SNACK ATTACK - EXHIBIT B: RADISHES WITH PINE NUT PUREE & NORI-SALT

In January I posted the first recipe in a series entitled Snack Attack. Within this chapter of recipes, I hope to offer delicious and healthy snack options that are within easy reach when the cravings hit. Though it’s been several months, and I was wholly distracted by the Spring pea crop that just sprang, I haven’t forgotten about my promise to provide a multitude of munchy-zapping recipes. So here it is – Exhibit B. I could eat this every day (read: I have been for the past three).

This dish was born from a consideration of cravings. I pondered the combinations of ingredients that meld into a quick-fix nosh that both fuels the body and consistently satisfies the urge to nibble. Somehow, one must pack a variety of textures, nutritional properties (i.e., fat, protein, carbohydrate, and vitamin content; expansive-contractive effect), and flavors into one simple snack. It’s a tall order, but I’m working on it. The recipe below is a fabulous place to start (eating).


Radishes are classically eaten with softened cultured butter and sea salt – the ultimate after-school snack for the children of France (so I’ve heard; mine was Oreos and acidophilus milk or Ruffles in ranch). Though I truly adore butter, I wanted to work with something a little out of the ordinary. I thought about the richness the butter lends to the radishes, taming their spice, thus rendering them more enjoyable to eat. I wondered, is there a member of the plant kingdom that could serve a similar purpose?

Enter pine nuts. Soaked to soften and put through the wringer in the handy food processor, they morph into a bright, sumptuous, and creamy puree. Though I usually toast pine nuts before using, this particular dish calls for the mellow flavor and white appearance they possess when raw. Not only does this recipe require a mere five minutes of active cooking AND cleaning time, the pine nut puree is quite versatile as well. It is great as a dip (as described in the recipe below) for radishes, blanched green beans, or pungent herbs. It makes a fabulous spread for some hearty rye or pumpernickel bread – topped with thinly sliced radishes, nori-salt, and garlic chives, we may have the newest addition to the tea sandwich category in over a hundred years. The pine nut puree can be layered with pesto between thick slices of ripe Brandywine tomatoes –Viola!, a speedy snack reminiscent of lasagna. Thinned with a little water and perhaps a dash of olive oil, the puree morphs into a lovely dressing for a crunchy romaine salad. You can add garlic for kick or cayenne for heat – use your imagination and accommodate your palate. The puree can be made in large batches and refrigerated for up to five days; whenever a little fuel, crunch, and munch is needed, it is there for you.

RADISHES are Asian in origin and have been cultivated for thousands of years. They are members of the cabbage family, but despite their familial mustardy bite, they are cooling in nature. They help to stimulate the appetite, facilitate digestion (especially of fats), and are anti-microbial. They help resolve mucus (you practically feel your sinuses open with a single bite), and aid in liver detoxification (listen up: hang-over help!). Moreover, they contain vitamin C, potassium, numerous trace minerals, and fiber to boot.

I will refer to the previous tutorial on Cooking with Trash, as radish greens are another special ingredient that tends to get tossed. Wash them well, give them a rough chop, and use them anywhere you would other Brassica greens like cabbage and kale: added to soups; as the base of a spicy pesto; wilted in grain salads or pasta dishes; as a peppery hit to your favorite stir-fry; marinated in a unique raw greens salad; braised and placed over crunchy bruschetta for a show-stopping appetizer. (If you attempt any of these suggestions, please share the results in the Comments portion of this post.)

Radishes are available at farmers’ markets year-round, but are best in the cooler months of fall and spring, when their peppery bite tends to mellow. They come in a range of shapes and colors; each variety boasts a slightly different texture and level of spice. Black, red, purple, pale green, magenta with a white hat – I love them all. Regardless of which variety you find, the important thing is ensuring your purchase is fresh. Radishes should have vibrant greens, exhibiting no signs of wilting, yellowing, or rotting. The radishes should be crisp, never limp, shriveling, or spongy. Avoid radishes that have been cut or split. Wrap radishes (with their greens attached) in paper towels, and store in a sealed plastic bag or glass container; refrigerate for up to five days, though their sweetness will continue to wane after harvest.

