Eats Shoots and Leaves

A panda walks into a bar. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots in the air. "Why? Why are you behaving in this strange, un-panda-like fashion?" asks the confused waiter, as the panda walks towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.

"I'm a panda," he says, at the door. "Look it up."

The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds an explanation. "Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves."

An old joke, but one that has relevance to this spring season, and not because we'll find pandas behaving badly. It's due to the plethora of spring shoots like raab and rapini, yes, but also other sweet tendrils like those of fava beans and peas.

Go to the farmers' market and just behind the explosions of fresh flower arrangements you'll often see a rickety old card table mounded with green bundles of bok choy, pea shoots and other lesser-known but delicious spring greens like culantro, sawtooth herb and unusual mint varieties. You'll also find that the prices are often less than at larger stands and the quality is always superb.

On my last trip to the market I brought back a huge bunch of pea shoots, with their fine, twisty tendrils and blossoms just beginning to color, so a spring pesto was called for. Plus there was enough left over to chop and sauté the remaining half bunch and toss it with some mushrooms and spectacular purple asparagus.

Pasta with Pea Shoot Pesto, Asparagus and Mushrooms

For the pesto:
1 lb. pasta (I like fettucine or linguine for this recipe)
1 large bunch pea shoots
Olive oil
1 large clove garlic, minced
2 Tbsp. pine nuts
1/4 c. parmesan, grated
Salt to taste

For the pasta:
3 anchovy filets (optional)
1/2 lb. asparagus spears, sliced in 1" lengths
1/4 lb. mushrooms
1/4 tsp. dried hot red peppers, like cayenne, seeded and ground

Put a large pot of water on to boil. While it heats, make the pesto.

Slice the bunch of pea shoots into 2” lengths, reserving a few tendrils for garnishing the final dish. Take the pieces from the bottom half (the thicker stems) and place them in a blender with the garlic and pine nuts. Drizzle in some olive oil, turn on the blender and continue drizzling just until it makes a smooth purée. Pour into small mixing bowl and stir in cheese and salt to taste.

When the water boils, add the pasta to the pot and cook till al dente. While the pasta cooks, heat 2 Tbsp. olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the anchovies, if using, and mash them with the back of a spoon until they dissolve (1 min. or so). Add the cayenne, mushrooms and asparagus and sauté until the vegetables are tender but still crunchy. Add the remaining chopped pea shoots and sauté till wilted.

Drain the pasta, add the pesto and toss until thoroughly combined. Top with pea shoot mixture and garnish with reserved tendrils. Additional grated parmesan can be served alongside.

Get the excellent and grammatically witty tome containing the panda joke, Eats Shoots & Leaves, The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation by British writer Lynne Truss.

Pesto From Carrot Tops Is…Well…Tops!

This time of year my craving for greens is practically insatiable. I'm coming home from the market with bunches of raab (or rapini or rabe) from multiple different vegetables—turnips, kale, mustard greens—and foraging through the aisles for nettles, fiddleheads…well, you get the picture. And since these days I only buy carrots with their tops still attached because I had one too many woody, flavorless carrots from the cheap-for-a-reason bulk bin, I've been giving their frilly green appendages the same lustful looks as their cousins the brassicas.

Using those tops is also a great way to keep perfectly good food out of the compost bin, so the other evening when I was casting about, as I usually do, for what-can-I-feed-my-family ideas by digging through the vegetable bin, I came across a few stalks of parsley along with the carrot tops, and decided to throw them into the blender with walnuts, a little salt and a couple of cloves of garlic. Stirring in a pile of shredded romano, the pesto got tossed with pasta and laid on top of a bed of arugula, then "garnished" with slices of a couple of seared pork loin chops I'd found in the freezer.

One-dish dinner, and it looked (and tasted) like a restaurant meal. I could get used to not wasting food!

Carrot Top Pesto

Carrot tops from one bunch of carrots, frilly greens stripped from stems
1/2 c. parsley leaves, stripped from stems
1/8 c. walnuts
2 cloves garlic
1/3-1/2 c. olive oil
1 c. romano cheese
Salt to taste

Place carrot top leaves, parsley leaves, walnuts and garlic in a blender. While blender is running, drizzle in olive oil until it becomes a smooth sauce. Pour into medium-sized mixing bowl and stir in cheese. Add salt to taste.

Toss with one pound cooked pasta. This pesto sauce is also delicious drizzled on roasted or grilled spring vegetables.

Quick, Light Pasta That's Perfect for Summer

Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food is particular about the products he carries, so when he adds a new item to his lineup, you can be sure it's been taste-tested at the Dixon household and is worthy of an appearance on his pantry shelf before he offers it to his customers. This recipe for whole wheat pasta sauced with a variation on the more familiar Genovese basil pesto sounds like the perfect solution to a light summer dinner.

Along with the dritta olives that make Pollinaria's great extra virgin olive oil, the farm in the mountains of Abruzzo, Italy, also grows an heirloom variety of semolina wheat called Senatore Cappelli that's used to make whole grain (grana duro in Italian) pasta. I've never been a fan of whole wheat pastas; most I've tried have been grainy and didn't have the unique flavor of good semolina pasta.

