One of Trevor’s Christmas presents this year was a subscription to Walden Local Meat, a Boston-based company that delivers locally raised, high quality beef, pork, lamb, and chicken on a monthly basis. Our first delivery was in February and I was thrilled to find a boneless leg of lamb included in our share, along with fresh chorizo, pork for braising, and a nice flat iron steak. We don’t eat a ton of meat so it was exciting (especially for Trevor!) to have a freezer stocked with fancy cuts just waiting for inspiration to strike.

Sometimes constraints are the best driver of creativity, and this proved true with the lamb. I knew I wanted to make something special with it, something that highlighted the quality of the meat and was full of spring flavors. I found a recipe for leg of lamb with preserved lemon and cumin butter that was intriguing, but perhaps more Middle-Eastern then I wanted to go. But I loved the idea of using intense preserved Meyer lemon with the lamb, so I worked on the idea over a few days, and landed on a preserved lemon, harissa, and rosemary butter filling that I could slather all over the lamb.

As leg of lamb is a favorite choice for Easter, I decided to make the lamb the centerpiece of an Easter-themed Sunday Dinner post. It’s been a while since I’ve done a Sunday Dinner post, but they are still one of my favorite things to pull together. Of course, we didn’t actually eat it on Easter (or we wouldn’t have been able to share it with you in time!), but it made for a lovely Sunday evening meal in March. Alongside the lamb, we served Olive-Oil Braised Leeks and Peas with Feta and Roast Potatoes with Garlic Creme Fraiche. For dessert, we each had a thick slice of this Blood Orange and Olive Oil Cake I posted a few weeks ago.

The Olive-Oil Braised Leeks were a surprise hit, and I ended up making them twice in one week. I often find leeks a bit rubbery when served in larger pieces, but these were tender and flavorful. Braised in olive oil and chicken stock, then mixed with barely-cooked English peas, dill, lemon zest, and mild feta, they make a really lovely spring side dish. The layers of delicate flavors harmonize wonderfully and evoke all the best bits of spring. It’s definitely a permanent addition to my repertoire.

I’m excited to be really moving into spring cooking, now that the last of yesterday’s snow has melted and the sun is shining with real warmth. Before we know it the trees will be bursting into blossoms, and we’ll be spending Sunday afternoons putzing in the garden and sipping chilled glasses of rosé (I genuinely cannot wait until the first rosé-worthy afternoon, and I’m only a little embarrassed about it). The arrival of spring will only make coming together at the end of the day for a meal to linger over that much sweeter, whether it’s Easter Sunday or a quiet day at home.

The Menu
Olive-Oil Braised Leeks and Peas with Feta and Dill (recipe below, adapted from Simple)
Boneless Leg of Lamb with Preserved Lemon and Harissa (reicpe below)
Best-Ever Roast Potatoes (Serious Eats) served with Garlic Creme Fraiche (Food & Wine)
Blood Orange and Olive Oil Pound Cake

Past Sunday Dinners:

December 14, 2015: Roasted Root Vegetable Salad; Herb-Crusted Roast Beef; Cauliflower and Horseradish Gratin

February 15, 2015: Blood Orange Mimosa; Endive and Blood Orange Salad; Chanterelle and Chestnut Bisque; Coffee-Crusted Duck Breast with Brandy-Balsamic Sauce; Chocolate Espresso Layer Cake

August 31, 2014: Roasted Garlic, Ricotta, and Maple-Roasted Cherry Tomato Crostini; Eggplant and Pesto Napoleons; Maple Mixed-Berry Pie

March 31, 2014: Fried Halloumi with Spring Veggies and Strawberry-Basil Gastrique; French Gnocchi with Watercress Sauce; Strawberry-Rhubarb Meringue Pots

October 28, 2013: Braised Lamb Shanks with Gremolata; Creamy Polenta with Fresh Corn and Blue Cheese; Roasted Brussels Sprouts; Classic Apple Pie

July 1, 2013: Strawberry-Lime Agua Fresca; Smashed Pea, Dill, and Feta Crostini; Chilled Asparagus Soup with Meyer Lemon Yogurt; Mustard Spaetzle with Mushrooms; Ricotta Bavarese with Red-Wine Poached Rhubarb

May 26, 2013: Coffee-and-Chile Rubbed Strip Steaks with Chimichurri Sauce; Charred and Smoky Belgian Endives; Oven-Roasted Potatoes; Strawberry-Sour Cream Ice Cream

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Preserved Lemon and Harissa Boneless Leg of Lamb

Serves 4-5 as a main.

• 1/2 stick of salted butter, softened
• 1 TBS harissa paste
• 1/4 cup chopped preserved meyer lemon (about 1 lemon)
• 1 TBS finely chopped fresh rosemary leaves
• 1/2 tsp sea salt
• 3-4 lb. boneless leg of lamb

1. To prepare the rub, mix the softened butter, harissa paste, meyer lemon and rosemary leaves together in a bowl until thoroughly combined. Set aside.
2. Remove the netting from the lamb and unroll onto a cutting board. Carefully remove as much of the interior fat as you can, leaving the exterior fat intact, or partially trimming if desired (see this Serious Eats article for a good tutorial on preparing a boneless leg of lamb). Using about half of the seasoned butter, rub all over the interior of the lamb, pushing the butter into pockets between muscles and fat. Tightly roll the lamb up so that the butter is inside and tie in several places with butchers twine. Use a sharp knife to cut deep diagonal slits in the fat on the top of the lamb. Use the remaining half of the butter to rub all over the outside of the lamb, including into the slits in the fat. Sprinkle with salt (go easy on the salt – the preserved lemon will already be quite salty). Place the lamb on a rack in a roasting pan. Let sit for 30 minutes at room temperature, or, preferably, for 8 hours in the fridge (bring it to room temperature for 30 minutes before cooking).
3. When you’re ready to cook the lamb, preheat the oven to 450°F. Cook the lamb at 450 just for 10-15 minutes, to brown the outside and crisp up the fat, then reduce the temperature to 300°F. Cook until the interior temperature of your lamb is 130°F for medium-rare lamb, which should take another 45-60 minutes for a small roast. Check the doneness of the lamb frequently using an instant-read thermometer to avoid overcooking it. Once it is cooked, remove from the oven, cover pan loosely with tin foil, and let sit for 10-15 minutes. Slice and serve.

Olive-Oil Braised Leeks and Peas with Feta and Dill

Recipe adapted slightly from Simple. Serves 4 as a side dish.

• 4-5 large leeks
• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1/3 cup chicken or vegetable stock
• sea salt and pepper
• 1 cup English peas, fresh or frozn
• finely zest from one lemon
• 2 TBS coarsely chopped dill fronds
• 2/3 cup crumbled feta cheese

1. Remove the dark green tops from the leeks and discard. Remove about 1/4 inch from the root ends as well, if the roots are still attached. Cut a long slit along one edge of each leek and rinse the leeks very well in cold running water. If the leeks are especially dirty, you may need to cut another slit on the opposite edge to rinse them very well. Once clean, cut the leeks into 1 inch pieces.
2. Heat the olive oil over low heat in a large frying pan. Add the leeks and saute until they are beginning to get tender, about 5-6 minutes. Stir leeks frequently and try not to let them brown. Add the stock, season with salt and pepper, and bring the leeks to a gentle simmer. Cover with a lid and cook until leeks are tender when poked with a knife, about 10 minutes. (Stir the leeks occasionally while they are cooking to make sure they don’t burn).
3. Remove the lid and add the English peas, lemon zest, and chopped dill to the pan. Cook for 2-3 minutes longer, until the peas are just tender. Transfer to a bowl and sprinkle with the feta cheese. Serve warm.