The medicinal properties of SEAWEED (NORI is one variety of dried seaweed), algae, and microalgae are too many to mention here (entire books have been written on this subject). I will say, however, that including sea vegetables in one’s diet, even if only once a week, is a small change that will have a huge impact. Briefly, some of the balancing actions of seaweed include reducing cholesterol, removing metallic and radioactive elements (great to have before and after X-rays or other radiation treatment), detoxifying (seaweed chelates with toxins and discharges them with normal body waste), strengthening digestion, softening tumors or other hard masses, reducing edema, counteracting obesity and enhancing the immune system. Seaweed is higher in vitamins and minerals than any other class of food! It is a significant source of calcium, iodine, phosphorus, sodium and iron, and contains these elements in proportions similar to human blood. It is also extremely rich in protein and vitamins A, B, C and E. There are hundreds of sea vegetables available, but just make sure to purchase those that are wild-crafted from clean coastal areas.

PINE NUTS are warming in nature. They are lubricating, and as such are especially useful in alleviating dry conditions like coughs and constipation. In fact, they are so useful in moistening the intestines, unblocking bowels, and dispelling wind, they are a prime ingredient in some Chinese herbal prescriptions. However, their high fat content should be considered – eating them excess will lead to imbalances. They are quite high in protein (over 14%) and are significant sources of B vitamins, vitamin A, magnesium, and most notably, the trace mineral manganese (an important cofactor in many of the body’s enzymatic processes). Pine nuts, in moderation, could be especially helpful in maintaining normal blood glucose levels.

Purchase pine nuts from the bulk section of a health-food store with high turnover. They should appear ivory and plump. A rancid nut is not always easy to spot, but is quite easy to smell – sniff before you buy. Purchase in small quantities and store pine nuts in the refrigerator until ready to use.

So, you see, radishes topped with nori-salt and pine nut puree is a winning snack option. It is a case in which opposites complement each other perfectly. The rich pine nuts balance the cooling properties of the radish and provide the fat necessary to keep blood sugar steady. The radish and seaweed, in turn, facilitate digestion of the fatty nuts, which have so much to offer nutritionally. The pine nut puree, with its creaminess, acidity (thanks to the lemon), and subtle sweetness, is an excellent foil for the crisp texture and peppery flavor of radishes. And though this combination may yield a mere morsel for the belly, the round ruby taproots, fluffy white puree, and ebony specks of nori make it a feast for the eyes.

RADISHES WITH PINE NUT PUREE & NORI-SALT

MAKES APPROXIMATELY 1 ½ CUPS PUREE

INGREDIENTS

the freshest, most stunning radishes you can find

1 cup raw pine nuts, soaked for at least 2 hours in filtered water
1 ½ tablespoons fresh lemon juice, or more to taste
½ teaspoon sea salt
5-6 tablespoons filtered water

1 sheet organic, raw Nori (see sources)
2 teaspoons coarse sea salt, such as Maldon

DIRECTIONS

Scrub the radishes with a damp towel, especially where the greens sprout; give the greens a quick rinse. Pinch off the tiny root at the bottom, if you wish. If you would like to make the greens perk up a bit, you can fill a basin with ice water and soak the radishes for a minute or two; drain and dry on a clean towel before proceeding with the recipe. Arrange the radishes on a platter and set aside.

Drain the soaked pine nuts. Place the pine nuts, lemon juice, salt, and water in the bowl of a food processor. Process until the pine nuts are the consistency of sour cream (this can take a couple of minutes). Add more water if necessary, put do not thin the mixture too much or it will properly coat the radishes. Refrigerate pine nut puree for up to 5 days in a sealed container.

Place nori in a spice grinder (a.k.a., repurposed coffee grinder) and pulse until broken into tiny flakes. Add salt and pulse just until combined (I prefer that the salt retain some of its coarse texture).

Sprinkle radishes with nori-salt and serve with a bowl of pine nut puree for dipping. Save the greens for another use.

COOKING WITH TRASH

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Though the Blogger timestamp informs me my last post was a mere five days ago, it seems like a dog year has passed. Perhaps that’s because I’ve been a little bee lately – busy with work, but also busy with fun. The weather in San Francisco reached desert-high temperatures over the weekend, and I chose to take full advantage of the clear skies and hot sun before moody Mother Nature dumps sheets of cold rain and fog on us again. Ah, the way of women – you just never know. Do you?

During the past week, seldom have I donned my prized Libeco apron – partly because of a to-do list that looks like a Pollock painting, but primarily due to the intense, paralyzing heat (no AC, you see). When I have mustered the will to approach the stove, it has been in tiny Dri-Fit bottoms and a sweatband. (Think Richard Simmons with breasts and a spatula.) And though fava beans and spring raab were certainly worth the panting and perspiration, I’ve mostly craved raw salads, fruits, and ice-cold beer.