But last year I tried Pollinaria's and was surprised. It had the texture and taste of traditional Italian dried pasta. The Pollinaria pasta, made from their organic semolina wheat, is extruded through brass dies that give it the rough surface to hold sauce, and the pasta is slowly dried to allow the flavor to develop. While they make several types, production is limited and I was only able to get fettuccine this year. If you like it as much as I do, next year I'll try get penne and chitarra.

I cooked a batch of the fettuccine and ate it with pesto alla Trapanese, the almond and tomato sauce served across Sicily.

Pasta with Pesto alla Trapanese

Briefly toast a handful (about a cup) of almonds in a skillet until just beginning to brown. Combine the almonds in a food processor with two or three coarsely chopped tomatoes, a couple of garlic cloves, a handful of basil (I also added some mint), a pinch of salt and a good drizzle of olive oil. Pulse until well-blended but not completely pureed. Add a couple of big spoonfuls to bowl of cooked pasta*, sprinkle with Parmigiano Reggiano and eat.

* You can also substitute your favorite whole wheat or regular pasta for the Pollinaria.

Variation on a Classic: Short Ribs alla Vodka

Sometimes it's all about satisfying a craving. It could be a jones for a particular flavor: the deep spiciness of smoky chiles in a rojo sauce. Or the creamy, cheesy, oozy texture of mac and cheese or the aroma of a bolognese sauce simmering for hours on the stove. There are a few restaurant dishes that I get all dreamy about, too, like the beef tartare at Old Salt Marketplace, the Phnom Penh soup on Fridays at Ha & VL or Eric Joppie's pork chop with celeriac mash paired with whatever Randy has on cask at Bar Avignon.

Three Doors Down penne alla vodka.

One dish that knocked me off my feet the very first time I had it and still calls to me when I see it on their menu is the penne alla vodka at Hawthorne's Three Doors Down. Ignoring the fact that whenever I go there I also have to order their house Negroni, this pasta dish of penne smothered in a rich, creamy, tomatoey sauce with lovely, mild sausages that have simmered in that sauce for hours assuages a comfort craving like few others. The owners generously shared the recipe for that signature dish several years ago, and I've made it several times since.

Grass-fed beef short ribs from Old Salt.

Recently I had a couple of pounds of short ribs—my latest braised meat obsession—and wondered how they would work in place of the sausages.

In short? Like a dream. Simmering the meat in the sauce took a little longer, but once the ribs were fall-apart tender, all I had to do was remove the bones and chop the meat into bite-sized pieces before adding the cream to the sauce for the final simmer.

In this case, messing with a classic had a rewarding, and very duplicable, outcome.

Short Ribs alla Vodka

1 lb. penne
2-3 lbs. short ribs
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 med. onion, chopped
1 Tbsp. red pepper flakes
2 28-oz. cans Italian tomatoes
1 c. vodka
1 c. heavy cream or sour cream
1 1/2 c. Parmigiano-reggiano cheese, grated

Salt and pepper the short ribs on all sides. In a heavy-bottomed Dutch oven or deep skillet, heat the olive oil until it shimmers. Add the short ribs and sear. Remove the short ribs to a separate plate. Over medium-low heat, add the onion and red pepper flakes to the remaining oil in the pan, scraping up any browned bits from the meat. Sauté until onion is translucent. Return the short ribs to the pan and add the vodka and tomatoes with their liquid and bring to a simmer for two hours.

Using a slotted spoon, remove the short ribs from the sauce. Remove the bones and any big chunks of fat. Chop or shred the meat into bite-sized chunks. Add the meat back to the sauce. Stir in the cream and bring to a simmer, continuing to cook for another 30 minutes.

During this last stage of simmering the sauce, bring a large pot of water to a boil. Drop the pasta in the boiling water and cook until al dente. Drain well and put the cooked pasta back into the pasta pot with the sauce and 2/3 cup of the parmesan. Combine, then put in serving bowl or serve in individual pasta bowls. Serve the remaining parmesan in a bowl at the table.

Need A Quick Dinner? Pasta Arrabiata Fills the Bill

Pasta seems to be the first thing I think of when we need a quick and hearty dinner, whether it's bacon carbonara or sausage and garlic or a quick toss with a sauté of whatever's lingering in the vegetable bin. After all, boiling a pot of water takes no time at all, and a sauce can be made in the time it takes the pasta to cook.

A few weeks ago I got a big bag of dried Aci Sivri peppers (left) from Ayers Creek Farm at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market. It's a cayenne-like, long red pepper that originated in Turkey that gives a moderate kick when ground fresh. I'd been wanting to make an arrabiata sauce with them and some of the tomatoes I'd roasted and stashed in the freezer last summer, so one night when we needed something fast—okay, okay, I'd been sucked into the vortex of the internet and looked up to see it was frighteningly close to dinnertime—I decided it was the perfect time to give it a whirl.

Pasta Arrabiata

As mentioned above, I used the fabulous tomatoes I'd roasted and frozen the summer before, but while this recipe would work with any canned tomatoes, since there are so few ingredients, the tomatoes play a key role in the flavor of the final dish and it'd be worth using the best quality you can get. The amount of pepper will vary depending on the type of pepper used. Start with a little and add it to the sauce gradually until it suits you.