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Part of me wishes I had never discovered this recipe, because now I’m kind of obsessed with these tasty little pan-fried breads. Seriously. They are the best thing that I’ve made in a long, long time. You know that feeling where even as you’re putting something into your mouth your belly is telling you “too much! You will regret this!”? And yet you do it anyways, because whatever you’re eating is really tasty or somebody put a bowl of oreos in front of you or you’re just bored and noshing mindlessly? Well that has happened to me all three times I ate these, except when I’ve finished them and am sitting on the couch with a very full belly, instead of regretting it, I think “that was so worth it.”

Parathas are a type of stuffed, Indian flatbread. You make a filling – in this case a mildly spiced mixture of smashed potatoes and green peas – plop some into the center of a piece of simple whole wheat dough, fold the dough over the filling twice, and then roll it out again so that the potatoes and peas get all mushed into the dough itself. You fry it in a little hot oil for a minute or two, until the dough is cooked and the inside is hot, then you tear it open and devour it, potentially pausing to dip it in a sweet chutney if you have that sort of self control. They’re soft and doughy, addictively salty and spicy, and just so full of savory goodness. They’re a little bit messy to roll out, but even as someone who hates cleaning sticky dough off counters, these are worth the trouble. This particular recipe for parathas is another hit from Mangoes & Curry Leaves – I’m so glad I finally bought myself a copy of this book! For those of you who know me in person, don’t be surprised if I serve you Indian food anytime you come over to my house in the next few months.

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Spiced Potato and Pea Parathas

Recipe adapted very slightly from Mangoes & Curry Leaves. Makes 8 parathas, serves 4-8.

• 1 c. whole wheat flour
• 1 c. AP flour
• 1 tsp salt
• scant 1 c. lukewarm water
• 2 c. Spiced Potato and Pea filling, recipe below
• 2 TBS vegetable oil

1. Mix flours and salt together in a medium bowl. Stir in lukewarm water, then turn dough out into floured surface and knead until smooth, about 5 minutes. Return to bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let stand for 2 hours.
2. Split dough into 8 equal sized pieces, keeping the ones you are not working with loosely covered. Roll a piece of dough out to an 8-inch round. Spread 3-4 TBS of the potato filling over one half of the dough. Fold the dough in half to cover the filling, then fold in half again in the other direction so that you have effectively folded the dough into quarters. Roll out again into an 8 inch circle, smushing the filling into the dough. Don’t worry if you’re filling starts to break out of the dough and gets a little messy. Repeat with the remaining pieces of dough and filling.
3. Heat 1 TBS of the vegetable oil in a skillet over medium heat. Once the oil is hot, add a partatha to the pan and cook for 1 minute. Flip over and cook for 1 minute on the other side. Both sides should be golden brown. If they aren’t, cook for another 30-60 seconds on each side. Remove to a plate, add a little bit more oil to the pan, and repeat with remaining parathas. Serve immediately with sweet chutney.

Spiced Potato and Pea Filling

Recipe adapted very slightly from Mangoes & Curry Leaves. Makes 3 cups.

• 1 lb. Yukon Gold potatoes, scrubbed and cut into 1 inch cubes
• 2 TBS vegetable oil
• 1/2 tsp black mustard seeds
• 1/2 tsp turmeric
• 2 tsp minced garlic or garlic mashed to a paste (1 large clove)
• 1 c. finely chopped onion
• 2 jalapenos, seeded and minced
• 1 c. frozen peas
• 1 tsp salt, or to taste

1. Place diced potatoes in a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, and boil potatoes until tender, about 15-20 minutes. Drain, let cool slightly, and roughly mash potatoes with a potato masher or a fork. Leave some chunks.
2. Heat oil in a large frying pan on medium-high. When oil is shimmering, add mustard seeds, cook for 45 seconds, until they stop spluttering, add the turmeric and garlic and stir-fry for 30 seconds, then add the chopped onion. Lower heat to medium. Cook, stirring frequently, for about 5-8 minutes, until onion is soft and staring to brown. Add jalapenos and cook for 2 minutes longer, then add potatoes and peas and stir to mix thoroughly together. Cook just to heat peas and potatoes through, about 2-3 minutes, then remove from heat. Season to taste with salt. Let cool and use as filling for parathas or samosas. Also tasty on it’s own, or shaped into cakes and pan-fried.

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I have one last pea recipe before I move on to other, less green things. A pea salad is perhaps not the most exciting recipe in the world, but it made an easy and satisfying dinner last night – and it helped me clean out the fridge before leaving for vacation. The basic blueprint for this recipe comes from Nigel Slater’s Tender. It’s a simple dish, as many of his are, made from hot crisped bacon, sliced fennel, peas, fried eggs, and the tenderest lettuce you can find (so far, lettuce is the crop we’ve harvested the most of). The original recipe also called for homemade croutons toasted in the bacon grease, but all my bread had gone moldy… so I skipped that.

I loved the combination of peas and fennel in this. Tarragon, anise, fennel… they all have that sweetish herbal quality that enhances the pure sweetness of the peas even more. I know I may sound like a bit of a broken record, given that 3 out of 4 recipes I posted this week had either tarragon or fennel in them, but it just works. Small, tender fennel bulbs are just hitting the farmer’s markets in Boston as the peas make their exit, so the timing is perfect, too.

And that’s all for peas. We don’t have a ton left in the garden, and it’s getting a little hot for them to keep flowering. Plus, I’m really tired of shelling them – I spent a good 45 minutes of my life this week shelling peas (and maybe drinking wine while doing it). Lessons learned from this edition of ingredient of the week? Peas taste great with fennel and tarragon, peas from the garden are a revelation, and for your own sake, find a friend to coerce into shelling them with you.

A Salad of Bacon, Peas, and Fennel

Adapted from Tender. Serves 2.

• 4 slices bacon
• 1 1/2 c. shelled English peas, from about 1 1/2 lb. pea pods
• 1 medium bulb of fennel, fronds trimmed
• several large handfuls of tender lettuce, such as butter
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp mustard
• 2 tsp red wine vinegar
• 2 TBS olive oil
• salt and pepper, to taste

1. Fry the bacon over medium heat until crisp. Remove from pan, and let drain briefly on a paper-towel-lined plate before chopping into rough chunks.
2. Turn the heat under the pan with the bacon grease to low. Wait a minute or two, then add the shelled peas. Cook until bright green, about 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally, then remove them with a slotted spoon and place them in a bowl.
3. Crack two eggs into the pan with the remaining bacon grease and fry sunny-side up.
4. Tear the lettuce into bite sized pieces and place in a large bowl. Thinly slice the fennel and add to the lettuce. Add the cooked peas and the chopped bacon.
5. In a small bowl, whisk together the mustard, vinegar, and olive oil until cohesive. Season to taste with salt and pepper, then dress the salad with it.
6. Split the salad between two plates, topping each with one of the fried eggs. Serve immediately.

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I was reminded the other night of the difference between a mediocre English pea and a perfect one. The bag of peas I had picked up at the farmer’s market was just so-so – the peas were fresh, but not particularly sweet, and starchy even though they were small. As I shelled them I wondered if perhaps I had built them up as a favorite ingredient in my memory more than I should have. Really, these run of the mill vegetables were what I had spent months anticipating? Then, last night we went to Andover to take care of this week’s gardening needs. Of course, as soon as I got off the train in town it started pouring, then thundering, and then hailing. It was not an ideal situation. Instead of gardening we sat inside and listened to the storm while eating tacos made from the El Paso kit I found in the cupboard. Around 8 the lightning moved far enough into the distance that we decided to brave the remaining weather, so we ran out into the humid garden, the darkness deepening by the minute, and rushed through our chores. It was dirty, and dark, and the mosquitos were vicious, but I managed to grab a few handfuls of peas, favas, lettuce, and rhubarb to take home. On the drizzly drive back I was frustrated – we put so much work and money and time into this garden and here it was, mid-June, and all we had was a measly half-full bag of veggies to show for it, while the deer were having a free-for-all with our baby fruit. What was the point?

