Pasta Primavera

Forget that crap they serve in bad Italian restaurants. (All year round, mind you. Does anyone else see the irony in that?) This is the real thing. It's spring (did you hear?), and this is a pasta dish that shows off the season's finest. It's a dead-simple preparation that doesn't skimp on flavor, and it takes mere minutes to throw together.

It's hardly a recipe, I confess. But that's mostly because it can be made any which way, with whatever spring vegetables are in your fridge now. If you see this and think, "I need this right now," I gotcha. Variations of this recipe have been my lunch 5 days out of the past two weeks. I started with asparagus, mushrooms, and peas. When I roasted some late-season brussels sprouts one night for dinner, I added the leftovers to my pasta for the next day's lunch. If you have other vegetables -- favas, carrots, whatever -- they'd be lovely here as well. And yes, I tossed in a forkful of the caramelized onions I keep in the fridge. What's pasta primavera without'em?

And one more tip for this lovely Friday: many spring vegetables, including peas, asparagus, mushrooms, scallions, and favas, have bits that you discard, be they tough stems, or pods. Instead of simply throwing them away, along with their wonderful flavor, here's a fresh idea for what to do with them: stick them in a big pot of boiling water, add a whole onion, and maybe a few stems from your basil or mint leaves, plus some salt. Bring to a simmer, and cook for about 20 minutes. Let cool overnight in the fridge, then strain through a strainer lined with either cheese cloth or 2 paper towels (yes, it really works). Pour the strained liquid into ice cube trays, and freeze. Now you've got the most flavorful, aromatic spring vegetable broth, stored in easy-to-use ice cubes. I have a gallon-size bag full of these cubes, and they're the perfect addition to pasta primavera.

Pasta Primavera serves 4, or 2 hungry people plus weekday lunch leftovers

1 pound any kind of pasta; I've used penne, macaroni, and shells, all great olive oil caramelized onions, if you've got'em 2 scallions, chopped finely 1 1/2 pounds any of the following: asparagus, peas, mushrooms, brussels sprouts, fava beans, or other spring vegetable 1/2 cup vegetable broth or water 2/3 cup grated parmigiano reggiano or pecorino cheese a couple pieces fresh mozzarella or spoonfuls fresh ricotta, optional salt and pepper a couple leaves fresh basil, mint, or both

If using fava beans, remove beans from pod, boil for about 5 minutes, and remove beans from waxy coating. Reserve; you'll add them to the finished dish.

Boil pasta.

Meanwhile, drizzle a couple tablespoons olive oil in a wide saute pan and heat on medium-high. Add caramelized onions and/or scallions and stir to soften, 2 minutes. Then add mushrooms -- you want them to really fry up and release their flavor. When mushrooms have sizzled, sizzled some more, and finally released their juice, sprinkle a pinch of salt. Leave heat around medium-high. (If you're in a rush, as I was one night, you can skip this step and add everything all together.)

If you're doing this in stages, add the slower-cooking vegetables, like brussels and asparagus, next. If you need a drizzle more olive oil, go for it. When the asparagus and sprouts have been coated in the oil and have started to develop some color on the underside, turn heat down to medium. Add about 1/4 cup broth or water to the pan; it will boil vigorously, then calm down. Add a pinch of salt.

When asparagus are starting to soften, add extra broth if pan is dry, and then add peas. You'll cook the vegetables for about 3 minutes after peas are added, just long enough to warm them through. At this point, pasta will be done -- drain and reserve.

Add the pasta to the pan with the vegetables, and use tongs to toss pasta and "sauce" together. Add cheese, toss to coat, and serve immediately.

White Pizza with Ramps

In the five-plus years that D and I have been together, I think she'd probably say she's learned that vegetables aren't half bad. Hell, she really does enjoy them sometimes. Does she love asparagus? No. Ditto brussels sprouts. But I make 'em, she eats' em, and we all come out alive.

It's not a one way street, either. D's got plenty to teach me about the wonder of simplicity. I may love my arugula salads dressed with nothing more than lemon and olive oil, but that girl knows her mac and cheese. She's got the Subway sandwich situation down to a science. And she's the reigning expert on homemade pizza.