Since I’ve been fantasizing about all things cool and refreshing, it seems proper to post the ice cream recipe I’ve been teasing you with for some time now, dangling it over your eyes in the upper right-hand corner of the webpage, the caption leading you to believe it was “COMING SOON”. Since that same tantalizing photo of Pea Pod Ice Cream went up on Flickr, I’ve received a lot of interesting feedback; I’m not sure if the recipe is highly anticipated or the last thing anyone would ever want to eat – ever.

I’ll be honest. It was good, but not great. I shared the pint with a friend of mine that I consider to be a sort of frozen custard expert. The chick loves ice cream, but is also the most honest person I know – the perfect taste-tester for my vegetal dessert experiment. For both of us, the first couple of bites were a bit of a struggle as we attempted to reconcile the ideas of nostalgic, comforting dessert and green vegetable. Also, the sweet, grassy cholorphyll flavor of the pea shoots was a bit overpowering. But after lick number three or four we started to come around…and we kept going ‘round until the bowls were bare. I suppose cream and sugar can convince anyone of just about anything.

Though there are numerous flavors I would prefer over pea – classic vanilla, malted chocolate, salted caramel, pistachio, or even red bean – the ice cream still possesses two unique, redeeming qualities. First, it may provide the easiest means by which to persuade choosy little tikes to consume green legumes. Additionally (and perhaps a virtue more relevant for the general population), this ice cream recipe utilizes the vegetable “scraps” that are usually tossed in the waste bin. After all, when one is finished shelling peas, there is practically a cup of tiny legumes to a wheelbarrow-full of pods.

As I write this, I realize it just so happens that today is Earth Day, a theme that exists in part to remind us of the impact that our waste has on this precious environment. Though you may never prepare the recipe below, I hope that it will inspire you to look at your kitchen scraps in a different light. Carrot tops, beet and turnip greens, garlic peels, lemon rind, parsley stems, and stale bread are all legitimate ingredients that are too often overlooked and discarded. As for the pea pods, I’m giving them another chance to shine – Pea Pod Soup with Crispy Proscuitto will top my lunch menu next week. Provided the temperature drops about fifteen degrees.

PEA POD ICE CREAM

MAKES APPROXIMATLEY 1 QUART I have since tried this recipe using the fresh peas themselves – the result was a much purer, pleasing flavor. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite measuring during this second experiment. My estimate is that 4 cups of fresh or frozen peas could replace the pods and shoots in the recipe below. If you try it, please post your results and offer feedback!


INGREDIENTS

1 pound very fresh English peas
1 cup tightly packed pea shoots
4 cups (1 quart) half-and-half
2 teaspoons organic kudzu (see Sources)
1 cup organic sugar
pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
pinch of sea salt

DIRECTIONS

Shell peas by pulling the strings that run along the curve of the pod. Discard the strings and tips; reserve peas for another use like this or that. Wash and rinse the pods; towel dry. Dissolve kudzu in 1 cup of cold half-and-half; set aside.

Combine the pea pods, pea shoots, and remaining 3 cups of half-and-half in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low; allow pods and shoots to poach and steep for approximately 25 minutes.

Puree the mixture in a food processor. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve or chinois, firmly pushing on the solids with back of a wooden spoon or heat-proof spatula. Discard the solids. Rinse out the saucepan and add the strained puree. Add the sugar, nutmeg, sea salt, and dissolved kudzu to the pan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, whisking constantly. Within one minute of coming to a boil, the sugar should dissolve and the kudzu should turn the mixture quite thick. Remove from the heat. If the kudzu left any lumps, strain the mixture once more.

Transfer mixture to a stainless steel or glass bowl; cover and refrigerate for at least three hours or up to overnight. Freeze mixture in an ice cream maker, according to manufacturer’s instructions. Store ice cream in the freezer in an air-tight container until serving.

RISI E BISI... BECAUSE I OWE YOU ONE

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I’m going to make it short today. After posting an epic on strawberries whose length was on par with the Iliad (at least in the blogger world), I figured a simple, yet delicious recipe was due.

Yes, it is another recipe revolving around peas, but seriously, this is one of my favorites. It is a Venetian dish of soupy rice and tender green vegetables that practically screams spring. Though there are numerous recipes floating around for Risi e Bisi, I have found that very few people have heard of the classic dish. Moreover, so many I know deem risotto too daunting to ever prepare at home, and I wanted to provide a basic technique that is accessible and undeniably straightforward. Please keep in mind that this dish can’t be bad, and it is only with practice that anything improves – so just go for it! And as always, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.