Back in Somerville, I washed the veggies and began putting them away. On a whim, I cracked open one of the pea pods and popped the peas into my mouth. I was immediately overwhelmed by the sweetness. How different from the peas I had bought! I’m sure the farmer’s market peas were initially just as sweet, but after coming off the vine they deteriorate quickly. Although the garden is still frustrating, the peas were positive reinforcement that all of our work is paying off, at least as measured by quality.

Now, after that story I’m being a little bit unfair and sharing a recipe that actually wouldn’t suffer too much from starchy peas (I’m saving what I made with our garden peas for Thursday’s post!). This recipe for green pea fritters uses both fresh and dried peas in what is basically a take on falafel. It’s from Deborah Madison’s Vegetable Literacy, and I was pleased with how easy, healthy, and flavorful these were. I love the use of tarragon in the fritter batter – something about tarragon just makes peas taste more like peas, a discovery I made when trying to create one of my favorite meals from Prague (that is a really old post – please don’t judge me too much!). The herbed creme fraiche is essential in making these fritters really sing, so don’t skip it. And, if you haven’t tried making creme fraiche from scratch, you should – all you do is stir together 1 cup of heavy cream and 2 TBS of yogurt or buttermilk, cover it, leave it in warm place, and 24 hours later tah-dah! Creme fraiche, for a fraction of the price you’d pay in the store.

To summarize: peas are really good right off the vine and they make gardening worthwhile. Make these fritters with some fresh peas. Make your own creme fraiche, it’s easy and cheap. Come back tomorrow for more pea recipes.

Green Pea Fritters with Herbed Creme Fraiche

Recipe adapted slightly from Vegetable Literacy. Makes 12 small fritters (serves 4).

• 3/4 c. green split peas (dried)
• 1 clove garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped
• 1 c. shelled fresh peas, divided, from about 1 lb. of pea pods
• 2 TBS chopped tarragon, divided
• sea salt
• 1/4 tsp baking soda
• 3 scallions, white and green parts only, thinly sliced, divided
• freshly ground pepper
• 1/3 c. creme fraiche
• 1 tsp minced chives
• olive oil or ghee, for frying

1. The day before making the fritters, place the green split peas in a bowl and cover with water. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let sit on the counter overnight to soften.
2. The next day, drain the green split peas and puree them in a food processor until smooth. Add the garlic, and 1/2 c. of the fresh peas and pulse until the peas are well broken up. Add 1 TBS of the chopped tarragon and a sprinkle of sea salt and pulse a few times to combine.
3. Scrape the mixture into a bowl. Stir in the baking soda and 2/3 of the sliced scallions. Season the fritter batter to taste with salt and pepper.
4. Bring a small pot of salted water to a boil. Blanch the remaining 1/2 c. of fresh peas in the boiling water for 1-2 minutes, until bright green, then immediately drain and run under cold water. Set aside.
5. Stir together the creme fraiche, remaining 1 TBS of tarragon, remaining scallions, and the chives. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside.
6. Heat a film of olive oil or ghee in a large frying pan over medium heat. Drop spoonfuls of the fritter batter into the pan, pressing down on the batter to make rounded fritters about 1/2 an inch thick. Cook for 2 minutes a side, flipping when golden brown. Drain cooked fritters on a paper towel lined plate. Repeat until all fritter batter is used.
7. Serve the fritters warm with a generous drizzle of the creme fraiche and a spoonful of the blanched peas on top.

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We’ve been back from Italy for about two weeks, and I’ve finally made it through the first half of my pictures and thoughts about the trip to share with you here. I’ll let the pictures do most of the talking, but I have a few notes about where we stayed and ate and adventured, in case you’re interested (or lucky enough to be going to Rome or Florence in the near future).

We spent the first two nights of our trip in Rome, then after a quick (and slightly nauseating) train ride, we spent two nights in Florence. In both cities, what we did the most was walk. We’d wake up, open up the map, circle the places we wanted to see, then set out for the day until it was time for our 4PM siesta. After siesta, we’d go back out in search of dinner. A pretty good daily routine; I’d happily live every day that way.

Rome was a bit of a jet-lagged whirlwind, but I liked the city much more than I remembered. The last time I was there, I was 14, and Rome seemed far too loud, overwhelming, and dirty. This time, for the most part we stayed away from some of the main sights, and even after two days I was starting to get the sense of the thriving city underneath the throngs of tourists. We stayed at the perfect inn/apartment, La Finestra Sul Colosseo, which checked off everything on my list – it was spotlessly clean, spacious, quiet, comfortable, and modern. We slept like rocks. A highlight of our trip was spending Sunday morning on a food tour with Irene from Vino Roma. It was a bit of a splurge for us, but great to wander more pointedly and have Irene there to teach us about local food culture, both past and present. She took us to a truly local farmer’s market, where I was thrilled that no one spoke English, meaning we had to stock up on fresh fava beans, bread, truffled sausage, cheese, and the tiniest, sweetest strawberries of all time using our terrible Italian and a lot of pointing. We ate porchetta sandwiches and drank local beer, then meandered through the Jewish Quarter where we tried a truly remarkable “burnt” sweet bread from a tiny store with no name and an incredibly long line. We wrapped up with a cheese and wine tasting for a memorably tasty morning. Two other highlights from Rome: one, dinner at Cuoco & Camicia, where everything was delicious, but the carbonara-stuffed tortelli and the fillet of beef with foie gras and pumpkin cream were astounding. Two, our Sunday evening stroll/marathon – we walked from our hotel near the Colosseum, to Piazza Venezia, to St. Peter’s, and finally to the hill above the Piazza del Popolo where we soaked in the view and picnicked on our market finds. It was a solid 5 mile walk, and it felt good to see so much of the city before moving on to Florence.

I was less enamored with Florence, perhaps as predicted by Steve and Michelle. Given the small size of the city, and the large number of visitors, every corner we visited felt overrun with tourists. With this came an abundance of overpriced food, tacky “authentic” stores, and a lack of real charm. So, I didn’t love it, but we still had some great moments. Walking up the hill behind the Giardini di Bardini and finding ourselves in the midst of an olive grove felt kind of magical, as did being in the city for the Bianca Notte festival, during which all of the major museums were open for free all night, and bands and performers roamed the streets into the wee hours – it was a huge party, and the only time it felt like a living city. While walking through the Palazzo Vecchio that night, we happened to walk through an upper corridor as a horn concert began below us, and we watched/listened to the entire performance while standing in the center of that majestic building – that was a once in a lifetime experience, and it was incredible. We also ate at one good restaurant, Il Santo Bevitore, where dinner was delicious, if slightly dampened by the incredibly loud and rude Texans sitting next to us. (No offense meant to Texans in general, just these two in particular). And we found venison prosciutto and wild boar speck in the Central Market! So, so tasty. We might try and make some ourselves, just a warning.

So maybe I lied about the pictures doing most of the talking – I guess I had more to say than I thought! It’s fun reliving our adventures. It may be another week or so before I get my act together on the second half of our trip, but the last four days, which we spent in the Maremman countryside, were easily my favorite, so hopefully it’s worth the wait! In the meantime, I cooked up some Cacio e Pepe with English Peas for you. Cacio e Pepe is a classic and delicious spaghetti dish coated with a rich cheese sauce and a healthy sprinkling of black pepper – it tastes like what I always want mac’n’cheese to taste like. I had a version in Florence served on a black bean puree, which I re-imagined here using a spring pea puree instead. Buon appetito!