I never used to want to make pizza, but these days, I seemingly can't get enough of it. I always used to marvel at what a wood oven and ten minutes could do to a lump of dough; since giving homemade pizza a whirl, I can marvel at the fact that my modest little oven produces a damn good pie.

I generally prefer red sauce pizzas, and that's certainly D's flavor of choice. But there are some pretty awesome-sounding pies out there, and when I read about their ingredients, I think I could eat them happily and not miss the red sauce at all.

Take the sardine pizza I had at Two Amys a couple weeks back. Okay, so it had tomato sauce. But you know what it didn't have? Cheese. At all. And I absolutely loved it, which tells me that unconventional pizzas can be really great.

The idea of ramp pizza is certainly not new; Otto in New York is known for their version, a classic margarita pizza with plenty of charred ramps and (sometimes) a poached egg on top. I made two pizzas last night: the first was my take on Otto's, with red sauce, fresh mozzarella, parmesan, and charred ramps. (that covered half of my red pie; the other half I prepared in my all-time favorite fashion, with tomato, basil, mozzarella, parmesan, and salt-cured anchovies....yea.) The other pie was a more pared-down version, a white pizza boasting three cheeses: stretchy mozzarella, tender ricotta, and nutty parmesan. The ramps themselves play a supporting role, giving the pizza a smokey flavor. And you know what? I'm slightly addicted to it. The best part? You don't even need a pizza stone. Which is a good thing, 'cause I don't have one.

White Pizza with Ramps 5 1/3 cups plus a couple tablespoons all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons salt 1 teaspoon yeast 2 tablespoons sugar, honey, or agave nectar (I used agave) 2 cups plus 2 tablespoons water, room temp 2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for drizzling

Combine flour, salt, yeast, honey, water, and 2 tablespoons olive oil in stand mixer or large bowl and mix, using wooden spoon or paddle attachment, for 1 minute or until blended. Let rest 5 minutes.

Switch to dough hook and mix on medium-low speed 2-3 minutes (or continue mixing by hand) until dough is soft, and somewhere between tacky and sticky.

Spread 1 tablespoon olive oil on kneading surface and turn dough out onto surface. Stretch dough out and fold over itself. Do the same from the opposite end, then from side to side, for a total of four stretch-and-folds. Divide dough into the number of pies you plan to make: I initially divided into 5, as Reinhart recommends, then later realized I wanted 3 big pies instead of 5 personal ones. Form each piece into a ball and either put each into an oil-sprayed plastic bag, or set them atop parchment-lined baking sheets and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Refrigerate overnight or upto 4 days, or freeze upto several months.

90 minutes before making the pizzas, remove dough balls from refrigerator. With oiled hands, stretch and fold each piece into a tight ball, then let rest on lightly oiled baking pan loosely covered with plastic wrap.

1 hour before baking, set a rack in the lowest rung of the oven and turn heat as high as it will go.

Meanwhile, prepare ramps: rinse in several changes of water, pat dry, and remove bulbs from leaves. Slice bulbs into thin disks, and slice leaves lengthwise into 2 or 3 slices. Heat a small pan with a couple inches of water over medium heat until water boils. Blanch bulb slices for 45 seconds, then leaves for 30 seconds, removing each immediately with slotted spoon and setting aside.

Coat your hands with flour. Choose one dough ball, sprinkle a bit of flour on top, then flip over onto baking sheet and use your thumbs to slowly coax the edges of the dough into a larger circle. Work from the edges, not from the middle; the middle will spread as the edges are drawn out. Keep turning and stretching, turning and stretching, about 13 times (according to my pizza hero Jim Lahey), until dough is quite thin. If dough resists or shrinks back, let it rest a few minutes, then return. Do your best to preserve the little gas bubbles in the dough as you stretch it; they'll make lovely charred lumps in your pizza.

At this point, you're ready to top your pizzas. Start with mozzarella slices. Then grate parmesan onto pies. Top with ramp bulbs and leaves, and dot fresh ricotta overtop. Finish each pizza with a swirl of olive oil and a light sprinkle of flaky salt.

Bake on the lowest rack of the oven for about 10 minutes, rotating pans halfway through. Pies are done when the crusts are very charred and the cheese is bubbling (oh yes, it will bubble). Remove pies, and try to wait a couple minutes before taking a bite, or the roof of your mouth will not be happy!

