Breakfast for Dinner: Craving Spring Things

Let's face it: Spring is all about sex. Call it reproduction, fertility or, to use Anthony Boutard's favorite word, fecundity, nature is having a field day making more of itself. Hens start laying eggs again, little green things (weeds included) are popping out of the bare earth and farmers are finally able to get out in their fields to plant crops, muddy and clumpy though those fields may be.

Chorizo and spring vegetables…yum!

I've been longing for spring things lately, especially after a winter diet of root vegetables and winter greens, and my freezer is looking mighty empty since we've cleaned out most of the roasted tomatoes, lamb, pork and beef I crammed into it last fall. Luckily the farmers' market season is roaring back to life now, so it's easy to satisfy my craving for these first sweet sproutings.

Homemade sourdough cubes, natch!

With that in mind, a recent article by David Tanis in the Dining section of the New York Times about a Spanish dish of eggs and spring vegetables piqued my interest. Called revueltos or huevos revueltos, it basically means scrambled eggs and usually includes vegetables of one sort or another. Often found at tapas bars or served as a light supper dish—my fondness for these "breakfast for dinner" dishes is longstanding—the one that Tanis shared featured asparagus and bread cubes toasted in olive oil and garlic.

I happened to have picked up a couple of bunches of asparagus at the mid-week Shemanski market from Leslie at Viridian Farms, and had about half a bunch of green garlic left over from an earlier trip. Dinner was still an open question and I'd just replenished the egg supply, so I decided to follow the seeming synchronicity and give the dish a whirl.

Needless to say, and anyone who's made a frittata, quiche or even an omelet can attest, it was simple, quick and delicious. Perfect for a spring supper!

Revueltos (Scrambled Eggs) with Green Garlic and Asparagus

Adapted from David Tanis

Olive oil

2 peeled garlic cloves

2 c. dried bread cubes, cut in 1/2" cubes

3 oz. diced Spanish chorizo*

1 bunch asparagus, about 1 1/2 lbs., sliced in 1" lengths

1/2 bunch green garlic, sliced in 1" lengths

8 large eggs, beaten

1/2 tsp. Spanish pimentón (smoked paprika)

Salt to taste

Heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in a large non-stick skillet (or well-seasoned cast iron pan) over medium-high heat. Add peeled garlic cloves and let them sizzle until lightly browned, then remove. Add bread cubes, lower heat to medium and gently fry until lightly browned and crisp, about 2 minutes. Remove bread and set aside to cool.

Add chorizo and fry lightly. Add asparagus and green garlic and stir-fry until cooked through but firm, 3 to 4 minutes. 

Reduce heat to low. Add pimentón to eggs. Pour eggs into skillet with vegetables and cook, stirring with a wooden spoon, just until soft and creamy, 2 to 3 minutes. Top with bread cubes and serve in the skillet, or transfer eggs to large serving bowl, topping with bread cubes, and serve immediately.

This would also make a great breakfast or brunch dish.

* I used my friend Paul Bertolli's Fra'Mani Chorizo Pork Sausage.

Raw or Braised? The Kale Debate Rages On

I know of very few people who are more dedicated to the regular consumption of brassicas than contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food. In this essay he takes on raw kale lovers, staking out his ground on the side of long, slow cooking.

I have too many cookbooks, but that doesn’t stop me from buying more. David Tanis’ new one, One Good Dish, just arrived, and one of the first things I read as I thumbed the pages was his recipe for kale (top photo). Sorry to all the kale salad lovers, but I’m with Tanis; the leafy greens from these hardy Brassicas taste best after long cooking.

Then I saw “fried bread in the Iberian manner,” Spanish-style migas made from dry bread, another thing I make fairly often. And polentina, a Tuscan vegetable soup thickened with a spoonful of corn meal. The recipes in One Good Dish resonate because they’re just like the food I make every day. Maybe there’s some confirmation bias involved, but this is a book you could cook from for a long time.

Here are my versions of long-cooked kale and Iberian fried bread.

Braised Greens

I cook either cavolo nero (aka Tuscan kale) or collard greens every week, and I always braise them with onion, olive oil, salt, and water. They’re so good I don’t think I need to try anything else (unless it's this). The secret ingredient is time; the greens are best if cooked for at least 45 minutes.