Cacio e Pepe with English Peas

Serves 3-4.

• 1 1/2 c. fresh English peas
• salt to taste
• 1/2 pound spaghetti or bucatini
• 2 TBS butter
• 1 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper, plus more for garnish
• reserved pasta water
• 3/4 c. freshly grated Parmesan, plus more for garnish
• 3/4 c. freshly grated Pecorino Romano
• 2 TBS sour cream

1. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Fill a large bowl with ice water, and set aside. When the water is boiling, add the peas to the water and boil for 1-2 minutes, until bright green and floating at the top. Use a skimmer to remove the peas and immediately plunge into the ice water to stop the peas from cooking. Set aside.
2. Add the pasta to the boiling water and cook according to package directions. When the pasta is done, remove to a bowl with tongs and set the pasta water aside.
3. In a large frying pan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the black pepper and stir until fragrant, about 1-2 minutes. Add 3/4 c. of the reserved pasta water to the pan and bring to a boil, then add the cooked pasta and all of the cheese. Stir to melt the cheese until the pasta is evenly coated with a creamy sauce, adding more pasta water if necessary.
4. Take 1 c. of the cooked peas and place in a blender with the sour cream and 1/4 c. of the pasta water. Blend until smooth, then season to taste with salt. Mix the remaining 1/2 c. of peas into the pasta.
5. Place a circle of the pea puree on each plate. Top with a pile of spaghetti. Finish with freshly ground pepper and freshly grated cheese.

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There isn’t always something to say about dinner. As a blogger, this fact sometimes stumps me. But food isn’t always nostalgic, or earth-shatteringly creative. Sometimes, dinner is what it is simply because it uses what you had in the fridge and it was the Friday of a long week, so you wanted something more than a quick omelette or a salad. Something hearty that would go well with a much-needed cold beer.

That’s all the story there is behind these short ribs. They were simple and satisfying and good enough to share. The Asian flavors in the spice rub on the beef married well with the lightly dressed soba noodles, and the raw peppers and snow peas provided a nice freshness and crunch. I adapted the recipe from The Great Meat Cookbook, where I turned as soon as I realized my original plan for the short ribs (goulash) wasn’t going to pan out. I reviewed the book late last year, but I’ll say again that it’s an excellent resource for a meat cooking novice. And with that, I’ll leave you all to enjoy your weekend.

Vietnamese-Style Short Ribs with Soba Noodle Salad

Adapted from The Great Meat Cookbook. Serves 2.

• 1/2 tsp Chinese five-spice powder (I made my own)
• 1-1/2 tsp paprika
• 1 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp black pepper
• 2 TBS plus 1 tsp dark brown sugar, divided
• 2 lbs beef short ribs
• 1 TBS peanut oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 tsp minced fresh ginger
• 1 1/2 c. chicken or beef stock
• 1 TBS Asian fish sauce
• 2 TBS plus 1 tsp rice vinegar, divided
• 1 1/2 tsp soy sauce
• 1 whole star anise
• 8 oz. dried soba noodles
• 1 TBS sesame oil
• 1 red pepper, washed, stemmed and seeded, and sliced into thin strips
• 1 c. fresh snow peas, washed and sliced in half on the diagonal
• minced fresh mint or cilantro, for garnish

1.  In a small bowl, mix together the five-spice powder, paprika, salt, pepper, and 1 tsp of the brown sugar. Rub this spice mixture all over the short ribs, then place on a platter, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate overnight.
2. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Heat the peanut oil in a large dutch oven over medium heat. Add the short ribs and sear for 1 to 2 minutes per side, until nicely browned all over. Remove the short ribs and set aside. Add the onion to the dutch oven and saute for 5 minutes, until softened. Add the garlic and ginger and saute 2 minutes longer, stirring. Add the stock, fish sauce, 2 TBS of the rice vinegar, the soy sauce and the star anise. Scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan, and bring to a boil. Return the short ribs to the pan, cover, and place in the preheated oven.
3. Cook the short ribs in the oven for 90 minutes, flipping them over and checking for done-ness every 30 minutes. They are done when they are tender enough to pierce with a fork, but are not falling apart. Remove the ribs from the oven but keep covered.
4. Put a pot of water on to boil and prepare soba noodles according to package directions. While they are cooking, degrease the sauce from the ribs, and add 1 cup of it to a small saucepan. Stir in the remaining 2 TBS brown sugar and 1 tsp rice vinegar. Bring to a boil over medium heat and reduce to make a thick, syrupy sauce, stirring frequently.
5. When the noodles and sauce are done, toss the noodles with the sesame oil, sauce, and prepared peppers and snow peas. Serve with the short ribs and chopped mint or cilantro.

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I’m here to tell you about our garden.

Finally.

I’ve been looking forward to writing this post since the beginning of February, when I planted the first tiny parsley seeds and proceeded to check them hourly for signs of growth.  I’ve taken hundreds of pictures, from those first tiny sprouts to the squash flowers that have just opened up to the fat little pea pods on the vines (peas! actual peas!)  and I’ve been dying to share them.  Well, I’ve shared a couple.  But really, I didn’t want to say too much about the garden in case it was a total failure.  Having written about it prematurely would only have compounded my disappointment.  I love this garden.  Like, I really love it.

From the get-go, I decided that if I ate even one thing from the garden, I would consider it a success.  And now that I’ve harvested not one, but two things from the garden (arugula! peas!), I’m taking a deep breath and declaring success.  And telling you all about it.

Dork alert: I’ve been keeping a garden diary.  Growing things is not something I have that much experience with, and when I’m unsure about something, I write about it until I understand it.  That’s why I have 8 journals full of notes about boys – they’re not as simple as they seem at first, what can I say?  But looking back at the notes I’ve taken in the past 4 months reveals how much uncertainty there is for a first time gardener – there was the week when the trees leafed out and the raised bed stopped getting morning sun, and I wondered if the sun would ever be high enough in the sky to give it afternoon sun (it is).  The days when the lemon tree suddenly dropped all it’s leaves caused a bit of panic too (it’s covered in blossoms now, although still a little low on greenery).  Just the other morning I found that some creature had hopped into the raised bed and eaten an entire kale plant, leaving no signs that the plant had ever existed.  Little heartaches are left and right in this process, but working in the garden with Trevor has become one of my favorite activities, and eating the first fresh peas this week has seemed more like icing on the cake than the natural outcome of all the hard work we’ve put into it.

I started planning the garden out in January.  I’ll admit, we were a little over-zealous, and the garden quickly spread from being contained in a 16 sq. ft raised bed, to a 16 sq. ft raised bed and about 20 pots and containers along the driveway.  With the exception of 1 eggplant, the thyme, the oregano, and the trees, we started everything from seed.  In February, we started the basil, sage, parsley, oregano, thyme, broccoli, eggplant, and tomatoes.  I invested in a heating mat and found that, even though they seem like a waste of money, the Jiffy pop-up seed pods were much more effective than planting in little pots with seed starter.  The oregano and thyme sprouted but never really grew, so we replaced them with big plants from Pemberton.  That first batch of basil got dried out when I went away for the weekend and had to be restarted.  The parsley was a slow-starter, but is now doing OK in the raised bed.  One of the eggplants really took off, and has it’s first flowers now.  The tomatoes have been the biggest success – San Marzanos and Sweet 100 cherry tomatoes.  The 5 cherry tomatoes are all huge and just getting their first tiny green tomatoes.  In March, the shelling peas and fava beans got planted directly in the bed, the lettuces went into a large stone bird bath, and brussels sprouts and kale got planted inside.  Then in April, the squash, cucumbers, and beets went in.

