Simplest Asparagus with Fresh Peas

From the archives, just in time for my favorite vegetable to hit the market. Enjoy!

The markets are back open, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and I can almost forgive the swarms of tourists and the row of port-o-potties that totally block the view along the tidal basin, because spring has sprung! Thrills.

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After a long winter of stews and soups, rice dishes and noodle bowls, I crave the fresh simplicity of spring produce. When a Sunday at the market sends me home with asparagus, fresh shelling peas, rhubarb, and (cross your fingers!) ramps, I try to prepare meals in a no-frills manner, letting the vegetables speak for themselves. Why kill fresh peas with a gloppy sauce? Why bury asparagus in soup or risotto? Leave those more involved, less spare recipes for another time. These first spring vegetables should be celebrated, I tell you.

At first glance, this recipe looks mighty simple; its success lies in the precise cooking of the vegetables until just tender and golden, and in the careful balance of the peas' sweetness and the asparagus' bitter earthiness with salt, pepper, and citrus. It's also paramount that you serve this dish immediately after cooking. If you plan to let it sit a while before eating it, know that you'll have something just fine, but not particularly remarkable. This should hop off the stove and go right into your mouth.

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If you've got access to really good asparagus, shelling peas, and fresh basil or tarragon, I can't think of a better way to use them. What are your favorite spring dishes?

Simplest Asparagus with Fresh Peasserves 4

1 pound asparagus 1 cup fresh shelling peas, from about 40 pods 3 tablespoons unsalted butter good flaky salt freshly cracked pepper 1/4 cup torn basil leaves zest 1 lemon, preferably unsprayed 1-2 tablespoon lemon juice

Wash and dry asparagus spears. Trim 1-1.5 inches off the ends, and cut on the bias into three or four pieces each.

In a large, shallow frying pan, heat butter on medium until it foams and then subsides. Add asparagus, and shake pan to get pieces into a single layer. Add a sprinkling of salt. Continue cooking, shaking pan frequently, until asparagus are cooked through but still very firm, about 2 minutes. Turn heat to low. Add peas. Shake pan to distribute, and cook 1 minute longer, just until peas are very plump (they may start to pop and/or jump out of the pan; if that happens, you're done -- turn off the heat).

Remove pan from heat; add lemon zest, basil, and a few grinds of pepper. Shake pan again to distribute evenly. Transfer to serving bowls or platter and sprinkle with another pinch or two of salt, to taste. Squeeze abut 1-2 tablespoons of lemon juice over the vegetables -- just enough to offset the salt, you don't want the lemon to overpower the vegetables -- and serve immediately.

Strozzapreti with Broccoli Rabe

I've already revealed my affinity for curly pasta shapes. With strozzapreti, I've found the apex of my obsession. Strozzapreti literally means "priest choker." Not the type I generally keep in my company, but for these wiry hand-made noodles, I'll make an exception. They're thin at the ends, thick in the middle, and tightly curled. Even when fully cooked, they keep a deliciously chewy texture.

I like strozzapreti with tomatoes. (I like everything with tomatoes.) My usual approach to these slurpy little noodles is a take on this dish, an old-school NYT recipe. But sometimes, especially when tomatoes aren't in season, I opt for something more winter-friendly.

This pasta really couldn't get simpler. Chili flakes and sliced garlic join olive oil in a hot pan, followed by a big handful of broccoli rabe. The rabe cooks down, the pasta boils away, and when both are done, they marry in a big, deep bowl, with equal parts parmesan and pecorino romano. Maybe a little lemon zest to lighten things up. That's it.

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The important thing about this dish is getting the salt level right. Too little, and it all tastes bitter. Too much, and it'll feel like you're trying to kill the nip of the rabe with salt. Start slow, and remember that the cheese adds salt, too. Also, if you can't find strozzapreti, cavatappi, gemelli, or penne will work just as well.

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Strozzapreti with Broccoli Rabe

1 pound strozzapreti or penne 2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more to taste 2 garlic cloves, sliced 2 pinches chili flakes 3/4 pound broccoli rabe, washed, dried, and roughly chopped salt - start with 1 pinch 1 teaspoon lemon zest 1/4 cup parmesan cheese, grated 1/4 cup pecorino romano cheese, grated

Boil pasta in plenty of salted water according to package directions.

Meanwhile, heat olive oil in large saute pan over medium heat. When oil shimmers, add garlic and chili. Cook for 2 minutes, until fragrant.

Add rabe all at once, along with a pinch of salt; it may be difficult to get it all in the pan at first, but it will shrink significantly as it cooks down. Cook rabe about 4 minutes, stirring intermittently, until wilted and fully cooked. Taste; you want it to still be plenty bitter, with just enough salt to take the edge off (remember, you're adding salty cheese at the end as well).

By then, pasta should be done. Drain pasta and add to pan with broccoli rabe. (If it doesn't all fit in the pan, combine both in heat-safe mixing bowl.) Add lemon zest and cheese, along with a drizzle of olive oil. Mix, plate, and serve.

Dutch Babies and New Years Day Brunch Ideas

updated from the archives: with New Years Day quickly approaching, I'm starting to think about breakfast in a serious way. Here's a smattering of good ideas to make on my favorite lazy morning of the year.

