Juneuary

Sometimes the old, simple recipes are just what the doctor ordered. For me, that often begins with a trip to the farmers' market. This time of year in the pacific northwest is known, with some rue, as Juneuary - for those who don't know, spring and summer ar rather relaxed about when they decide to arrive. It's the time of year when from day to day it could feel like winter, spring, or summer, and so it's the right time of year for food that incorporates flavours and textures from all of these seasons. And it's at this time of year that we start to get tender young asparagus and the first morel mushrooms of the season. Asparagus, in some ways, is the very symbol of spring: the first energetic shoots of a plant that fly from the ground just when the weather is warm enough and the days long enough to spur the first imaginings of summer picnics. At the market this week the asparagus were particularly fine and fresh and so I bought a small handful. A old reliable spring dish is blanched asparagus with Hollandaise sauce - tangy, bright, aspirational. Though to me, Hollandaise is also very much a winter food; it's a part of big breakfasts on cold, rainy Sundays and its cousin, Sauce Béarnaise, is peerless as companion to a fine steak, preferably cooked over a fire and eaten while watching at fresh snowfall. So you see, I already had the makings of a lovely Juneuary dish. And then I passed the wild mushroom stand. And saw (and smelled) this year's first morels.

Morels taste of the loam and forest - at once reminiscent of both musky, humid summer and also earthy, hearty winter food. The first morels are exciting - as asparagus ushers in spring, so do morels usher in summer. The fact that these milestones appear simultaneous here in western Washington, well, I suppose that's Mother Nature's sense of humor. But it does allow for some delicious combinations. In short, this evening for dinner I had fresh asparagus with morel Hollandaise sauce. Simple, easy, but it almost defines luxurious eating. Warm, beguiling, at once crunchy and velvety, tangy like the spring weather, rich like a winter feast, and bright like the summer sun. You may have heard of truffled Hollandaise before - this similar, but not as wintery. The only thing you have to do is cook the morels in the butter you melt for the sauce and then whisk them along with the sauce as you slowly thicken it. I used the Joy of Cooking recipe for "Whole Egg Hollandaise" as the base.

Happy Juneuary, everyone!

Odds and Ends

Sometimes after work I arrive home to an unfriendly and mostly empty refrigerator that does not readily offer up any particularly obvious tasty morsels for dinner. On such days the fridge does not so much lurk in a corner - like the one conjured by Douglas Adams to terrorize the kitchen of his 'Holistic Detective', Dirk Gently - but it does exert a somewhat chilling influence on the atmosphere of the kitchen and on my spirits at the end of a tiring day. And a barren fridge certainly does not dull an emptiness of stomach, either.

Before getting too carried away with the bleak imagery, let me clarify. On the particular evening in question, my refrigerator contained the following: one bunch of rather old asparagus, four ageing rutabaga, three partially-finished bottles of wine of varying ages, some jam, half a carton of Trader Joe's vegetable broth, some gouda cheese, and a bottle or two of beer. (Let's ignore for the present that some consider beer a suitable substitute for dinner, especially in the case of Guinness, shall we?) So technically my fridge was not empty, but neither did any of the above seem to make much of a warm or comforting, let alone tasty, meal.
One of the media that seems to lend itself well to combining odd combinations of ingredients is risotto, with the added benefit of its making a generally savory and satisfying meal. I had some arborio rice in the cupboard so I set about to make Odds and Ends Risotto, which I imagine I will make again, at some point, with completely different results dependent on my refrigerator's capricious whim. Risotto is also wonderful in its essential simplicity - one cup of rice, a splash of olive oil, and four cups of liquid are all that are necessary for the base, taking about half an hour and almost no work. Where the adventure begins is when choosing what to use for liquid and also what else you want to throw in the pan.

A typical liquid mixture is three cups chicken stock and one cup white wine. Recipes abound for what vegetables are best and how best to pre-cook them, when to mix them in, what cheeses are best, &c. so I suggest you poke around a bit to see what other people have tried, too. Or you can try something like this:

For liquid, I used the remainder of the vegetable broth, the remainder of my white wine, and the remainder of my red wine, since that added up to just about four cups. For the vegetables, I rescued and chopped the few salvageable asparagus spears (about one and a half cups chopped) and also cut up two of the rutabaga into half-inch cubes (about 2 cups chopped.) Oh, and some of the gouda to make it all stick together a bit more at the end. An odd mixture, to be sure, but I hoped that the asparagus would give the dish an earthy yet fresh and green taste, the rutabaga a subtle sweetness and a little crispness, the red wine a bit of warmth, and the aged gouda a slightly tart and lemony tang.