And now?  In the raised bed are 2 varieties of English shelling peas, fava beans, parsley, broccoli, cucumbers, roma beans, edamame, kale, and brussels sprouts.  On the porch?  A fig tree and a strawberry plant.  In the backyard, a planter that’s overgrown with arugula, parsley, radicchio, and lettuce, and containers with raspberries, more broccoli, mint, and sage.  In pots along the driveway, where it’s the sunniest, are the meyer lemon tree, tomatoes, summer squash, watermelons, basil – both green and purple, and cucumbers.  It’s a giant hodge podge of green, and I have no idea what will work and what won’t, but it’s the best experiment I’ve done in a long time.

To celebrate the arrival of the peas, the success of the garden, and the beginning of summer, I had a little dinner for Trevor and I on Saturday night.  An actual dinner – with a glass of prosecco, a main course, and a dessert, where we sat down at the same time at the table with bowls and forks rather than eating out of tupperware from the fridge.  Mostly I just eat the peas straight while I’m sitting in the garden – they are so incredibly sweet and cool and juicy – but I wanted to use at least a few in a real meal.  So I made a spring risotto, with peas, fava beans, asparagus, mascarpone, and pecorino – all the flavors of spring.  The fava beans and asparagus aren’t from our garden, but they are local and very tender and flavorful, so we’ll take ’em.  It was delicious.  And for dessert, there were parfaits with chocolate shortbread, whipped mascarpone, and lovely red-ripe strawberries from the farmer’s market… but you’ll have to wait for Tuesday for that recipe!

Spring Risotto with Peas, Favas, Asparagus, and Mascarpone

A Katie at the Kitchen Door original.  Serves 4.

• 1 1/2 c. arborio rice
• 4 c. chicken stock
• 1 c. water
• 1 small onion, diced
• 1 TBS olive oil
• 1/2 c. white wine
• 1/2 c. shucked fava beans (about 1 lb. with pods)
• 1/2 bunch asparagus (about 15 thin stalks), trimmed and sliced on a bias into 1 inch pieces
• 1/2 c. fresh or frozen English shelling peas
• 1/3 c. mascarpone cheese
• 1/2 c. grated pecorino romano
• leaves from 10 sprigs fresh thyme
• extra thyme and shards of pecorino romano for garnish

1. Prepare the vegetables.  Heat the chicken stock plus 1 c. water in a large pot over medium heat until it comes to a low boil.  Add the fava beans and asparagus, and boil for 2-3 minutes, until asparagus is bright green.  Remove vegetables with a skimmer and plunge into very cold or ice water to stop the cooking.  When cool, skin the fava beans – the easiest way to do this is to puncture the skin (which should feel a bit loose after cooking) with your thumbnail and then gently pop the bean out of it’s skin.  The bean on the inside should be bright green.  Set aside the vegetables, and lower the heat of the chicken stock to maintain a gentle simmer.
2. In a large frying pan, heat the olive oil over medium-low heat.  Add the onion and saute for 2-3 minutes, until translucent.  Dont’ allow it to brown.  Add the rice to the pan and cook, stirring, for 1 minute, until edges are translucent.  Add the white wine and cook, stirring until fully absorbed.
3. For the remainder of the cooking process, add the hot stock to the rice 1 ladleful (about 1/2 c.) at a time, stirring all the while and cooking until each ladleful is absorbed.  The entire process will take about 20 minutes.  If you find that you are running out of stock, add a bit of water to the simmering stock.  The risotto is done when it is mostly tender but retains a bit of bite – you don’t want it to get mushy.  When it reaches this stage turn off the heat.  Stir in the grated pecorino, the mascarpone, and the thyme leaves until the cheese have melted.  Add the prepared vegetables and the fresh or frozen peas.  If the peas are very young and tender, the heat from the risotto will cook them just enough.  If the peas are tougher and starchier, you may want to prepare them in the same manner as the fava beans and the asparagus.
4. Serve hot, with extra thyme and shards of pecorino romano.

The post Garden: Pea, Fava Bean, and Asparagus Risotto appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

Just a quick hello to bring you a quick super-seasonal salad I’m sharing over at Greatist this week.  I missed my last post over there (I know, you’ve heard it before, but work really has been crazy), so I wanted to make this one extra, er, healthy.  Which it totally is.  And not only is it healthy, it’s fresh, full of flavor, satisfying and a great use of some of the spring produce we already have in abundance – radishes, peas, and mint.

I made this salad last Saturday to go with the Vermont quiche we had for dinner.  Last Saturday was such a great day.  Even when I know I have to work weekends, I try and take one full day without touching anything related to work.  For me, that day is usually Saturday.  Sunday I’m getting organized and ready for the week, so working can feel like a natural part of that, but Saturday is my day to recover, catch up with Trevor, and do whatever I feel like doing.  And last Saturday, whatever I felt like doing consisted of a long run, a few photoshoots, and 3 beautiful hours gardening with T, taking plenty of breaks to sunbathe and drink rhubarb-hibiscus spritzers.

Our garden is tiny, and definitely an experiment, but it brings me so much joy.  I like taking a few minutes every day, either in the morning or when I get home from work, to just walk through and check on the progress of all the tiny vegetables and herbs.  It’s especially nice after a light rain, when everything sparkles a little.  I’m amazed at how much change can occur in a 24 hour period – today there were flowers on the fava beans that weren’t even buds yesterday, and 3 tiny new leaves appeared on every bean plant.  Even just standing there for a few minutes and watching all the green brings me this great centered calm feeling.  I sometimes wonder what my roommates think when they catch me just staring at a box of dirt and green things.  (Actually, I remember wondering the same thing about Megan last year, when I used to sit on my windowsill and watch my shoebox full of lettuce.  Literally, I planted a garden in a shoebox.  It didn’t go that well.  But Megan lived with me for 4 years; she knew these things about me already.)

Something about eating something as fresh and seasonal as this salad after a day spent working in the garden felt just right.  And I wanted to share that feeling with you.  Plus, it doesn’t get much faster, easier, or healthier than this, which is what Greatist is all about!  Head on over there for the recipe.

Other Greatist guest posts (fast, simple, and healthy!):

• Chipotle-honey chicken tenders
• Fruit and nut bars
• Quinoa puttanesca

The post Greatist Collaboration: Fresh Snap Pea and Radish Salad appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

When you picture yourself happy, what do you see?

And I don’t mean this in a melodramatic, how-do-you-really-want-to-live-your-life way.  And I don’t mean to imply that I am unhappy and thinking about the “if onlys” all the time.  What I mean is, when you’re having a crappy day at work, or you miss the bus and get stuck walking home and it’s sleeting, or you’re feeling uninspired and bored, what is the image that pops into your mind?  The very first one, before you actively construct a daydream?

When I picture myself happy, I am usually alone.  Is that weird?  Alone, but not lonely.  Alone, but knowing that the people I love the most are very close.  So close that I can go see them whenever I want, or even call out to them and have them arrive.  But still, that first image that pops into my mind – it’s just me.  And I was wondering – are there people who picture themselves as truly happy when they’re at the center of a circle of friends?  Or dancing with all eyes on them at a wild party?

Someone once told me that the difference between an introvert and an extrovert was this: “Both an introvert and an extravert can have fun at a party, but the introvert needs to recover from the party before the next one and the extravert sees the party itself as the recovery and fuel for the next event.”  When I heard this, it made so much sense to me.  I like being with my friends, I like going to parties, I like meeting new people, and I don’t consider myself socially awkward… but I frequently need down-time.  More than most of my friends seem too.  The term “introvert” has so many negative connotations to it in our culture, but I’m decidedly on that end of the spectrum.  I actually found this Wikipedia article about it pretty interesting at a basic level.  And it brings up so many more questions – what else does that aspect of personality correlate to?  Does it correlate to religiousness because introverts are more reflective?  Does it correlate to athleticism because extraverts are more likely to be active or out with others for more of the day?  Do introverts get along better with other introverts, or better with those who are more outgoing?  Obviously you could get too focused on this one aspect of human personality when there are so many facets, but it’s interesting to think about.  And good to realize that although the US tends to celebrate and encourage extraversion, there’s value across the spectrum – people just have physiological differences in their personalities.

