roast later, the total package, etc. Did you know that beet juice has even been used to de-ice streets in the Rust Belt? And would you really want to eat Rainbow Swiss Chard every day for the rest of your life? I happen to know someone who affirms that she could be happy if she ate beets with such constancy.

Ah, well. Live and let live. Here is the recipe. I credit epicurious.

Garlic Toasts with Swiss Chard, Raisins, and Pine Nuts

2 tablespoons raisins (I used dried currants)

5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 garlic clove, crushed to paste, plus 1 garlic clove, minced
20 1/2-inch-thick baguette rounds (from 1 baguette; why not keep some of the hippie vibe and use multi-grain?)

1 14- to 16-ounce bunch Swiss chard, thick stems trimmed
1/4 cup finely chopped onion (use a sweet onion, if you can)
2 tablespoons chopped seeded tomato
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons pine nuts
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Place raisins (or currants) in small bowl. Pour enough warm water over to cover; let stand 20 minutes. Drain.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Combine 3 tablespoons oil and crushed garlic in another small bowl. Arrange baguette rounds on baking sheet. Bake until bread is crisp but not brown, turning bread once, about 5 minutes per side. Cool. Brush bread with garlic oil.

Cook Swiss chard in large pot of boiling salted water until tender, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes. (I would shorten this; I think my chard was a little too tender, maybe even mushy.) Drain well. Pat with paper towels to remove excess water. Finely chop chard. Heat remaining 2 tablespoons oil in heavy medium skillet over medium heat. Add onion and minced garlic and sauté until onion is tender, about 3 minutes. Add tomato and parsley and stir 1 minute. Increase heat to high; add pine nuts, nutmeg, raisins, and chard and stir 2 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Top toasts with Swiss chard mixture. Serve warm or at room temperature, whatever man.

I was pretty pleased with this recipe, which can party in any season. Just add good beer, someone else's house, and an open mind.

Fall in love with asparagus

I love asparagus. Asparagus. That is why I am sharing this romantical vegetable photo with you.

I have fond childhood memories of asparagus. My grandparents grew it in their garden! Everyone should experience the transformation this vegetable undergoes from small stalk to a tall and feathery weed-like grass. Any agrarian metaphors you might use to add meaning to your spiritual and emotional life will not break down with asparagus. Love grows.

And women in love never have to care about eating too much pastry dough. And that is why we will make a tart with our asparagus.

Asparagus and Mushroom Tarts (from Bon Appetit):

1 17.3-ounce package frozen puff pastry (2 sheets), thawed
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
12 ounces fresh shiitake mushrooms, stemmed, caps cut into 1/4-inch-wide strips
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper, divided
1 pound slender asparagus spears, trimmed, cut on diagonal into 1-inch pieces
1 1/2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme
1 1/2 teaspoons finely grated lemon peel
1/2 cup crème fraîche (if you're running two hours late for brunch, and the only store near you carries a great variety of greek yogurts, just use greek yogurt.)
1/2 cup (packed) coarsely grated Gruyère cheese (about 2 ounces)
Fresh thyme sprigs (for garnish)

Preparation

Roll out each pastry sheet on work surface to 10-inch square. Cut each into 4 squares. Using small knife, score 1/2-inch border (do not cut through pastry) around inside edges of each square. Arrange squares on 2 rimmed baking sheets. DO AHEAD Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and chill.

Melt butter in heavy large skillet over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms; sprinkle with 1/4 teaspoon coarse salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Sauté until tender and lightly browned, about 4 minutes. Transfer mushrooms to large bowl; cool 15 minutes. Add asparagus, chopped thyme, lemon peel, 3/4 teaspoon coarse salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper to mushrooms. Mix in crème fraîche and cheese. DO AHEAD Filling can be made 1 day ahead. Cover; chill.

(I strongly urge you all to plan your lives around this tart--and make the filling and roll out the dough ahead of time. Maybe you want to go jogging instead. Well, sometimes we make sacrifices for love.)

Position 1 rack in top third and 1 rack in bottom third of oven and preheat to 400°F. Mound filling atop pastry squares, leaving 1/2-inch plain border.

Bake tarts 12 minutes. Reverse sheets. Continue to bake tarts until crusts are puffed and golden and filling is cooked through, about 10 minutes longer. Transfer to plates; garnish with thyme sprigs.

Enjoy!

Love,

Asparagus

Celebrating Spring with Soup

Spring Celebration Soup

Here's another quick-and-easy recipe to celebrate the best spring veggies have to offer! It's also another testimony to the brilliance of lime/lemon juice used in conjunction with all kinds of vegetables. It's a great first course (last night it served as the first course to our main entree of grilled elk brats and greenhouse-fresh salad) - it can be casual or fancy! This recipe is adapted from Simply in Season.

Serves 4

4 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup green onions, chopped
2 cups carrots, thinly sliced
2 cups asparagus, chopped
4 cups chicken broth
1/3 cup lemon juice
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup fresh spinach, torn
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1/2 cup swiss or parmesan cheese, shredded

Heat 2 tbsp olive oil in a soup pot. Add garlic and saute until golden, about 1 minute. Add green onions and carrots and saute 5 minutes. Add asparagus, broth, lemon juice & salt and cook until asparagus is just barely tender (do not overcook). Stir in spinach and parsley and cook an additional 1 minute. Ladle into 4 bowls, garnish with swiss cheese, and celebrate spring!

Asparagus : let it speak for itself.

A Pocketful of Asparagus

Once last Spring I was talking to Adriane (the same friend-and-fellow-vegetable-enthusiast who pointed me in the direction of February's Beet Tart). She was up in her garden and had just picked a "pocketful of asparagus." Doesn't that sound simply elegant?

Growing up asparagus was a "special" food (Mom has many of these... "Don't just eat that! It's special.") It was an impressive side she served to guests - but also one of the few foods she would allow us to eat with our fingers. I'm intrigued by this vegetable that can be so fancy, and yet so at home wrapped casually in a bandana and peeking out of a pocket.

That tension was what drove this painting (and that cute vintage hankie I recently found.) Some new tubes of watercolor drove my overeager use of greens... Live and learn...


Sadly, I don't have a photo of this one to share, but my favorite asparagus dish this month was the simplest. Steamed and drizzled with:

Aunt Sue's Dressing for Vegetables
2-3 T. butter
1 T. Dijon mustard (I can't help myself - I use twice that!)
1 1/2 t. lemon juice
1/4 t. salt
1 t. sugar
Melt the butter and combine all ingredients. Serve over cooked vegetables.

We prepared it with my sister, Meg, when she was visiting - it is for special guests, after all - and ate it alongside some broiled salmon and potato pancakes. (Potatoes are a must when Meg is involved.)

Occasionally, I find good things come out of my lack of timeliness. For instance, Asparagus is the April Vegetable of the Month, but if I had posted in April I wouldn't have been able to share with you these photos of Adriane's Asparagus:2010 - growing in her garden this May!