Chop an onion and start cooking it in enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of your pan (anything with a decent lid will be fine). While the onion cooks, chiffonade a bunch of greens: roll half the bunch into a tight bundle and cut into quarter inch slices. It isn’t necessary to cut out the central stalk since you’re going to cook them until they’re tender.

Add the greens to the onion along with some salt and about a half cup of water. Cover and reduce heat to simmer. Check after 20 minutes, and add water if needed to keep the bottom of the pot covered (I’ve burned greens more than once; sometimes you can save them and just say they’re “caramelized). Let them simmer for at least 45 minutes, longer is okay (but check for water). Drizzle with a bit of fresh extra virgin at the table.

Migas

Like Tanis, I usually have some kind of old bread in the kitchen. After a few days of fresh bread and toast, I cut the rest of the loaf into rough cubes and leave it out to get dry (a much better outcome than finding a moldy slice in the bag). For migas, I’ll use it after a day or so, but even older, really hard bread can be revived by sprinkling with a couple of tablespoons of water (let it sit for 15 minutes before frying).

Use enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of a heavy skillet; heat it over a medium flame until it shimmers, then add the bread and fry gently until it’s nicely browned. Add some chopped onion and a little garlic if you like, and the rest depends on what’s at hand.

Migas are leftover food for me, so I’ll pull out whatever bits and pieces I have tucked in the refrigerator. Spanish-style chorizo, the dry cured salami version, is classic, and any kind of cured pork can fill in. Don’t have any? Use leftover chicken, diced bacon, or just leave it out. (For other ideas: migas with ham, eggplant migas.)

I always have cabbage, so I’ll chop a little and add it to the skillet. Peppers are good, too. Let everything cook together and get a little crispy, then splash in a a tablespoon or so of good vinegar (Katz, of course) and finish with a a few shakes of the smoky Spanish paprika called pimenton. Top with an fried egg or two if you like.

Miseaux en Place

If you love the freshest, most delicate Italian olive oils, handmade fleur de sel or hard-to-find ingredients like fennel pollen, oregano and salted capers from the island of Pantelleria, you know about contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food. What you may not know is that he's a devotée of the Cajun foodways of New Orleans and travels there whenever he can. The following is a bulletin from his latest trip to the Big Easy.

You see of lot of words ending with “eaux” in Louisiana. Most are names that extend back to the French colonists expelled from Nova Scotia who found their way to the Gulf Coast. But anything ending in a long “O” sound can be adapted, like geaux cup for the styrofoam pint of daquiri or hurricane or whatever you’re drinking. It can get stupid, but it’s also Cajun shorthand.

I’ve been experimenting with miso paste in decidedly nontraditional dishes, and have been calling my fermented soy paste addition Cajun miso, but I like "miseaux" (pron. mee-SOH) better. A lot of the things I’ve been making are part of the Southern foodway, but I was really inspired by our friend Pableaux, a real Cajun, who told me that Cajun food isn’t sentimental. What he was getting at was anything is fair when it comes to flavor. And miso adds flavor to almost everything.

I got the idea from an article David Tanis wrote about the book Japanese Farm Food that included a leek recipe with miso-mustard sauce. I mixed miso paste with stoneground mustard and Katz Gravenstein apple cider vinegar and started adding it to whatever I was cooking.

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Maque Choux with Miseaux

Finely chop roughly equal amounts onion, celery, and bell pepper (or half a jalapeno if you like heat), start cooking in extra virgin olive oil with a pinch of salt. Slice the kernels from a few ears of corn (fresh, or leftover cooked corn on the cob) and toss them in.

Mix a couple of tablespoons of light miso (or dark; either will work although the flavors will be different...dark miso is older and stronger) with a tablespoon of stone ground mustard and one of Katz Gravenstein apple cider vinegar (or any good cider vinegar). When the corn has started to brown a bit, stir it in, cook a little longer, and eat.


Fresh Shell Beans with Mint and Miseaux

This time of year you should be able to find fresh shell beans of some kind at the farmers market or even at the grocery store. Cook in salted water until tender, anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes depending on the bean. Scoop beans out and save the cooking water for vegetables or rice (it’s like stock).

Mix whatever miso you have with mustard and vinegar, 2 parts miso to 1 part each of the other stuff. Add a bunch of chopped fresh mint and a good drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. If you like things spicy, some kind of chile heat is nice. Serve at room temperature.

Top photo of different types of miso made by Jorinji Miso of Portland. Photo by Bruce Ely for the Oregonian.