The easy way to make risotto involves little more than heating rice and olive oil in a heavy saucepan until the rice becomes a little translucent and golden, and then throwing in the liquid and simmering until all the liquid is gone, stirring occasionally. The more labour-intensive method is to slowly add the liquid a bit at a time and simmer and stir constantly until the bit you added has been absorbed before adding more. This latter method certainly allows for more precision in determining the final texture of the dish, but does not allow for either cooking vegetables in with the rice (as I did with the rutabaga and asparagus) or for doing anything else while you wait hand and foot on the risotto pan. So I cooked everything together, tossing in the rutabaga shortly after pouring in the liquid at the beginning (they do well with a nice long simmer), and waiting until I thought it had about five minutes to go before adding the asparagus so it wouldn't overcook.

The result was tasty, and also a funny purple color which I don't normally associate with risotto - especially dotted with orange and green as it was by the vegetables. And it tasted much as expected, which only added to the satisfaction of the meal. Thankfully the vegetables remained crisp, not overcooked, which was a good contrast of texture, too. Next time, who knows what hidden gems the lurking fridge may contain.


ODDS AND ENDS RISOTTO
This is an intentionally general recipe, for use as a springboard into the waters of delicious unknown risottos.

1 C Arborio Rice
3 T Olive Oil (if you need more to coat the rice completely, add more)
4 C Liquid (Generally around 3 C Stock of some kind and 1 C wine)
½ C Grated Hard Cheese, though I imagine blue or goat cheese could also be mighty tasty. (Optional, but highly recommended.)
3 C (approximate) Other Stuff (This could be vegetables such as I used or pre-cooked sausage or other meats, or a combination.)
Herbs, Spices, Salt, Pepper to taste.
1-2 T Butter (if you want it to be really rich!)

Combine olive oil and rice in heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring to make sure all rice is coated in oil, until rice is translucent and starting to turn a golden-brown (2-5 minutes.) Add liquid and bring to boil. As soon as it boils, turn down to a simmer (still bubbling, but small, gentle ones.) Simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally to make sure the botom doesn't stick, until all liquid is absorbed (about 20 minutes.) Add cheese (and butter if you're using it) and stir until melted in.

If using vegetables:
Root Vegetables: Chop into half-inch to one-inch cubes and toss in as soon as the liquid boils.
Squash/Zucchini/Mushrooms: Cut into slightly larger pieces and toss in about half-way (after simmering the rice for 8 minutes or so.)
More Delicate Vegetables: Chop as you like and add closer to the end. Add the vegetables later than you think you should because they will continue to cook after you take the pan off the heat.

If using meat:
Cook the meat beforehand, at least partially, to make sure it is fully cooked when the risotto is done. Sausage, bacon, pork or poultry are good, shellfish, too, though I've never tried it myself. Not sure what I think about beef or fish - if you try it, leave a comment with directions. Mix the meat in near the end if you want it to retain its own flavour and a different texture (like crispy bacon or sausage), or earlier if it has a strong flavour you want to impart to the overall dish.

Serves 4-6.

Not pretty, but...

What I made for dinner tonight seems like a really good place to start this conversation because, well, I just finished making it and am currently eating it.

My dinner this evening actually began life a number of weeks ago, around the time I was finishing Barbara Kingsolver's new book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle - a delicious read in many ways, not least because of the recipes. At the time, one of the most iminently seasonally-doable recipes was the weighty-sounding Asparagus and Morel Bread Pudding, which was instantly appealing because the name contained the words 'Asparagus,' 'Morel,' 'Bread,' and 'Pudding.'

Off I went to the West Seattle Farmers' Market, with intent to procure the necessary ingredients (I had convinced some friends to come feast on the results later that day.) Given the season and given the weather I thought I was golden. Alas, I was informed I was two weeks too early for asparagus - too cold a spring, courtesy of increasingly fickle Pacific Northwest weather. The farmer even went so far as to call his wife at the Ballard market to ask if she had seen any over there, but no luck. And yet, I was undeterred. Early-spring greens were abundant, even such things as flowering kale - looking fresh and springy with its small yellow flowers and tasting, the farmer said, like a cross between broccoli and asparagus, only a bit sweeter, at which point he tore off part of a stem and handed it to me to eat. He was right - good evidence, I suppose, that farmers are the true 'foodies,' knowing the taste, use, care and value of everything grown, from germination or infancy to harvest.
I decided to experiement (which, so you will find, is something of an inevitability when I cook) and to substitute half flowering kale and half fiddlehead ferns for the asparagus in the recipe, chopped to about the same dimensions as recommended. Fiddleheads are a teaser for asparagus season, resembling a very mild asparagus in taste even if they do look rather alien - like coiled tentacles... Morels were, thankfully, easy to come by, if astonishingly expensive. These were fresh, tender, and some as big as my fist, and they smelled like a rain-doused forest fire. An almost-purple pumpernickel loaf completed the shopping and off I went to assemble.