Gnocchi with Butternut Squash and Shiitake Mushrooms

As you probably already know, I've had a pretty big food week. For one thing, I managed to roast a whole fish in a big pile of salt. I also made 2 loaves of bread, and 4 pizzas -- pizzas that actually tasted as good as something I could buy, which has never happened before. If that's not enough, I decided to take advantage of my already gutsy week and try a Thomas Keller recipe. People, the sky is falling.

Thomas Keller is the renowned chef of The French Laundry, Bouchon Bakery, and a handful of other spots. He's certainly one of the most famous chef in America. He's known for his particularity, his precision, and his meticulousness. Every recipe of his -- even the simplest, most elemental -- consist of countless steps, involve several pans, and have you running around the kitchen in a mental state that's pretty much the opposite of the low-key way I like to cook. See why I was nervous?

If you read Carol Blymire, you probably think TK recipes are no biggie. After all, she made a whole book of them. And now she's working her way through the only cookbook I can think of that seems more intimidating than Keller's: Alinea at Home, Grant Achatz's documenting of the molecular-gastronomy-heavy dishes at his Chicago restaurant Alinea. Not all of us are as adept at guestimating weights in grams, using products like methocel F50, and generally rocking out. But we've gotta start somewhere, now don't we.

This here recipe, which I found on epicurious, seemed a pretty comfortable place to start. It's something I might have made up myself (in a much less sophisticated manner with many fewer steps, of course). I had planned to serve it for a dinner party, but I made a little trial batch to make sure I had the method and flow down pat. That's what you see here.

The gnocchi in this recipe are Parisian gnocchi, not Italian: instead of being made with potato, they're made from pate a choux, a versatile dough that's used for everything from gougeres to eclairs to dumplings and beyond. You'll be a bit awestruck the first time you make pate a choux. When the flour goes in, and it looks all messy and bumpy, you wonder if you've made a mistake; but then your eyes grow wide and you do a doubletake as the dough suddenly pulls away from the sides of the pan and becomes a smooth, perfect mass. It's very cool. After that, the gnocchi are pretty simple. The most time-consuming part is squeezing the little cushions through the piping bag. Worth it, though, I promise. I also used a very small tip (the largest I had) -- so if you use a normal size tip, you'll have an easier time.

One caveat: this dish is best eaten the moment it's made. If making this for a crowd as part of a dinner party, make the rest of the menu low-maintenance so that you can finish this dish immediately before serving.

Lucky I snapped these pictures before tucking in: this was so absolutely delicious, I polished it off in ten seconds flat. The squash and mushrooms, browned in butter, are sweet and earthy. The gnocchi are crunchy outside and pillowy within, a real treat. Crispy herbs and their fresh counterparts give depth and contrast. And the lemon, combined with that extra brown butter, finish everything off with a pow. YES. Really, I can't bear to carry on writing this post when there's gnocchi to be made.

Gnocchi with Butternut Squash and Shiitake Mushrooms from Thomas Keller's Bouchon serves 6 as a side or 4 as a main

Squash One 2 1/2- to 3-pound butternut squash (one with a long neck) Canola oil 1 tablespoon unsalted butter Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 12 small sage leaves

Mushrooms 12 ounces shiitake mushrooms, cleaned Canola oil 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt 1 tablespoon unsalted butter 3 tablespoons minced shallots 1 tablespoon minced thyme 3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper Extra virgin olive oil 4 tablespoons (2 ounces) unsalted butter 1/2 recipe Herb Gnocchi , thawed if frozen (see recipe below) Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 tablespoons minced chives 1 tablespoon chopped Italian parsley 1/2 lemon print a shopping list for this recipe

preparation

For the squash: It is easier to dice the neck of the butternut squash uniformly than the bulb, which is important for this recipe. We use the remaining bulb for soup. Cut off and discard the stem end of the squash, then cut off the neck. Use a paring knife or sharp vegetable peeler to slice away the peel deep enough to reach the bright orange flesh of the squash. Trim the neck to straighten the sides, then cut it lengthwise into 1/2-inch-thick slices. Cut the slices into 1/2-inch dice. (You need about 3 cups diced squash.) If you have less than 3 cups, peel the bulb of the squash, cut it in half, and scrape out the seeds. Trim and cut as much of the bulb as you need into 1/2-inch dice. Reserve the remaining squash for another use.