Buon appetito!

FOOD DESTRIBUTION IN VENICE, ITALY

RISI E BISI

APPROXIMATELY 4-6 SERVINGS AS A MAIN COURSE

INGREDIENTS

approximately 2 quarts vegetable or chicken stock
4 tablespoons unsalted butter or extra-virgin olive oil
1 ½ cups Italian Arborio, Carnaroli, or Vialone Nano rice
½ cup dry white wine
¾ pound green spring onions, white parts chopped, light green tops rinsed and reserved
¼ pound green garlic, white parts chopped, light green tops rinsed and reserved
3 cups rinsed, packed spinach leaves (I like "baby" spinach in this dish; it is more tender)
¼ cup rinsed, packed fresh flat-leaf (“Italian”) parsley leaves
2 tablespoons packed fresh thyme leaves, preferably “lemon thyme”
2 cups fresh, shelled green peas or frozen peas
zest of 1 lemon (I use a handy tool called a "Microplane")
3 tablespoons crème fraiche (optional, but it rounds out the flavors nicely)
Parmigiano-Reggiano for garnish
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

NOTES

If you can’t find green garlic, substitute 3 cloves of mature garlic, but make sure to remove the green germ in the center of each clove (its quite bitter)

Lemon thyme is a tender, citrus-scented thyme available at most farmers’ markets in the spring

I have marked specific notes regarding successful *Risotto Technique with bolded font

DIRECTIONS

In a medium saucepan bring stock to a boil over high heat; reduce heat to a simmer and keep warm. *It is important to keep the cooking liquid hot when making risotto; this step prevents the risotto from becoming the consistency of oatmeal.

Meanwhile, in a food processor, finely chop the spring onion tops, green garlic tops (light green parts only), spinach, parsley, and thyme; you want to finely chop the greens, but avoid pureeing them. Set mixture aside.

In a large *heavy-bottomed saucepan (I use enameled cast-iron), over medium-high heat, heat the butter or olive oil. When the butter’s foam subsides, add the chopped onions, green garlic, and a pinch of sea salt; sauté until translucent, about 2 minutes. Add rice and a pinch of salt; stir to coat the rice in the cooking fat. Cook the rice for approximately 3 minutes, or *until the rice just begins to toast and the grains have turned translucent except for a white dot at their center. *This is another important step when making any risotto – the rice must cook in the fat before any liquid is added to the pan. The fat coats each kernel of rice and helps it to maintain is integrity even as it releases its starch and becomes “soupy”.

*Add white wine and simmer until evaporated, about 5 minutes. Add hot stock, a ladleful at a time (assuming a 1-cup ladle), stirring frequently with a wooden spoon, and adding a pinch of salt with each addition. *Do not add another ladleful of stock until the previous is completely absorbed. Stir continuously with a wooden spoon (no metal, please). The rice should at a steady bubble and absorbing the liquid relatively quickly.

After a little over half the stock has been added, *about 15 minutes, taste the rice. *The rice should be al dente, like perfectly cooked pasta – toothsome, but yielding and fully cooked. If the rice is still hard, add more stock, a ladleful at a time, until the rice is done. Stir in the peas, spinach and herb mixture, and lemon zest. Continue adding stock until the peas are tender, about 1 minute for frozen peas, or 3 minutes for fresh peas.

*Normally, risotto should be neither soupy nor dry – the rice should be coated in thick “sauce” of its own starch. For this particular dish, I prefer the risotto on the soupy side, but this is simply my preference – add more stock or water until your reach the consistency you prefer. Stir in crème fraiche, if using. Taste for seasoning, adding more sea salt or freshly ground pepper as necessary. *If the rice sits for even a couple of minutes, it will absorb a decent amount of liquid – simply thin with more hot stock or water right before serving. Ladle into warm soup bowls, garnish with fresh shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano (I used my swivel peeler), and *serve at once.

IF SOMEONE WOULD PAY ME TO EAT STRAWBERRIES.....

...there is a mighty chance I would do little else.

And it may never change: the moment I spot a strawberry – those shiny, bright red, fleshy bearers of inimitable flavor – memories of my stay on an organic farm in Italy are conjured as much in my senses as they are in my mind.