1 lb. dried pasta
2 Tbsp. olive oil
3 c. roasted, puréed tomatoes
2 Tbsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. freshly ground dried hot red pepper (or to taste)
Freshly grated parmesan

Bring a large pot of water to boil. While the water heats, place the oil in a medium skillet over moderate heat until it shimmers. Add the garlic and sauté briefly to warm it (watch that it doesn't brown), then add the tomatoes and red pepper. Bring to a simmer.

When the pot of water boils, cook the pasta till al dente, then drain and place in a serving bowl. Add the sauce and toss. Sprinkle with parmesan and serve with more parmesan in a small bowl on the table.

In Season NW: Sleuthing Out Spring Shoots

Maybe it's because we've been watching the marvelous Agatha Christie mysteries with Geraldine McEwan as the sleuthing spinster Miss Jane Marple—its Wes Anderson-like, dotty style is endearingly cartoonish and fits Christie's drawing room tone perfectly—but when I head to the farmers' market these days I try to engage my inner detective to suss out the hidden gems to be found there.

One that consistently flies under the radar and is often lost in the stampede to the larger, better-known vegetable stands can be found just next to the explosions of fresh flower arrangements. Glance across the mountains of peonies, lilies and delphiniums and you'll often see a rickety old card table mounded with green bundles of bok choy, pea shoots and other lesser-known but delicious spring greens like culantro, sawtooth herb and unusual mint varieties. Plus the prices are often less than you'll find at larger stands and the quality is always superb.

On my last trip to the market I brought back a huge bunch of pea shoots, with their fine, twisty tendrils and blossoms just beginning to color, so a spring pesto was called for, and there was enough to sauté half and toss with some mushrooms I had in the vegetable bin.

Pasta with Pea Shoot Pesto and Mushrooms

1 lb. pasta

1 large bunch pea shoots

Olive oil

1 large clove garlic, minced

2 Tbsp. pine nuts

1/4 c. parmesan, grated

Salt to taste

3 anchovy filets (optional)

1/4 lb. mushrooms

1/4 tsp. dried hot red peppers, like cayenne, seeded and ground

Put large pot of water on to boil. While it heats, make the pesto.

Slice the bunch of pea shoots into 2” lengths, reserving a few tendrils for garnishing the final dish. Take the pieces from the bottom half (the thicker stems) and place them in a blender with the garlic and pine nuts. Drizzle in some olive oil, turn on the blender and continue drizzling just until it makes a smooth purée. Pour into small mixing bowl and stir in cheese and salt to taste.

When the water boils, add the pasta to the pot and cook till al dente. While the pasta cooks, heat 2 Tbsp. olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the anchovies, if using, and mash them with the back of a spoon until they dissolve (1 min. or so). Add the cayenne and mushrooms and sauté till the mushrooms are tender. Add the remaining chopped pea shoots and sauté till wilted.

Drain the pasta, add the pesto and toss until thoroughly combined. Top with pea shoot mixture and garnish with reserved tendrils. Additional grated parmesan can be served alongside.

In Season NW: Green Garlic

Like Hood strawberries, fiddleheads and spring onions, green garlic is only available for a short stint in late spring. You'll see these immature heads of garlic, usually with at least some of the stalk attached, in bunches or singly on farmers' market tables, and you should grab a few to take home to use in sautés or to toss with other spring things.

Trimming, step 1.

The other evening I felt like we needed a break from some recent meat-binging, so I clipped some parsley from the raised beds, pulled three or four of the first radishes from their loamy naps in the garden and stripped the feathery green tips from a bunch of carrots.

The immature cloves, right.

It took just a few minutes to trim up a head of the garlic and throw it and the greens (including the radish greens, of course) into the processor to make a quick pesto, then I sliced the radishes into matchsticks and tossed it all with pasta for a quick main course. Paired with a glass of rosé and a salad of garden lettuce dressed with balsamic and olive oil, it was a seasonal feast fit for a king.

Mizuna by Any Other Name Would Taste As…Peppery?

According to Wikipedia, "mizuna (Japanese: 水菜 'water greens')—also called shui cai, kyona, Japanese mustard, potherb mustard, Japanese greens, California peppergrass, and spider mustard—is a cultivated variety of Brassica rapa nipposinica. The name is also used for Brassica juncea var. japonica."

What this definition doesn't tell you is that this mildly piquant, some call it "peppery," green is a vibrant addition to salads, soups, sautés, pastas and sauces. The deeply cut and fringed, almost feathery, leaves are so beautiful and their green color is so vibrant that I have a hard time passing them up when I see them appear in the early spring at my local farmers' market.

I'd plucked a bunch from one farmer's heaping display one Saturday and a few evening later found myself in my usual state, realizing I had no idea what we were going to have for dinner that night. Remembering that bunch of mizuna waiting patiently in the vegetable bin, I breathed a sigh of relief. All I had to do was boil up a pot of pasta, chop some garlic, sundried tomatoes and walnuts, throw in a little Worcestershire and…voilà…dinner was on the table half an hour later. Success!

Pasta with Mizuna, Sundried Tomatoes and Walnuts

1 lb. pasta
2 Tbsp. olive oil
Several cloves garlic, very finely chopped, about 1/8 c.
1/2 c. walnuts, chopped
1/3 c. sundried tomatoes, chopped
1 bunch mizuna, roughly chopped
1 tsp. Worchestershire sauce
Salt and pepper, to taste
Parmesan, grated

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente. Drain.