Line a baking sheet with paper towels.

Heat a thin film of canola oil over medium heat in a skillet large enough to hold the squash in a single layer (or cook the squash in two batches). When the oil is hot, add the butter and brown it lightly. Add the squash, salt and pepper to taste, and the sage leaves. Cook, stirring the pieces to brown them on all sides, for 4 to 6 minutes, or until tender throughout. Reduce the heat as necessary to cook the squash and brown it lightly, without burning; the best way to see if the squash is fully cooked is to eat a piece. Drain the squash on one end of the paper towel–lined baking sheet and set aside the sage leaves for the garnish. Wipe out the skillet with a paper towel and set aside.

For the mushrooms: Trim away the tough stems and cut the caps into 1/4-inch-thick slices. Heat a thin film of canola oil in the same skillet over high heat. When the oil begins to smoke, add the mushrooms and salt and sauté for about a minute. The mushrooms will absorb the oil and should not weep any liquid. Add the butter, shallots, thyme, and pepper, then toss and sauté until the mushrooms are thoroughly cooked, 3 to 4 minutes total. Drain the mushrooms on the paper towel–lined baking sheet. The gnocchi should be cooked in two skillets: Wipe out the mushroom skillet with paper towels and add a light coating of olive oil to it and to a second large skillet.

To complete: Heat the oil over medium-high heat until hot. Add 1 tablespoon of the butter to each skillet. When the butter has browned, divide the gnocchi between the two skillets and season to taste with salt and pepper. Once the gnocchi have begun to brown, shake and rotate the skillets, tossing the gnocchi so that they brown and crisp on all sides, about 2 1/2 minutes.

Add the squash, mushrooms, and chives and heat just through. Spoon the gnocchi and vegetables onto serving plates and return one skillet to high heat. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter and cook until it is a rich brown, then quickly add the parsley to crackle for a few seconds. Standing back—the butter will spatter—add a squeeze of lemon half. Spoon the brown butter and herbs over the gnocchi and around the plates. Garnish with the reserved sage leaves.

Parisian Gnocchi:

1 1/2 cups water 12 tablespoons (6 ounces) unsalted butter 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon kosher salt 2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard 1 tablespoon chopped chervil 1 tablespoon chopped chives 1 tablespoon chopped parsley 1 tablespoon chopped tarragon 1 cup loosely packed shredded Comté or Emmentaler cheese 5 to 6 large eggs

Set up a heavy-duty mixer with the paddle attachment. Have all the ingredients ready before you begin cooking. Combine the water, butter, and the 1 teaspoon salt in a medium saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium, add the flour all at once, and stir rapidly with a stiff heatproof or wooden spoon until the dough pulls away from the sides of the pan and the bottom of the pan is clean, with no dough sticking to it. The dough should be glossy and smooth but still moist. Enough moisture must evaporate from the dough to allow it to absorb more fat when the eggs are added: Continue to stir for about 5 minutes, adjusting the heat as necessary to prevent the dough from coloring. A thin coating will form on the bottom and sides of the pan. When enough moisture has evaporated, steam will rise from the dough and the aroma of cooked flour will be noticeable. Immediately transfer the dough to the mixer bowl. Add the mustard, herbs, and the 1 tablespoon salt. Mix for a few seconds to incorporate the ingredients and release some of the heat, then add the cheese. With the mixer on the lowest speed, add 3 eggs, one at a time, beating until each egg is completely incorporated before adding the next one. Increase the speed to medium and add another 2 eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each one. Turn off the machine. Lift some of the dough on a rubber spatula, then turn the spatula to let it run off: It should move down the spatula very slowly; if it doesn't move at all or is very dry and just falls off in a clump, beat in the additional egg. Place the dough in a large pastry bag fitted with a 5/8-inch plain tip and let it rest for about 30 minutes at room temperature. (If you have only a small pastry bag, fill it with half the dough two times.) Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a simmer. Line a baking sheet with paper towels. Line a second baking sheet with parchment paper. Because this recipe makes such a large quantity of gnocchi, your arm may get tired: An easy way to pipe the gnocchi is to place a large inverted pot, canister, or other container that is slightly higher than the pot on the right side of the pot (left side if you are left-handed) and set the filled pastry bag on it so that the tip extends over the side and the container serves as a resting place for the bag. Twist the end of the pastry bag to push the dough into the tip. (From time to time, as the bag empties, you will need to twist the end again.) As you squeeze the back of the bag with your right hand, hold a small knife in your left hand and cut off 1-inch lengths of dough, allowing the gnocchi to drop into the pot. Pipe about 24 gnocchi per batch. First, the gnocchi will sink in the pot. Keep the water temperature hot, but do not boil. Once the gnocchi float to the top, poach them for another 1 to 2 minutes, then remove them with a slotted spoon or skimmer and drain on the paper towel–lined baking sheet. Taste one to test the timing; it may still seem slightly undercooked in the center, but it will be cooked again. Repeat with the remaining dough. When all the gnocchi have drained, place them in a single layer on the parchment-lined baking sheet, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to a day. Or, for longer storage, place the baking sheet in the freezer. Once the gnocchi have frozen solid, remove them from the baking sheet and place in a freezer bag in the freezer. Before using frozen gnocchi, spread them in a single layer on a baking sheet and defrost in the refrigerator for several hours.