I see a charcoal horizon receding to shades of sapphire, cerulean, and powder blue, ribbons of tangerine mingle gracefully with emerging fuchsia light. It is dawn in the town of Capriglio. We make our way to the dark, yet welcoming kitchen (which the host family refers to as “laboratorio”), housed in a repurposed barn just down the modest hill from our sparse accommodations above the family’s store. The exterior of the 19th century building is so darling – with its antique pine green shutter doors, their paint peeling beautifully, each adorned with a single red wooden shoe; the zealous, climbing vegetation that shades the matron’s potted plants; and the brick arcs accenting the windows, which despite their arrangement as a frown, evoke the impression that the quaint home is smiling. I feel as though I have fallen into the pages of a childhood fable. I’m certain I have.

I hear the small aluminum Bialetti espresso pot (one of at least four the family owns) whistling on the stove; Piero, the man of this house and head of the agriculture operation, has prepared the caffeinated ritual and we’ve learned what to expect – he likes it strong. I listen to the silence between the turning of his newspaper’s pages; he is remarkably quiet and subdued in the morning. We eat without an exchange of words, but the birds outside the always-ajar kitchen door are characteristically loquacious. After the quintessential Italian “breakfast” of a strong shot alongside cookies and homemade strawberry jam, we quickly make our way up the adjacent hill; fruits and lettuces must be picked before the rays of the sun emit scorching heat.

I smell the apple-like fragrance of chamomile, a flower that seems to know no bounds in the Piemonte region where we’ve chosen to sojourn. Not long enough. My nose senses the night’s dampness lingering in the air and can just make out the familiar odor of my morning flesh, something like saltines with butter and jelly. The center rows of the elevated, untidy field are dotted with the full spectrum of crimson, magenta, purple, and black. Despite the meticulous inspecting and harvesting of the previous morning, a multitude of bright berries are ready for their turn.

I feel the plant as I prune and pick, its foliage slightly irritating to my sensitive skin. I sense the solar energy radiating on the back of my neck and legs; it is already eight o’clock, and we must work swiftly. We begin with the fragile “fragole” and end with the blackberry-bearing bramble bushes that rise from the opposite end of the narrow plot. Each day I look forward to the relatively arduous work of ferreting out the tiny jewels; the air is hot, my body is sore, and the armored grey bugs that guard the plants look like something out of the Triassic period, but the reward is immense. The dainty strawberries glisten with dew and are just warm from the rising light. I locate a ripe specimen and pluck it by its vibrant calyx, which feels fresh and slightly wet. I cradle the fruit in my palm. The pleasurable process begins: one for the basket, one for my mouth; one for the basket, one for my mouth.

Ah, the taste. With each bite comes an explosion of their unique flavor, one I can only describe as strawberry. If I laser-focus on my tongue’s receptors, I can perceive the notes of pineapple and caramel chemistry tells us are there. Their juicy flesh is fire engine red to the core. They are quite small if measured by the plastic-caged grocery variety, yet deliver an intensity of flavor beyond comparison. They are perfect creations – and fuel for the back-busting work of weeding that never seems to end.

Though you may not be able to fly to Europe this season, “Pick Your Own” farms abound in this country. Asking your local farmers for recommendations is a surefire method for finding a gem, but this website is another great source: http://www.pickyourown.org/index.htm#states

Also, if working on an organic farm in the US or abroad is of interest, please look into The World Wide Organization of Organic Farming: http://www.wwoof.org/
My husband-to-be and I had wonderful experiences in Switzerland and Italy and are always eager to share our memories and to encourage others to join!

Not only is fruit-picking loads of fun (ok, perhaps the bending and sorting is a little tedious), the STRAWBERRY is nature’s prescription for spring!

From an Eastern health perspective, strawberries are calming, perfect for a season when the energy is so focused on growth and expansion, and is consequently prone to erratic bursts (think Springtime thunderstorms). Strawberries are cooling to the system, but I feel they verge on neutrality (not as cold as a banana, for instance). They also assist in the breakdown of toxins that have accumulated during the winter season, and are beneficial to the spleen-pancreas. They are moistening and lubricating (recall their juicy flesh) and boast antiviral properties. Their appearance is an indicator of their nutrition; as a general rule, the deeper the color of the fruit or vegetable, the more beneficial to health it is likely to be – and strawberries, well, they have about as deep a color as it gets.