I think I used too much bread. Of course, this also meant that I had to approximately triple the cheese (though I might have done so anyway - more on cheese some other time.) But it also meant that I had a lot of volume and my baking dishes weren't big enough. My pudding came out about 2 ½ inches high and took an extra 30 minutes to cook, so I think a shallower pudding would cook through more quickly and also have more delightful crispy bits.
Regardless, despite my substitutions and experimentation, the verdict? Delicious. Soft, springy, earthy - serious comfort food. Also, I ended up with enough for an army, so it is a good thing that it both freezes and reheats well and is a versatile platform for elaboration. Which brings me to my dinner tonight.

I arrived home famished, for whatever reason, and racking my brain for what to make that was a| quick, b| delicious, and c| warm, as it was about 50F, dark, and raining in Seattle, despite it being 21 May. My freezer yielded the answer - I still have about 6 servings (good-sized 3" x 5" x 1" blocks) of the bread pudding put away against just such a rainy day, even after feeding 3 people, sending them home with an extra serving or two each, and eating the leftovers for lunch for a week! But inevitably, when reheating something that is, by nature, a little soft and soggy, that soft and soggy something becomes even more so. Feeling slightly decadent, I defrosted the bread pudding in the microwave and then fried it in butter - only about half a tablespoon, though. Frying the slices of bread pudding dried them out a bit and made the outside crispy again, though perhaps that's an obvous benefit to frying anything. The intoxicating smell of browning butter and bread made me crave some caramelized onions, too, so I chopped up a small yellow one and tossed it in the pan with the bread pudding, and then left the onions in the pan with a pinch of salt to brown and soak up the rest of the butter and jusces after taking the bread pudding out.

Cooking, especially in anticipation of what I know will be a really tasty meal, always makes me happier and also a bit silly and creative, so by the time I was finishing up the onions I had a real zinger of an idea. On the suggestion of a friend, one of the things I had tried when the bread pudding was fresh was eating it with maple syrup. Definitely a good idea, but also definitely very sweet. Today, that sweetness sounded appealing again, but I wanted to spice it up a bit. After taking the onions out of the pan, and with the pan still hot but off the heat, I poured in a few tablespoons of maple syrup. The syrup bubbled and boiled a bit, getting a little darker, at which point I added about a tablespoon of Cholula hot sauce. This addition caused more frothing as I heated the pan a little and mixed it all together, and once it was mixed to a slightly cloudy dark brown I poured it over the onions and crispy bread pudding. I shaved a bit of aged gouda (bought at the Seattle Cheese Festival) over it all and I just finished eating it - warm and rich, soft, but with crispy bits, earthy yet tangy, and sweet, but with a spicy edge to keep on warming after the plate is cleaned.

It may not be pretty, but not bad for one pan and a bunch of leftovers.

ASPARAGUS AND MOREL BREAD PUDDING
(see the recipe at http://www.animalvegetablemiracle.com/BREAD%20PUDDING.pdf)

My notes:
1. Use more cheese. How much more depends on you.
2. Make in a baking dish that allows for a thickness somewhere around 1 ½ inches.
3. I love rosemary, especially the smell, so I dropped a few sprigs on top of the just-finished pudding to add to the already intoxicating aroma.


SPICY MAPLE GLAZE
This recipe is done entirely to taste - use your favorite hot sauce and add more of it if you like it spicier. This mixture is a good starting point.

6 T real maple syrup
1 T Cholula hot sauce

To a heavy, nonstick (which I prefer not to use except for extremely sticky things) pan that is already at medium temperature, add the maple syryp. It should immediately start to bubble - if not, raise the heat a little but be careful not to boil the syrup too much. (I started with the hot pan off the heat so I could better judge how vigorously the syrup would boil without extra heat - you can always place the pan back on a hot burner for a moment to get things rolling.) Once the syrup darkens in color and begins to really froth, make sure to stir well and add the hot sauce - the boiling will subside. Once well-mixed, bring to a frothy boil again and then immediately pour over the favored food, be it waffles, pork chops, or ice cream.