While pasta is cooking, heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add olive oil and heat till it shimmers. Add garlic and sauté briefly until it warms, then add walnuts, sundried tomatoes and mizuna. Sauté until mizuna wilts and add Worchestershire sauce and salt to taste. Remove from heat if pasta isn't done. When pasta is drained, place in serving bowl and top with mizuna mixture, tossing to combine. Serve with parmesan for sprinkling.

Garden 2012: The Harvest Hits

We leave town for a week and suddenly it's tomato season!

Can't ask for better timing than that, especially since a couple of years ago we left for a few days about this time of year and got a panicky call from our son, who was housesitting for us and had just collected a bushel of ripe tomatoes from the garden. "No problem," we said, sensing this was a perfect teachable moment. "Get a big pot, chunk up the tomatoes and simmer them over low heat. You'll have sauce in no time."

I've run the recipe below before, which is based on a Mark Bittman dish from his Minimalist days, but it's one of our all-time favorite, go-to weeknight dinners. And there's no better time to make it than when cherry tomatoes are popping out of the garden and flooding into farmers' markets!

Pasta with Cherry Tomatoes, Garlic and Anchovies

1 lb. dried pasta
2 Tbsp. olive oil
6 anchovy fillets (in oil or salt-packed)
2 Tbsp. chopped garlic
1 pint (2-3 cups) cherry tomatoes (larger tomatoes, roughly chopped, also work well)
2 c. chopped kale, chard, spinach or other greens (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
Parmesan and/or pecorino cheese, grated

Bring large pot of salted water to boil.

While water is heating, heat olive oil in large skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. If using salt-packed anchovies, rinse and dry on a paper towel and proceed as with tinned anchovies. If using tinned anchovies, add without draining to skillet and sauté, breaking them up with a spatula until they dissolve (watch out for splattering). Add garlic and heat briefly, then add cherry tomatoes and reduce heat to simmer.

While tomatoes cook down, add pasta to boiling water and cook till al dente. While pasta cooks, add greens, if desired, to skillet and let them wilt. (To me, adding the greens makes a one-dish dinner, but it'd also be great with a green salad and bread.) Add salt and pepper to taste. When pasta is cooked, drain and put in serving bowl. Pour tomato mixture over top and toss gently. Sprinkle with cheese and serve more on the table.

Simply Seasonal Pasta

You all know how much I love pea shoots, and contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood has my full attention with this simple pasta dish.

I’d planned to make pasta with sugar snap peas and mint this weekend, but I didn’t get to the farmers market and there were no peas at the store. I did see a nice bundle of pea shoots, so I made this instead.

Pasta with Pea Shoots, Mint and Shiitakes

Chop a shallot, leek, and some garlic and cook them in extra virgin olive oil for a few minutes. Trim the stems from some shiitakes (they’re tough and don’t really get tender), then slice the caps into quarter inch strips. Add them to the pan. Slice a bundle of pea shoots into roughly 2 inch pieces; add to the mushrooms. Tear the leaves from 7 to 8 stalks of mint; add. Cook for about 5 minutes, toss with just-cooked pasta (and a bit of the pasta water) and serve with grated Parmigiano.

Beach Eats, Home Version

You can't beat copious amounts of seafood consumed while listening to the ocean and smelling the salty sea air. And that's exactly what we did last weekend in Manzanita.

After throwing together a dinner of linguini with clams on arrival, then the next day eating (nearly) our weight in clams and crab for lunch at Kelly's Brighton Marina in Rockaway, we stopped and picked up a steamed crab on the way back and made crab cakes for dinner that night.

Talk about eating local!

 Linguini con Vongole (Linguini with Clam Sauce)

1 lb. dried pasta
1 Tbsp. olive oil
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 tsp. dried red pepper flakes
2-3 lbs. steamer clams
1/2 c. dry white wine or rosé
Salt and pepper to taste
Parmesan

Bring large pot of water to boil. Add pasta and cook till al dente. Drain.

While pasta cooks, heat oil in large frying pan over medium heat. Add garlic and briefly sauté till warmed, making sure it doesn't brown. Then add red pepper flakes, stir briefly, and add steamer clams and rosé. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and cover for five to ten minutes until clams open. Add salt and pepper to taste. Pour over pasta in serving bowl, sprinkle with parmesan.

* * *

No-fuss Crab Cakes

Herbs and other ingredients like hot peppers or celery can be added to these, but keep the amounts as small as possible. The point, after all, is for them to be mostly crab with just enough filler to hold them together.

1 steamed Dungeness crab (approx. 1 lb.)
2 Tbsp. yellow onion or green onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 egg
1 c. dried bread crumbs*
1/2 tsp. lime or lemon zest
1/2 c. mayonnaise
Salt and pepper to taste
2 Tbsp. olive oil

Remove meat from crab and place in mixing bowl. Add onion, garlic, bread crumbs, egg, zest and enough mayonnaise to moisten the mixture. Add salt and pepper to taste and combine. Form into 2" cakes about 1/2" thick (they should barely hold together). Heat oil in skillet over medium-high heat and brown on both sides. Serve.