Western medicine reports that strawberries contain as much vitamin C as oranges and provide significant amounts of vitamin A, B-complex vitamins, and potassium. Like all fruits, strawberries contain beneficial fiber. Moreover, they contain other compounds that improve blood lipid balance, thus slowing the development of heart disease (these are phenolic compounds known as anthocyanidins), and that inhibit the growth of cancer cells and tumors (ellagic acid).

Peak strawberry season is from late spring through early summer (approximately April until June); I do not recommend eating them at any other time of year – it is simply not worth the money or even the negligible calories. When purchasing strawberries from a store or farmers’ market, the best way to know what you’re getting is to taste before you buy. Strawberries (unlike, say, pears) do not improve once picked – they must be ripened on the vine. Their hulls should be intact (their calyx bright green) and they should be shiny and plump. They should be bursting with flavor and red (not white!) throughout. Also, it is widely known that conventional berries are the most pesticide-laden of all produce, so please seek out those grown organically. Purchase them from a local, trusted farmer and then cradle them the whole way home. According to Harold McGee, the estimable authority on food chemistry, strawberries are best eaten immediately after harvest (which I’ve tested and agree), but best stored at 32 degrees Fahrenheit (which I’ve also tested, and found to be true; if left at room temperature for longer than 12 hours, they begin to rot) – the moral of these facts is that you should shove as many strawberries down the gullet as possible before storing them on a refrigerator shelf. When they do finally make it to the ice box, make sure they are in a single layer in a towel-lined, tightly-sealed container; they should last for up to three days, depending on their ripeness.

Enjoy strawberry season – it is fleeting, but can, if we make the most of it, be the season during which lasting memories are made. One for the basket, one for the mouth.

NOT JUST ANOTHER PESTO RECIPE

Pea shoots, gloriously sweet and admittedly adorable with their signature curly-cues, were taking over my crisper drawer; I needed a way to use and preserve what amounted to over a pound of these special, seasonally ephemeral greens. The answer was immediately obvious (this is often not the case – hours, even days, can pass before an ingredient finds its calling in my kitchen). Moments later, my grey counter and beige linen apron were splattered Kelly green (in appearance and in humor, I was a close approximation to a little tyke who found her way into the Play-Doh stash without parental supervision), and I was munching on Rustichella d’Abruzzo penne with Pea Shoot Pesto.

Pesto is a Genoese specialty, one member of the legion of Italian sauces that are so simple in preparation, yet deceptively complex. The traditional version, with which I am sure most are familiar, is a celebrated concoction of sweet, mildly spicy Basil, potent garlic, creamy pine nuts, fruity olive oil, and rich Pecorino Sardo cheese, a sheep’s milk cheese from Sardinia. The name "pesto" comes from the method and tool employed in preparation; the aforementioned ingredients were traditionally pounded in a mortar and pestle until a smooth paste formed. Contemporary American cooks often prefer the speed of the now ubiquitous food processor, and I confess, for large batches I don’t think twice about reaching for this handy machine. However, for small amounts and a la minute pesto-making, I would much rather use the slow, therapeutic method of pounding in my heavy marble mortar; the basil appreciates not being attacked with a blade spinning at lightspeed (its gratitude revealed in the flavor of the final product). Moreover, the aromas released as the components slowly break down are truly transporting – I can almost hear the symphonic sounds of littoral activity at Portofino’s picturesque harbor, and the ominous church bells chiming in the square of Santa Margherita Ligure as rain pours upon my shoulders (Food loves to romance us.).

Pesto has a plethora of uses. In the Liguria region from which it hails, pesto is most often used as a sauce for local varieties of pasta, such a Trenette, and gnocchi, as an enhancer for soup or minestrone, and as a topping for a pristinely fresh piece of grilled fish. For the pea shoot version below, I would recommend these classic uses, but also support experimentation and exploration: spoon some pesto across a row of freshly roasted carrots (after all, peas and carrots are practically ordained partners); use it as a sauce for a brined, grilled pork chop, instead of the jarred BBQ standby; throw some in a pita with thinly sliced leg of lamb (I know there will be left-overs from the upcoming Easter feast); better yet, with grilling season approaching, I envision lamb burgers – capped with creamy feta, grilled red onions, and pea shoot pesto – that’ll steal the show; give a basic risotto an elegant, but easy finish; thin the pesto with a bit more olive oil, anoint it with fresh lemon juice, and jazz up a simple butter lettuce salad; and please, conjure up a grown-up grilled cheese, using a good sourdough loaf, aged Gruyère, and a generous spreading of pea shoot pesto (you should surely pour yourself a glass of Riesling with this distinguished snack). Use your imagination! The great thing is, you can prepare big a batch of pesto and freeze it for up to four months – it’s always there for those nights when you need a quick-fix…or a lamb burger!