Back to my happiness vision: I am by myself.  I am always outside.  Light is always important – it is usually early morning or late afternoon.  I am always somewhere rural, and somewhere quiet, and somewhere green.  I might randomly envision myself picking peas on a summer afternoon. Or holding a cup of tea and watching a quiet harbor.  Or simply sitting somewhere vast and beautiful and open.  The overwhelming feeling that I am experiencing is peacefulness.  It’s quite nice

Anyhow, I was just musing on that, and thought I’d share – along with a recipe that for whatever reason resonates with me when I think of being happy and by myself.  Maybe it’s the simplicity of it.  Or the fact that it’s really easy to make a single serving, with no forethought or planning involved.  Or that the fresh veggies remind me of being outside doing wholesome things.  Or maybe I just really like cream and parmesan cheese, and so that makes me happy.  No matter, whether you’re an introvert or an extrovert, you’re cooking for a crowd or just for yourself on a random weeknight, this is sure to please.  And yes, it’s basically a variation on this recipe with kale, but I’m making it with broccoli these days, so I thought I’d re-share.  I hope everyone enjoys their weekends!  I’m headed to Blog Better Boston on Saturday, and I’m looking forward to seeing some of you there!

Creamy Lemon Fettucine with Peas and Broccoli

Serves 2-3.

• 1 TBS butter
• 1 large shallot, sliced into half circles
• 1/4 c. heavy cream
• juice from 1 lemon (3 TBS)
• 1/3 c. grated pecorino romano
• 2 medium heads broccoli, cut into bite-sized florets
• 1 1/2 c. frozen peas
• fresh black pepper
• 1/2 lb. fettucine

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  When it reaches a boil, add broccoli florets, and cook for 2-3 minutes, until stems are tender when pierced with a fork.  Use a slotted spoon or skimmer to remove broccoli and set aside.  Add pasta to boiling water and cook until al dente.
2. In a large pan, melt butter, and sautee shallot over medium heat for 3-4 minutes.  Add peas, cooked broccoli, cream and lemon juice to pan and stir to incorporate.  Turn heat to low, and cook for 3-4 minutes, allowing the flavors to meld.  If cream starts to bubble, turn down heat.  Just before pasta is ready add the romano cheese to the sauce and stir until melted, then grate black pepper over the sauce.  Remove from heat.  Plate pasta then spoon the sauce and vegetables on top.  Finish with additional grated pecorino romano.

The post Happiness, Alone-ness, and Lemon-Broccoli Pasta appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

March is a funny month.  It can be fickle, and torture you with day after day of cold gray rain.  Or it can be lovely, full of surprisingly warm days and sunshine that feels like a blessing on bare skin after so many months bundled up.  Daylight savings brings an extra hour of light to the evenings, tempting us outside after work, but the tradeoff of returning to dark mornings can making getting out of bed a struggle.

March is mainly a month of waiting, and of preparation.  We sense the arrival of spring on the horizon, and begin to shed our winter dust – sweaters get put in trunks, windows get opened, closets are cleaned out.  Spring cleaning is not just a saying, it’s something we feel the urge to do – to get our affairs in order and be ready to start fresh in the new season.  Even in religions, March is typically a time of preparation – the season of Lent, when Catholics prepare for the resurrection, almost always occurs in March.  Holi, the Hindu festival of colors, also falls in March, and celebrates the coming of spring and the departure of winter.

Waiting, preparation, cleaning – to me this all calls for simplicity, including in our food.  Of course, I think there’s something to be said for simple food at pretty much anytime of the year, but the first batches of tender, green, spring produce (peas! asparagus! fava beans!) are worth showcasing on their own, simply prepared, just because they are such a radical and welcome departure from the heavy, starchy, foods that carry us through winter.  As I was sorting through my cookbooks this week, it seemed to me particularly appropriate to focus my March cooking on recipes from Rozanne Gold’s Radically Simple, a book packed with stunningly photographed recipes, most of which have fewer than 10 ingredients.  It truly lives up to it’s title.  I’ll be sharing a few more recipes from this book later this month, but I thought the book was very much in line with what the people over at Greatist are trying to accomplish – simple, healthful recipes that are still packed with flavor – so I wanted to choose this week’s collaboration recipe from it.  I settled on this pea and wasabi soup because, well, because I love pea soup, but also because peas are one of the first spring vegetables to arrive, and a sure sign that spring is actually here.  Plus, the wasabi and buttermilk in this recipe really dress it up.  I know it’s still a bit early for fresh peas in New England – I used frozen ones this time around – but they’ll be here soon enough!

Head on over to Greatist for the full recipe!

Other Greatist posts (healthy, easy recipes with fewer than 8 ingredients and under 30 minutes active time):

• Feta and Lentil Tabbouleh – Recipe, and Post
• Kalamata, Lentil, and Mushroom Veggie Burgers – Recipe, and Post

The post Greatist Collaboration: Pea and Wasabi Soup appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

Thyme, small and delicate.  Mint, robust and refreshing.  Sage, soft and lingering.  Rosemary, lavender, parsley, cilantro, basil – summer is a time of herbal abundance.  One of summer’s tiny joys is being able to step out into the garden and snip off a sprig of thyme here, a handful of basil there.  For one, it certainly beats paying $2 per ridiculously tiny package at the store.  More importantly, it allows for constant inspiration in the kitchen, as the summer herbs lend freshness and subtle aroma to everything from salad to bread to cocktails.

Recently, I’ve been trying to incorporate more fresh herbs in my cooking, both to ensure that our herb garden doesn’t go to waste, and to push the boundaries of simple recipes.  Basil in lemon sorbet added a subtle undertone of elegance.  Sage provided a lovely counterpoint to strawberries in these muffins.  And now, fresh pasta gets a delicate makeover with tiny flecks of mint worked in.  Thinking of one of my favorite treats in Prague, sweet pea and mint soup, and a delicious sweet pea and goat cheese ravioli I made with Trevor a few years ago, I combined the two.  And voila, these lovely, subtle, sweet ravioli.  The filling is really delicious – petite peas, cream, mascarpone, goat cheese, and garlic for a hint of bite – and the mint gently enhances the flavors.  Personally, I love making fresh pasta – I find kneading therapeutic and it’s so rewarding when you pull a long, impossibly thin sheet of pasta from the roller.  However, if you’re in a hurry or not feeling up to the homemade pasta thing, these are still worth making with frozen pasta sheets or wonton wrappers – just add a bit of fresh chopped mint to the filling.

Mint Ravioli with Sweet Pea and Goat Cheese Filling

Adapted from here and here.  Makes about 20 ravioli – serves 2 or 3.