* Make your own bread crumbs by cubing two or three slices of bread and putting them in a 300° oven for half an hour or so, checking to make sure they don't burn. When they're completely dry, put them in a bowl and crush with a smaller bowl or drinking glass (I improvised, can you tell?) to make fine crumbs.

The L Word: Double Down

The two-fer is such an American idea, isn't it? Buy one, get one free. Whether it's toilet paper or, in this case, a recipe.

I was stuck for something to make for dinner the other night. I wanted something light and wasn't in the mood for meat, a tough task with two voracious carnivores drooling all over my kitchen counters. And no, I'm not referring to the dogs here…they're too short to drool on anything but my toes.

There were some leftovers (the L word) in the fridge: a bit of really good tomato sauce, a few marinated castelvetrano olives from a dinner party, a bunch of kale, a few Meyer lemons I hadn't got around to using yet. Hm. Then it hit me…kale…lemons…olives!

A quick check of the pantry revealed pasta and (yes!) a tin of anchovies. Victory!

At this point you have to picture me dancing around the kitchen, pumping my fists in the air, hearing the theme from Rocky bouncing off the kitchen cabinets. Now the more psychologically stable among you may be thinking that I need something more meaningful to do with my life when coming up with a plan for a weeknight dinner is considered a quest on a par with King Arthur's grail, Hannibal's elephant parade over the Alps or even Indiana Jones's women…um…I mean mythical antiquities. But there you have it…I come up with an idea for dinner and I'm Rocky Balboa. But back to the subject at hand.

What had suddenly turned me into a down-trodden, working-class boxer from Philly was the raw kale salad I'd perfected last fall, based on a raw Brussels sprout salad I'd had at Olympic Provisions. Would it taste as amazing if I used Meyer lemons and combined it with pasta? It sounded reasonable enough to me, so just over twenty minutes later we sat down to what I have to say was one knockout of a dinner.

Meyer Lemon and Kale Pasta

1 lb. dried pasta
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 2-oz. tin anchovies in olive oil
3 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1 small bunch kale (I love lacinato, though any will do), sliced into chiffonade
10 castelvetrano olives, pitted and roughly chopped
Zest of 1 Meyer lemon
Juice of 2 Meyer lemons
Salt and pepper to taste
Parmesan, finely grated

Bring large pot of water to boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente.

Heat oil over medium heat. Add anchovies and stir until they dissolve (stand back…they can splatter). Add garlic and heat but do not brown it. Add kale and sauté till wilted. Quickly stir in olives and remove from heat.

When pasta is done, drain off water and place in large serving bowl. Add kale mixture, lemon zest and juice (chopped preserved lemons would also be terrific). Toss, adding salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle it lightly with parmesan. Serve with more parmesan in a bowl for sprinkling.

Lovin' That Lemon

What could be better than a delicious dinner that's ready in less time than it takes to boil water and cook pasta? This superbly fresh Meyer lemon pasta dish is almost too good to be true, and it could be a strong competitor to my go-to quick dinner recipe, pasta carbonara.

It's also infinitely mutable, with obvious additions like canned West Coast albacore or a tossing with a bunch of baby arugula. You could even throw in some well-chopped black olives, my preferred variety being oil-cured. And, of course, it's totally acceptable with regular lemons when the Meyers are out of season.

But really, it's best as its simple, straightforward self, perfect as an entrée with a salad but also appropriate as a side with, say, grilled fish. So good!

Meyer Lemon Pasta

Inspired by the original at Franny's via WordsToEatBy

1 lb. dried pasta
4 Tbsp. olive oil, split
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
1/2 c. bread crumbs
Zest of 1 Meyer lemon
Juice of 2 Meyer lemons
1 c. parmesan, grated, plus more for sprinkling
2 Tbsp. parsley, finely chopped

Bring large pot of water to boil. Add pasta and cook till al dente.

While pasta cooks, heat 1 Tbsp. oil in sauté pan over medium heat, add garlic, stir briefly to heat, then add bread crumbs and stir till toasted. Set aside to cool. In serving bowl, combine zest, juice and 3 Tbsp. olive oil (chopped preserved lemons would also be terrific). Whisk to emulsify slightly. Add cheese and stir. When pasta is done, drain and add to lemon mixture in bowl along with parsley and bread crumbs. Toss and serve with additional parmesan for sprinkling at the table.

Crustacean Celebration: And They're Off!

I can't believe how excited I was for crab season to start this year. After last year's marathon Crustacean Celebration, the countdown to the start of the season was excruciating. Because of dickering over prices that crabbers would receive and conflicting results of test for something called meat fill, it was possible that the season could be delayed for as long as two weeks.

But when I went to the northern Oregon coastal town of Seaside on Thursday and stopped in at the shrine to crabbiness that is the Bell Buoy (left), they had freshly caught crabs aplenty. My friend Michel and I whipped up a fresh crab salad with some romaine, slivered fennel and a lemon vinaigrette and dove in. Supplemented by a loaf of Dave's wonderful homebaked sourdough and a glass (or two) of rosé, its sweet, slightly salty meatiness was the perfect, simple start to a season of indulgence.