This post is less about publishing another recipe for pesto and more about me taking the opportunity to reiterate my belief in the power of playfulness in the kitchen. I implore you to take a familiar dish and to substitute and tweak until your heart’s content. The basic pesto formula lends itself to many combinations: Almond & Fennel Fronds over a roasted red snapper; Pumpkin Seed & Cilantro stirred into a spicy bean soup; Walnut & Parsley with roasted beets and goat cheese; Pine Nut & Mint atop grilled summer squash; Pistachio & Arugula to accompany a red quinoa pilaf…the list goes on…

PEA SHOOT PESTO

INGREDIENTS

3 medium cloves of garlic, crushed, green germ removed
¼ cup toasted pine nuts or almonds
3 cups lightly packed pea shoots
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 tablespoons filtered water or stock
¼ cup high-quality extra virgin olive oil
1 ½ cups finely grated Pecorino Sardo or Parmigiano Reggiano
Sea salt to taste

DIRECTIONS

For the food processor:

Place all ingredients except olive oil and cheese in the bowl of a large food processor. Pulse until a coarse paste begins to form. With machine running, add olive oil through the feed tube in a slow and steady stream to emulsify the mixture. (If freezing pesto for a later date, do not add cheese; simply spoon small serving sizes into an ice tray or small plastic baggies, label and date, and freeze.) Pour the mixture into a bowl and fold in the grated cheese. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt or lemon zest if desired. If storing the refrigerator for a later use, even out the top of the pesto with the back of a spoon; spoon some extra virgin olive oil (in addition to what is listed in ingredient list) on top to “seal” the pesto from the air (there should be about a centimeter of oil on top) – this will prevent the pesto from turning brown. It will keep sealed with olive oil, in a covered container and in the refrigerator for up to four days. Never cook pesto – add to pasta, soup, fish, etc., once dishes are off the heat.

For the mortar and pestle:

Pound the pea shoots in a mortar with garlic, coarse sea salt (the texture helps break down the ingredients), lemon zest, and pine nuts. When the pesto is a thick, coarse puree (add a bit of water if necessary), start adding the olive oil in a slow, steady stream, stirring constantly with the pestle to emulsify the mixture. (If freezing pesto for a later date, do not add cheese; simply spoon small serving sizes into an ice tray or small plastic baggies, label and date, and freeze.) Stir in the grated cheese. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt or lemon zest if desired. If storing the refrigerator for a later use, even out the top of the pesto with the back of a spoon; spoon some extra virgin olive oil (in addition to what is listed in ingredient list) on top to “seal” the pesto from the air (there should be about a centimeter of oil on top) – this will prevent the pesto from turning brown. It will keep sealed with olive oil, in a covered container and in the refrigerator for up to four days. Never cook pesto – add to pasta, soup, fish, etc., once dishes are off the heat.

BUNDLES OF JOY – GREEN PEA FALAFEL WITH SPRING GARLIC & PERSIAN MINT

Though they are straight out the red Le Creuset full of 365 degree oil, I can’t resist. I squeeze a seeded, sun-gold Meyer lemon on the prettiest subject I spy (selfish, sure, but I’m in the hot kitchen). I take a bite at the expense of my oral cavity. Steam escapes, carrying the irresistible scent of fried food – you know the one. A crunchy exterior graciously gives way to a slightly creamy, ethereally airy interior. The flavor is at once sweet, salty, and spicy; it is subtle yet fierce, and I am relieved that the potent aromatics, cumin, cayenne and green garlic, do not overwhelm the delicate taste of peas. The bright, almost fluorescent, green color is arresting. “Precious bundles of joy”, I actually whisper aloud. Then I descend upon the platter like an ant on candy.

At nine in the evening, having recovered from my mid-morning gorge-session, I opt for a more composed dish, realizing the falafel could be improved by further accoutrements: good fluffy pita, refreshing cucumber, a sheep’s milk yogurt-tahini sauce that I loaded with green garlic, and freshly clipped Persian mint (the only herb I can grow in this Lilliputian apartment). I compose an aptly untidy, overloaded ‘sandwich’. With each bite comes an explosion of flavors and textures – and a welcome mess. The sauce dripping down my hand is heady with the mild bite of green garlic. I try not to eat too quickly, and blame my speed on the pita that seems to rip seam if I even look at it.