• 1 1/4 c. frozen petite pois (baby peas)
• 1/4 c. heavy cream
• 1 tsp sugar
• 1 garlic clove, smashed
• 3 oz. fresh goat cheese
• 2 TBS mascarpone
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 c. fresh mint leaves
• 2/3 c. flour
• pinch salt
• 1 egg
• 2 tsp. olive oil

1. Prepare the filling:  In a medium saucepan, combine the peas, cream, sugar, and garlic.  Bring to a gentle boil, and cook, stirring constantly, for 3 minutes, until peas are tender and warm.  Remove from heat, and process or blend to desired consistency – it’s OK to have large pea pieces if you don’t want your filling smooth, but make sure you fully blend the garlic.  Mix with the mascarpone and goat cheese, and season with salt and pepper.  Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour.
2. Prepare the pasta dough: Bring a small pot of water to a boil.  Blanch the mint leaves – drop in boiling water for 30-60 seconds, and remove with a slotted spoon, transferring directly to a bowl of cold or ice water.  Squeeze water from leaves, and finely chop.  In a small bowl, beat the egg with a pinch of salt and the chopped mint leaves.  Mound the flour on your work surface, making a deep well in the center.  Pour the egg mixture and olive oil into the well.  Working from the outside in, pull the flour into the center with your hands, trying to keep the well from breaking as long as possible.  Then, knead the dough with your hands until it comes together.  Once it comes together, knead for 10 minutes.  It should be beginning to develop elasticity, smooth, and not sticky.  Lightly oil a piece of plastic wrap and wrap the dough in it.  Allow to rest for 45 minutes to an hour.
3. Fill the ravioli: Work the pasta dough into thin, square pieces.  Run through a pasta machine, starting on the largest setting and moving down.  (My pasta machine goes from 7 to 1, with seven being the largest, and I found that the thickness of this dough was best at level 4.)  Place a teaspoon of the filling half an inch from the end of the pasta sheet, and cut the sheet about 2 inches from the end.  Fold the dough over and crimp the edges with your fingers to seal the filling.  This dough was wet enough that I did not need water to seal the edges, but if you are having a tough time crimping, run a wet finger along the edge of the dough before attempting to seal.  Continue until all filling and dough has been used.  If cooking immediately, bring a large pot of salted water to a gentle boil, and gently lower the ravioli in batches into the water.  Cook for two minutes, and remove with a slotted spoon.  If freezing, lightly dust the ravioli with cornstarch and place flat in a freezer bag.  Press air out of bag, seal, and freeze on a level surface.  Boil straight from freezing.  Serve with melted butter, mint sprigs, lemon zest, and fresh parm.

The post Mint Ravioli appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

I know, I know, we’re closer to graduation than to spring break (ha! can you believe that?!), but I wanted to talk about the final component of my alternative spring break “food and farming” trip – the farming.  To be honest, I signed up for this trip mostly for the food part, and a little bit because I thought it would be nice to spend a few days out in the sun, doing a little honest work.  However, the farming component of this trip left me more inspired than all the scrumptious food and inspiring chefs combined.  Maybe because it’s a newer concept for me than cooking.  Maybe because I’ll never be able to kick that nurturing urge that extends even to tiny green things growing in a shoebox on my windowsill.  Or maybe because I have this hazy, completely idealized, rosy image of myself waking up early to collect eggs and milk the cow, working in the dirt all day, and sleeping the way you only can after a hard day’s work.  Whatever the reason, this trip got me excited.

Over the course of the four day trip we visited three farms and Durham’s community garden, SEEDS.  On Monday we spent the morning at Prodigal Farm, a goat farm run by Kathryn and Dave, ex-New Yorkers who recently decided to follow their dreams back down South.  Kathryn’s story resonated particularly well with me – a Duke graduate and practicing lawyer for 15 years, she gave that world up to live in rural North Carolina with Dave and their goats.  Now she spends her time caring for the goats (who live in an old school bus!), whipping up fresh goat cheese cheesecakes, and restoring the old farm they bought.  Oh, and taking on the Plum Island center for biological warfare research when they wanted to start a mainland operation and chasing them out of Durham, NBD.  While at Prodigal Farm, we ASB-ers played with the goats, who were surprisingly friendly and didn’t try to eat any of my belongings – I guess that’s only the unloved goats at petting zoos – and then spent an hour helping Dave to clear trees.  It’s amazing how much land you can clear in an hour with 20 college kids trying to earn their lunch – I kept thinking about how much my dad would love it.  Then Dave and Kathryn treated us to an incredible lunch of fresh goat cheese, jerusalem artichokes just pulled from the ground, okra pudding and … roasted goat leg.  Which was incredibly tender, delicious, and not at all what I expected.  Yes, it was a little bit odd at first to eat goat while simultaneously watching goats frolic, but after getting over the initial uncomfortableness, it was the coolest experience, being able to actually see the source of each food we were eating.  Inspiration, part one.

Later that afternoon we headed to Four Leaf Farms, where Tim and Helga run the neatest, most organized little operation I’ve ever seen.  On the very small plot of land surrounding their house, they grow enough produce to supply Watt’s Grocery, themselves, and several farmer’s markets, raise chickens, grow mushrooms in the woods, and even have a kiwi tree. (Who knew that kiwis grew in North Carolina?!)  I was amazed with how well they used the little bit of space that they had – I’m not sure I’ve ever been in such a supremely well organized place in my life – and standing in the greenhouse I was a little bit in awe of the rows and rows of green thriving in the middle of March.  More than anything, I think being at Tim and Helga’s gave us all the sense of “Hey, I could do this…”  I don’t think anyone’s dropped out of school to start a farm since break yet, but you never know.

Tuesday morning we spent 2 hours at SEEDS, Durham’s community garden.  SEEDS is a well-established, well-loved piece of Durham culture, where high-school students can work to grow and sell their own produce, younger children can attend day camp, and anyone who would like to can sign-up for their very own plot in which to grow their own vegetables, herbs, and flowers.  While at SEEDS we got some of our energy out digging out the bermuda grass from a new plot [side note: google has revealed to me that Jamaica grass – an energy drink that I’m pretty sure has marijuana in it – is not the same thing as Bermuda grass] and helping to sort the compost.

From SEEDS we headed to the newly established Duke Campus Farm, the reason behind this whole trip.  On 12 acres of old tobacco land in the Duke forest, several Duke students are farming a 1-acre pilot plot, new this year.  Duke dining services has agreed to buy all of the produce, and dreams for the farm are big, but there’s a lot of work that goes into creating a farm-able area before you get to the harvesting part.  On the two days that we were there, we helped build an 8-foot tall deer fence around the plot, hoed the soil into rows, shoveled manure, and finally, as the sun was setting on the last day of the trip, got to plant the first baby lettuces and kales.  I wish that the farm had gotten started when I was a freshman, as it’s something that I’d love to be involved in, but I’m glad that it exists now and I hope that it succeeds.

Since all this farming business ended, I’ve been a little bit obsessed.  The night after going to Tim and Helga’s farm I went to Kroger and got three packs of seeds and a bag of potting soil.  I now have four sage plants, four lettuce plants, and four basil plants that I am absurdly happy about.  Sometimes Megan finds me sitting on the windowsill in the morning, literally just watching the plants, and she has to remind me how weird I am.  I’ve also been devouring books like “The Dirty Life,” and one of my classmates caught me looking up how to grow asparagus in the middle of class, at which point he had to remind me that I am, in fact, a 21 year old college student and not yet a farmer.

To go along with all this springtime greenery, farm-ness, and inspiration, I baked these pea, pancetta and chevre tartlets, inspired by a recipe I’ve been eyeing in Sarah Banbery’s “Tarts,” for over a year now.  The fresh peas are the essence of spring, the goat cheese brought me back to lunch at Prodigal Farm, and the pancetta… well, pancetta just makes everything better.  These were delicious – light and creamy filling with bites of salty pancetta and sweet peas, and a flaky crust flecked with parmesan.  A little indulgent, but one or two makes a perfect Saturday afternoon lunch.

Pea, Pancetta, and Chevre Tartlets

Inspired by Tarts.  Makes 4 tartlets.