I came back home to the news that the crabs had organized themselves into a group called the Dungeness Crab Commission and, in a stroke of brilliance, got themselves certified by none other than the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) as a sustainably managed fishery. Meaning that it's one of only three crab fisheries in the world to put the MSC label (right) on its products, and the only one of the five Dungeness fisheries (CA, OR, WA, B.C., AK) along the West Coast to be certified. Those are some crazy smart crabs!*

I'd purchased two more whole crabs on the way out of Seaside, determined to whip up an appropriately crabby dinner for the troops at home. Pulling out a recipe from last year and, hewing to the original intent (i.e. keeping it crabby), I made a few modifications and was rewarded with the oohs and aahs of satisfied diners.

If you have favorite crab dishes that you put together for your troops (or even just yourself), please share them in the comments below. It's looking like we're in for another banner year!

Pasta with Crab and Radicchio
Adapted from Tyler Florence, the Food Network

2 Dungeness crabs, approx. 1 lb. each
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 c. finely chopped shallots
2 Tbsp. finely minced garlic
2 whole Mexican hot red chiles
1 c. rosé
1 lb. pasta
1 small head radicchio, thinly sliced into chiffonade
Juice of 1 lemon, straining out the pulp and seeds
Finely grated parmesan or, for a nice change, extra-sharp cheddar for sprinkling

Bring 6 quarts water to boil and add 2 tablespoons salt.

Pull carapace off of cooked crabs (the large red outer shell). Under running water, clean off all the gills until you're left with the hard shell of the body beneath. I normally rinse out the "tamale" or ochre-colored bits that some people consider a delicacy (you can have them cleaned by your fishmonger if this is all too real). Remove the meat from the cleaned crab and collect in medium-sized bowl.

In a large sauté pan, heat the oil until smoking. Add the shallots, garlic and chiles and sauté until golden brown, about 4 to 5 minutes. Add the wine, bring to a boil. Cook the pasta in pot of boiling water according to the package instructions, until just al dente, and drain.

Remove the whole chiles from the wine sauce. Add the drained pasta to the pan with the wine mixture and return pan to heat. Add crab and radicchio and toss briefly until radicchio is slightly wilted, about 1 minute. Pour the lemon juice over the top. Pour into a warm serving bowl, sprinkle with the cheese and serve.

* Seriously, the Dungeness Crab Commission is an industry-funded agency tasked with "enhancing" the Dungeness crab industry.

Check out this season's Crustacean Celebration series: The Big Boys Weigh In, Deadly? I Think Not, Let Them Eat Cakes, Parallel Universe and last season's series starting with Hot Artichoke and Crab Dip (and links to other posts in the series).

In Season NW: Spring Sensations

Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood has a booth at the Portland Farmers' Market on Saturdays in the South Park Blocks (look for the large "Olive Oil" sign…that's him), so he's always up on what's in season and looking good. Plus he's a terrific cook and one who's willing to share his latest finds.

Pasta with Nettles and Maitakes

Both maitake mushrooms (above) and stinging nettle should be at the farmers market this time of year. They provide an alternative to the usual spring ingredients like fresh peas or asparagus. Maitakes are also called Hen of the Woods (Grifola frondosa for the mycologists), and the clusters of frond-like fungi can be simply broken up for cooking.

Start the pasta water first. Cook the nettles separately in boiling, salted water for a minute or two [be sure to handle with gloves when they're fresh…they're not called stinging nettles for nothing! - KAB], then squeeze out the water, chop coarsely, and set aside. Strain out debris and save the cooking water (also called nettle tea) and use it for soup.

Chop a couple of garlic cloves and sauté them briefly in olive oil with a pinch of sea salt. Add the mushrooms and cook for about 10 minutes on medium heat. Pour in a splash of white wine and let it cook down. Add the chopped nettles. Taste, add a little salt if necessary, and remove from the heat until the pasta is ready.

In the meantime you’ve cooked a pound of pasta (a short shape like orechiette or rigatoni works best) in salted water. Drain, reserving a bit of cooking water, and add the pasta and couple of spoonfuls of pasta water to the mushroom mix.

Add a cup or so of bread crumbs to a little olive oil in a skillet and cook for a few minutes, until they darken a bit. Stir into the pasta. Serve with good extra virgin olive oil and Parmigiano Reggiano.

Betrayal, Heresy, Treason?

Though we're a pretty low-key bunch around our house, there are still lots of rules. Thou shalt not use soap to wash the cast iron pans. Thou shalt not pull "weeds" without consulting the gardener (me). Thou shalt not, under any circumstances, call anything a martini unless it's made with gin.

And that goes for food, too. As in thou shalt not try to substitute tea for coffee in the morning because "someone" forgot to get beans at the store. Or allow any "industrial" beers to cross the threshold (especially PBR). And get ready for a full scale call-the-pope-on-the-red-phone moment if you mess with the holiest of holies, spaghetti carbonara.

Now, I have to say that there are certain liberties that are allowed, such as substituting penne for the spaghetti in carbonara. (Even though David Anderson, chef at Genoa, told me once that anything except bucatini was definitely not OK. Fine.) But if I suggest the addition of even some parsley as more than a garnish, rest assured I'm prepared to duck because there will be an unpleasant substance hitting a fan in the vicinity.