December 31 is nearly upon us! I'm expecting thousands of drunken belligerent psychos to descend on my neighborhood next week, and if you think I'm excited, I'm actually going elsewhere. Nothing I hate more than Adams Morgan on New Years Eve. But New Years morning is another story entirely. The streets are quiet, the air is cold and still, the oven is on and the coffee is brewing. I love waking up on New Years Day to total silence, enjoying yummy but easy breakfast and hot tea in my bathrobe, and being altogether lazy.

Even if you're like me and breakfast/brunch is your thing, I'm sure you feel me that cooking on New Years morning isn't exactly an appealing thought. Especially if you're hosting tomorrow morning, surely you want something easy to make, but with big wow-factor. A Dutch Baby is just the thing. It's a big, floppy, eggy pancake that puffs up beautifully in the oven; pull it out, top with some stewed fruit and a dusting of powdered sugar, and ta-da! Perfect breakfast entree. It takes 20 minutes to bake and about 15 seconds to mix up. Can't complain about that prep time, now can you?

Just in case a hot, fluffy, fruit-topped pancake isn't your thing (but really, who are we kidding?) I've included links to some other good New Years brunch recipes below. Have yourselves a safe and rockin' evening, and a very Happy New Year!

New Years Day Brunch Ideas:

Rich and creamy apricot-stuffed french toast Lazy, boozy french toast casserole Easy vintage breakfast biscuits Ever-popular and dead easy shakshuka Any kind of frittata, any kind at all Blackberry and pear clafoutis -- perfect for winter

There are plenty more where those came from -- just run a quick search through my breakfast-and-brunch category and see what pops up.

Dutch Babies basic recipe adapted from Lara at Cook and Eat serves 2-4 (if it's a main course for 4, double the recipe and make in two separate pans)

4 eggs generous pinch of salt 1/2 cup flour 1/2 cup milk 2 T unsalted butter

Preheat the oven to 425F.

Whisk the eggs with the pinch of salt until they just begin to get fluffy. Gradually whisk in the milk and flour and continue whisking until there are no lumps.

Melt the butter in a 8-inch cast iron pan. Then, pour the egg mixture over the butter. Move the pan immediately to the hot oven. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until it puffs up over the edges of the pan and is a rich golden brown on the edges.

Top with any kind of stewed fruit, or even good-quality preserves, and finish with a dusting of powdered sugar. I used poached quince that I had leftover -- delicious.

Curried Kohlrabi and Apple Slaw

Every year, sometime in late November, we turn on our heat, move the sweaters to the top drawer, dig up our tights and fleece-lined slippers, ...and stop eating salads.

It's silly, really. Once the cold sets in, and my cravings for fresh, red tomatoes are a faint mystery, all I can think about is stew and soup, tea and cider. Might a salad go perfectly with my black bean chili? Why yes, yes it would. Do I make one? No, no I don't. The chill kills my appetite for fresh leaves, replaces it with a deep-belly hunger for soy-marinated kale and spicy, savory pasta dishes like this one. But I'm right on cue. Around December, I suddenly remember winter vegetable slaw, and everything changes.

That's the beauty of slaws: they're a year-round staple. Bring'em to a barbeque in the summer, make one with the best of what produce you've got in winter. Use cabbage of any kind, but also broccoli, fennel, cucumbers, carrots, pretty much whatever you've got. Go Asian, Mexican, Singaporean, or fusion. The possibilities are limited only by your imagination.

Case in point: when two kohlrabis were included in this week's CSA along with a grab-bag of apples, the wheels started turning. I thought of the brand new jar of Madras curry powder, the unsulphered apple cider vinegar, and a wonderful slaw I'd devoured at an otherwise terrible restaurant (which I'd vowed to recreate, in part so I'd never have to dine there again. A fellow blogger describes the place as "what it'd look like if Epcot Center threw up Cuba." She's spot-on.) But I digress. The curry, the apple cider vinegar, the kohlrabi, the apples: they'd go really well together, it dawned on me.

And so they did. The curry powder turned the slaw an electric orange-yellow, which was pretty awesome. I've never gone Indian with slaw before, but after this successful experiment, I'll be doing it again for sure.

Curried Kohlrabi and Apple Slaw serves 4

1/4 cup peanut or canola oil 1 teaspoon high-quality curry powder 2 kohlrabis, peeled 1 crunchy, crispy apple (I used Cortlandt; Granny Smith, or any other crispy, not-too-sweet apple, would also be great), unpeeled 1/8 cup apple cider vinegar 2 teaspoons grainy mustard 3/4 teaspoon salt, to taste freshly cracked pepper

Heat oil in a small saucepan over medium heat. When oil shimmers, add curry powder. Heat for about 30-45 seconds, until curry starts to sizzle and faintly starts to darken in color. If it hasn't darkened after 45 seconds, don't wait: remove pan from heat, transfer flavored oil to a jar with a lid, and let cool to room temperature, about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, using the julienne slicer, slice peeled kohlrabi and apples (unpeeled, for color contrast) on 1/4-inch setting. Once kohlrabi and apple have been julienned, toss pieces to separate from each other (they have a tendency to stick together) and transfer to medium salad bowl.

Add mustard to oil, and shake vigorously to combine. Then add apple cider vinegar, half of salt, and pepper, and continue shaking until dressing is emulsified. Dip your finger into the dressing to taste, and add more salt if desired.

Dress slaw with half the dressing to start; depending on the size of your kohlrabi and apple, you may not need it all. Taste, and add more dressing as desired. Serve.

Coleslaw will keep for several days; the kohlrabi softens, but the texture of the softened slaw is appealing in a totally different way.