So perhaps I shouldn’t share my gluttonous proceedings or a recipe for fried legumes on a blog that claims to be devoted to improving health. But to me, this thing we call health is less about calorie-counting and fat-avoidance, and more about the quality of life. I have found that an exponential increase in quality is correlated with playfulness (especially in the kitchen), laughter, enthusiasm (I can be seriously enthusiastic about pomme frites dipped in aioli. Seriously.), and consciousness. Consciousness, as it relates to eating, is listening to the body, to what it needs and when it screams enough is enough (which I admit to disobeying on the storied evening, consequently paying for my actions dearly in yoga the following morning). It’s literally asking yourself – repeatedly if necessary, out loud if that’s what it takes – What is the most loving thing I can do for you? What do you truly want right now?

Occasionally, my body wants steamed bok choy with fish sauce over brown rice; yesterday, it said please(!) to the thought of frisky fried peas, dancing in front of the stove to a Pandora 80’s mix, and unabashed fun. And I promise, this recipe is fun to nth degree.

GREEN PEA FALAFEL WITH SPRING GARLIC & PERSIAN MINT

YIELDS APPROXIMATELY 2 DOZEN PIECES Falafel is a sort of Middle Eastern fast food, traditionally prepared with dried chickpeas or fava beans. However, I was so inspired by the bountiful, candy-sweet green peas showing up at the Spring market, I decided to make a swap. I think you’ll find the change a delicious one.

INGREDIENTS

3 cups fresh green peas (or frozen – see NOTES)
1 cup chopped green garlic, or 2 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
2 medium spring onions, both white and green parts, roughly chopped
1 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 cup chopped fresh mint
pinch of cayenne
1 ½ teaspoons cumin (preferably freshly toasted and ground)
zest of one lemon
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
sea salt to taste (I used approximately 1 ¼ teaspoon)

all-purpose flour (optional, see NOTES)

oil for frying, such as organic safflower, grapeseed, or deodorized coconut oil

NOTES

If you use frozen peas, you are more likely to have to add flour, as they will give off more water than fresh.

The flour absorbs water; if the mixture is too thin, the falafel will fall apart the second they hit the hot oil.

It is important to get the oil at the right temperature – too hot, and the outside will brown before the inside cooks; too cool and the falafel will come out “oily”, an undesirable characteristic.

Forming the falafel into oblong, football-like shapes not only ensures more even cooking than a perfectly round ball, they are also better suited for stuffing inside pitas, which make it their mission to fall apart and laugh in your messy face.

To make a delicious sauce to accompany the falafel, blend equal parts yogurt (I prefer sheep’s milk for it’s creamier texture; I also find it easier to digest than cow’s) and raw sesame Tahini (a sesame seed paste) with green garlic, fresh lemon juice and sea salt to taste.

Green Garlic is immature garlic that is available in the spring and early summer. It looks like a baby leek (see photo) and possesses a mild garlic flavor with a hint of onion, a tender texture and the key to my heart.

DIRECTIONS

Add all ingredients except flour and oil to the bowl of a food processor. Puree until a thick paste forms, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a spatula as necessary. Taste for seasoning and adjust salt or spice to your liking.

Heat oil in a large, heavy pot – the oil should be 2-2 ½ inches deep and the pot should rise at least 4 inches above the surface of the oil. Heat oil to 365 degrees F (use a candy thermometer or heat the oil on a fire of 8 (scale of 1-10), for about five minutes, and hedge your bets; I recommend investing in the handy dandy candy thermometer).

Press a bit of the mixture between your thumb and forefinger. If it holds together, you’re good to go. If the mixture is too wet to stay together, add all-purpose flour, a tablespoon at a time until the mixture holds its shape; do not add more than three tablespoons.

Using two tablespoons, form oblong, football-shaped “quenelles” of the mixture and drop them, one at a time, in the hot oil. It is important not to overcrowd the pan; this will have to be done in several (it took me four) batches, how many depends on the size of your pan. Once the falafel turns a deep, dark brown on all sides (they usually turn themselves, but occasionally need assistance), remove them from the oil with a spider or slotted spoon and drain them on a paper towel-lined sheet pan. Continue this process until all falafel have been fried.

Serve warm or at room temperature. I like to squeeze fresh lemon juice on top of each piece, stuff several in a folded pita, and top them with thinly sliced cucumber and spring onion, a garlicky Tahini sauce (see NOTES for recipe), and fresh mint.