But a fan of one-dish dining I am, so when I came back from the farmers' market the other day with some tender collard greens, it seemed like another mooning-of-the-rules might be in order. And oddly enough, whether it was the episode of "The West Wing" (via Netflix) that was particularly engaging or simply hunger-related obliviousness, not a word was said. Maybe I should try to sneak in some chai one of these mornings…

Pasta Carbonara with Greens
Adapted from Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking

Water for pasta
1 lb. dried penne or other pasta
2 eggs
2 egg yolks
1 1/2 c. grated parmesan, or a mixture of parmesan and romano
1/2 to 3/4 lb. bacon, sliced into 1/4” strips
1 Tbsp. garlic, minced
Several leaves of kale, collards or other greens, sliced into 1/8" by 2" strips
1/4 c. dry white wine or dry vermouth
Salt and pepper to taste

Put the water on to boil. In a small bowl, beat the eggs and egg yolks together, then add 1/2 c. of the cheese and beat in.

In a skillet, fry the bacon till it is cooked but still tender. Add the garlic to the bacon and saute briefly, then add the greens. When they have wilted slightly, add the wine and allow to come to a simmer, then take off the heat. While the bacon is frying, add pasta to the boiling water. When the pasta is done, pour it into a colander to drain and then place it in a serving bowl. Pour the egg mixture over the top and stir to combine. Add the bacon mixture and stir briefly just to mix. Add salt and pepper to taste, then sprinkle some of the remaining cheese on top and put the rest in a small bowl on the table. Serve.

Heart Attack in a Bowl

There's nothing like putting your life on the line for dinner. And I'm not talking about a Wild Kingdom scenario where Marlin Perkins sends Jim off in his short shorts to get some alligator steaks to grill. No, I'm talking about something more insidious here, something that, like kindness, will kill you with its soft, silky touch.

It had been years since I'd made my killer alfredo sauce for pasta, since when Dave became lactose-intolerant it went on the list of verboten foods along with croissants and much of French cuisine. So with Dave due back in town after a visit with his mom, my son and I decided on one last lactose-packed hurrah with this buttery, fat-on-fat creamy dish of danger. To top it off, I bought a package of thinly sliced pancetta rounds that I fried to make bacon crisps to garnish the pasta, and then used the rendered fat to make a warm bacon dressing for a butter lettuce salad (just to say we did have one healthy thing—the lettuce, that is—for dinner).

You can obviously serve this as a side dish as is, but it's also great with steamed broccoli or a chiffonade of kale mixed into the sauce at the last minute, or with shredded chicken or chunks of fried pancetta. For some kick, run fresh garlic through a garlic press and add that to the sauce, or sprinkle in some red pepper flakes.

I'm not saying you should have your cholesterol checked before diving in, but if you do decide to make this for dinner, it might be a good idea to have 911 on speed dial and put the phone next to your bowl. Just in case.

Pasta with Alfredo Sauce

1 lb. dried pasta
2 c. heavy cream
1/4 c. butter
Salt and pepper to taste
Parmesan cheese for sprinkling

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil.

Pour cream into a medium-sized sauce pan and bring to a slow boil, stirring frequently to keep it from scorching. Reduce by half. Stir in butter. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cover and keep warm while pasta cooks. Add pasta to boiling water and cook till al dente. Drain pasta and put in serving bowl. Pour sauce over the top and mix in. Serve with parmesan on the side.

* * *

Warm Bacon Dressing

Rendered fat from 4 slices of bacon
3 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 tsp. brown or white sugar
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat fat in small pan. Whisk in remaining ingredients and drizzle over salad greens. Toss and serve.

Don't Call It Vegan

There's something about the term "vegan" that really rubs people the wrong way. It has a certain holier-than-thou tone to it, as if all other foods, the ones most of us eat, have been declared unclean.

Even worse, the foods deemed worthy of consumption have a reputation for being dull and flavorless. Think tofu, brown rice or rutabagas. Then there are the foods that try to mimic cheese or bacon or turkey and fall pathetically short. Which makes the vegetarian diets of yore look positively lush by comparison.

But you don't have to take a lemons-into-lemonade, turn-that-frown-upside-down attitude to switch your thinking around to what you can have instead of what you can't. Think of the intense flavors we love: heat, spice, sweet. All perfectly fit a vegan diet. Then there are the fats: olive oil, sesame oil and nuts spring to mind. And the great flavors of legumes, fresh greens, squash, garlic, mushrooms. Makes you think, right?

So when I saw the following recipe in John Ash's book From the Earth to the Table,it looked like a tasty new pasta recipe using pesto, cauliflower, pasta and beans. Not some wacky vegan food-like substance. Try it sometime when you're craving a flavor-packed, hearty dinner. You'll be surprised when you don't feel like you've done without.

Pasta with Roasted Cauliflower and Parsley Pesto
Adapted from John Ash's From the Earth to the Table

For the pesto:
4 c. packed fresh parsley leaves
4-5 cloves garlic, fresh or roasted
2 Tbsp. pine nuts, fresh or toasted
Zest of 1 lemon, grated
1/2 c. olive oil
Salt to taste

For the pasta:
1 med. cauliflower
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 lb. rigatoni, penne or other pasta
3/4 c. kalamata olives
1 c. cannellini, borlotti or other beans, cooked
Mint sprigs for garnish

Put parsley, garlic and pine nuts in bowl of food processor. While processing, drizzle in olive oil until smooth. Empty processor into medium-sized bowl and add rest of ingredients. Combine.