Ginger Fried Rice

It's a rare day that I get to make lunch for myself at home. When I do, I tend to steer clear of the fancy in favor of those simple things that simply don't work in my office toaster. Especially in winter, when I put a premium on warm, cozy meals and crusty, toasty bread, I feel especially lucky on those rare occasions that I can make a pot of something or other, pour it straight from the stove to my plate, and eat it piping hot.

Quite often, lunch at home amounts to a bowl of leftover soup, topped with some grated cheese and browned under the broiler, that I eat alternately with a big ole' spoon and thick slice of toasted bread for dunking. But it's not always soup that wins my vote when I'm home. Sometimes I prefer something I can really sink my teeth into, like a big bowl of long fusilli, my new favorite pasta. But other times, it's neither soup nor pasta that does it. It's something simpler, more elemental. It's rice.

I'm not one of those weird people who can actually cook rice properly on the stovetop. If you are, share your magic in the comments. For the rest of us mortals, the oven is just fine. Jasmine and basmati, your best bets for this dish, need twice their volume in water, and if they start out cold in a 400-degree oven, they'll take about an hour to cook and steam. Be sure to grab a spoonful when it's fresh; there are few better things than freshly cooked rice.

I'd been eyeing this recipe from via Mark Bittman for quite some time. It is the epitome of comfort food, the kind of thing you eat curled up on the couch beneath a heavy blanket. Also, true to Bittman's trademark, the recipe is relatively simple. The rice is leftover from the night before. The ginger and garlic are crisp and pleasantly bitter after just a short swim in oil. The leeks are softened, browned on the edges, and intensely flavorful. And if a deep bowl of steaming rice with leeks, garlic, and ginger isn't quite enough to have you climbing off the couch, there's a fried egg on top. Now go.

Ginger Fried Rice adapted from Mark Bittman serves 4

2 tablespoons minced garlic 2 tablespoons minced ginger Salt 2 cups thinly sliced leeks, white and light green parts only, rinsed and dried 4 cups day-old cooked rice, preferably jasmine or basmati, at room temperature 4 large eggs 2 teaspoons sesame oil 4 teaspoons soy sauce.

1. In a large skillet, heat 1/4 cup oil over medium heat. When oil shimmers, add garlic and ginger. Shake pan to evenly distribute, then cook, stirring occasionally, until crisp and brown. With a slotted spoon, transfer to paper towels and salt lightly.

2. Reduce heat to medium-low and add 2 tablespoons oil and leeks. Cook about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until very tender and just slightly browned. Season lightly with salt.

3. Raise heat to medium and add rice. Cook, stirring well, until heated through. Maybe leave it on a couple extra minutes without moving it around to crisp up some of those rice kernels. Season to taste with salt.

4. In a nonstick skillet, fry eggs in remaining oil, sunny-side-up, until edges are set but yolk is still runny.

5. Divide rice among four dishes. Top each with an egg and drizzle with 1/2 teaspoon sesame oil and 1 teaspoon soy sauce. Sprinkle crisped garlic and ginger over everything and serve.