Preheat oven to 350°. Break cauliflower into 1" pieces and place in large mixing bowl. Drizzle with olive oil and stir to coat. Empty into 9" by 12" roasting pan and place in oven for 30-40 minutes until nicely browned.

While cauliflower is roasting, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. When cauliflower is almost done, put pasta on to cook until just al dente. Drain and put in large serving bowl, adding pesto, roasted cauliflower, olives and beans. Mix. Serve garnished with chopped mint leaves.

* You can also add 1/4 c. parmesan to the pesto, and served grated parmesan at the table for sprinkling.

Crustacean Celebration: 'Tis the Season to be Crabby

Remember how November here at GSNW was all about mushrooms? Well, that was so last month. Here in the Northwest, December is all about crabbiness…and not because I get all Scroogey about the holidays with its cheery cherubs singing on street corners and jolly decorations and endless recycling of Perry and Bing and Nat.

I loves me the mis.
No, I'm talking about that king of crustaceousness, that most luscious of briny denizens, our very own Dungeness crab. Its Latin name, Cancer magister, means "king crab" and it truly rules this time of year. I'd been hankering to have some since the season opened in mid-November, and last night provided the perfect opportunity.

Ready for its debut.

My brother had raved about a pasta with crab recipe he'd found last year, so I decided that it would be the ideal kick-off to our very own month-long celebration of the crustacean. I hope to learn how to make perfect crab cakes and maybe a few other classics, so feel free add a comment about your favorite dish, or even a recipe if you have one.

Pasta with Crab and Radicchio
Adapted from Tyler Florence, the Food Network

1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
3 shallots, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 tsp. red chile flakes
1 c. dry white wine
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 lb. pasta
1 lb. fresh crab meat
1/2 head radicchio, thinly sliced into chiffonade
2 scallions, thinly sliced
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Parmesan for sprinkling
Parsley for garnish

Bring 6 quarts water to boil and add 2 tablespoons salt.

In a 12 to 14-inch deep sauté pan, heat the oil until smoking. Add the shallots, garlic, and chiles and sauté until golden brown, about 4 to 5 minutes. Add the wine, bring to a boil, then add the butter, and remove from heat. Cook the pasta in pot of boiling water according to the package instructions, until just al dente, and drain.

Add the drained pasta to the pan with the wine mixture and return pan to heat. Add crab, radicchio, and scallion and toss until radicchio is wilted, about 1 minute. Squeeze 1/2 lemon over the top. Pour into a warm serving bowl, sprinkle with a bit of parmesan and parsley and serve.

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Check out these other examples of the crabby-licious goodness that is the Crustacean Celebration at GoodStuffNW: hot artichoke and crab dip; killer crab cakes; crab crostini; and a company-worthy crab-filled cioppino.

Quick Dinner? Grab the Peanut Butter!

When I was young I loved to read my mother's "ladies'" (not women's, no sir!) magazines. The Ladies Home Journal and Good Housekeeping featured women scurrying around the house making everything perfect for their lovely children and wonderful husband, makeup impeccably applied and hair freshly coiffed for the moment when their man walked in the door from his hard day at the office.

A recurring feature over the years, no doubt endlessly entertaining to the wives at their bridge parties, was a wacky idea called "breakfast for dinner" where the family would dress in pajamas and have pancakes and sausages instead of steak and potatoes. ("Imagine the squeals of delight from the young ones!")

I've never been a big fan of American breakfasts in general, so the idea of making it for dinner doesn't really appeal, either. So when I need a quick dinner solution, I grab the peanut butter from the fridge and some frozen shrimp or chicken from the freezer and make an Asian-inspired pasta dish that can include whatever green and crunchy things (peas, green onions, etc.) are in your veggie drawer. Pajamas, while appropriate any time of day around here, are obviously optional.

Pasta with Peanut Sauce, Snap Peas and Shrimp
Sauce adapted from All Around the World Cookbook by Sheila Lukins

For the peanut sauce:
1/4 c. soy sauce
1/4 c. rice vinegar
1/2 c. light coconut milk
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. peeled fresh ginger
2 cloves garlic
6 Tbsp. peanut butter
3 Tbsp. peanut oil or vegetable oil
3 Tbsp. toasted sesame oil
1/2 tsp. chili oil or 1/2 tsp. red chile flakes
1/2-1 tsp. Thai fish sauce (nam pla)

For the pasta:
1 lb. pasta or 9 oz. buckwheat soba
1 Tbsp. vegetable oil
2 c. sliced snap peas (or other crunchy green things)
1/2 lb. frozen shrimp
Cilantro leaves for garnish

Bring large pot of water to boil. While it heats, put all sauce ingredients into bowl of food processor and process until it makes a smooth sauce. When pot of water boils, add pasta and cook till al dente. While pasta cooks, heat vegetable oil in skillet and sauté peas briefly, then add shrimp. When shrimp turn pink, remove from heat. Drain pasta and put in serving bowl. Add peas and shrimp and half of sauce (the remainder is terrific as a dipping sauce with salad rolls or raw veggies). Toss and garnish with cilantro leaves.