For the crust (makes enough for 6-7 tartlets, freeze extras)

• 3/4 c. flour
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 5 TBS cold butter, cut into small pieces
• 1/4 c. finely grated parmesan cheese, packed
• 2-3 TBS very cold water

For the filling

• 1/2 c. fresh peas, from 1/2 lb. peapods
• 1 TBS butter
• 2 shallots, peeled and finely diced
• 3 oz. pancetta, cubed
• 2 TBS finely minced fresh basil
• 3 oz. goat cheese
• 4 egg yolks
• pepper to taste

1. Grease four 3″ tartlet pans (I used pam and the tarts came out really easily).  Set aside.  In a medium bowl, sift together flour and salt.  Cut in cold butter, using a fork or pastry cutter to mash mixture until a crumbly dough is formed.  Add parmesan cheese, mix to combine.  Add water a tablespoon at a time, stirring between additions, until dough just comes together.  Set bowl in freezer for 5 minutes to firm up.
2. Divide dough into 6 or 7 equally sized lumps.  Stick the extra two or 3 into the freezer for next time!  Or make double the filling.  On a floured surface, roll out into a circle, and press into tartlet pans. Trim excess dough from edges, crimping as you go.  Put tartlet pans in freezer for 5 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 400°F.
3. Bring a small pot of salted water to a boil.  Add peas and cook for two minutes, until bright green and just tender, then drain and rinse under cold water.  Set aside.
4. Remove tartlet pans from freezer, and place on a baking tray.  Cut a circle of parchment paper to fit inside each tartlet pan, and cover with pie beans or rice to keep the crust from bubbling.  Blind bake the crust for 8 minutes.
5. In a medium frying pan, melt the tablespoon of butter over medium heat.  Add the shallots and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes.  Add the pancetta and cook until brown all over and shallots are caramelized, about 5 minutes more.  Add peas to warm for 30 seconds.  Remove from heat.
6. In a medium bowl, mix together egg yolks, goat cheese, and minced basil until smooth.  Add pea-pancetta-shallot mixture and season with pepper.  Divide filling evenly among four tarts, and bake for 12 minutes, until set.  Serve warm.

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So here’s the deal.  It’s the tail end of finals week.  I’ve been cooped up in my apartment for the better part of ten days.  It’s barely gotten above 30° since I got back from Thanksgiving break.  We had an ice storm on Thursday.  And it’s snowing, again.  I thought I lived in the South.  I was under the impression that it wasn’t supposed to snow here.  Ever.  Or maybe once in a while in a fluke extreme weather event.  I know I used to live in the South, because during finals week of fall semester freshman year I didn’t study because I was tanning.  Tanning.  In a sundress.  On the lawn.  In December.  And now I am not studying because I’m staring out the window at the snow trying to keep full-on depression from setting in.

The solution?  Pretending.  Pretending that it is not December.  Pretending that it is not finals week.  Pretending that it is summer, and I am on a picnic at the Eno, and I have no commitments, and I am eating lovely, summery, picnic food.  And watching the deer graze and the turtles bask.  And finding relief from the intense heat under a beautiful, freezing cold waterfall.

That day, which I am pretending now but which really happened once upon a time, was really wonderful.  Finding the Eno was something of a turning point for me.  I’d gone through the past three years not exactly hating Durham, but pretty convinced that it couldn’t offer me anything that I really wanted.  Like nature, and peace, and quiet, and beauty, and the exhilaration of being in a perfect place.  I tried the quarry – it was a bit warm and mucky and overcrowded for me.  The Duke golf course is like almost being in nature but being constantly reminded that you aren’t really.  And then I found the Eno.  It’s pristine.  The water is fresh and cold.  After months of either sweating outside or being bombarded with stale, air conditioned air inside, the feeling of being both cool and in fresh air was incredible.  There were actually herds of deer grazing nearby.  Trails meandered along the river.  Families swam in the amazingly cold water and laughed and the sun was warm and people like us had picnics and salamanders skittered about on the rocks and trout lurked in shadowy pools.  I stepped on a crayfish.  I played with the clay.  I relaxed.  I was so happy there.

Back to reality.  There is one part of that day that I can more than just imagine – the food.  On our picnic, we brought homemade baguettes and cannelini dip and camembert and poached pears and cookies and this wonderful pea and edamame bruschetta spread.  It was all delicious.  But the pea and edamame spread was especially delicious.  It’s the loveliest shade of green, it’s fresh and bright and creamy, and it screams “I am summery!  I am delicious!”  So I made some.  While it snowed.  And just the color made me feel a little better.  Instead of serving it on a baguette I like to have it like pesto, mixed in with some angel hair pasta and sprinkled with chickpeas and grated parmesan cheese.  It’s lovely.  I feel better.  Please come over if you would also like to pretend it’s not December.

Pea and Edamame Pesto

Adapted from Inspired Taste.  Makes about 2 cups of pesto.

• 1-1/2 c. frozen edamame
• 1/2 c. frozen peas
• 4 oz. parmesan cheese, roughly cubed
• 4 cloves garlic, peeled
• 2 scallions, ends removed
• 1/8-1/4 c. olive oil
• 2 tsp. lemon juice
• salt and pepper to taste

1. Cook edamame and peas according to package directions, or boil edamame in salted water for 4 minutes, adding peas for last minute.
2. In a food processor, pulse parmesan, garlic, scallions, and 2 TBS olive oil until smooth.  Add edamame, peas, and lemon juice and pulse to combine.  Taste.  Add salt, pepper, or more cheese to adjust seasonings to your liking.  Add olive oil until you reach the consistency desired.  Serve on pasta, on toasted bread, or stirred into eggs.

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Alas, pessimism never gets me anywhere, although I’m pretty sure there are some people who can get pretty far on it.  So I’m focusing on what I’m good at.  I can almost run a mile in 7:30 again.  I can draw moment diagrams like it’s my job.  I’m a reasonably good girlfriend and a responsible daughter.  I am a pretty good photographer – feel free to affirm me at my flickr page – and my writing might still have a future.  And although I’m a new cook and I can’t really afford fancy ingredients and non-essential utensils like muffin tins, I make pretty good soup.  If soup has to be my calling, so be it.  I could do worse.

This soup is special to me.  First of all, it’s one of the only recipes I can call my own.  (But I think that’s OK at age 20).  More importantly, it reminds me of Prague.  Beautiful, perfect Prague.   I spent last semester studying abroad there and it was an incredible experience – I would give up the North Carolina sunshine to be back in freezing Prague in a second.  I could go on and on about all the things I love about that city, but they are unrelated to this particular recipe so I’ll refrain.

Basically, Prague has this famous old cafe called Cafe Louvre where Franz Kafka used to write and dissidents used to gather and all that.  Cafe Louvre is definitely an item on any tourist’s checklist but it also retains some of it’s working history – people still take their papers and books there and stake out a table for hours while a seemingly constant stream of waiters in tuxedo vests bring viennese coffees in tall glasses.  The restaurant is delightfully cheap considering the quality and atmosphere, so I frequently joined the tourists, professors, writers, and students for the lunch rush.  The menu has several standout items, but at 69Kč the pea soup was my go-to meal.  And it was soooo good.  It has the perfect balance of sweet, creamy pea, mint, and lemon.  Plus, the way they serve it is great – a waiter brings you a bowl with a potato and bacon dumpling surrounded by several croutons, and then pours the pea cream over the dumpling from a little metal pitcher, bows slightly, and walks away.  I couldn’t get enough.  And so, upon arriving back in the US, I tried to recreate it.  This is the closest I’ve come so far.

Sweet Petite Pea Soup

Inspired by Cafe Louvre

• 1 T olive oil
• 1 onion, diced
• 4 to 8 medium sprigs of fresh tarragon, chopped
• 1 T crushed garlic
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 2 bags frozen petite peas
• 1/2 c. light cream
• 2 c. chicken broth
• juice of 1 lemon
• black pepper to taste
• 20 leaves fresh mint

1. Sauté onions, garlic mixed with salt, and tarragon in olive oil until onions are soft.
2. Add peas and 1/4 cup of cream,  stirring until peas are heated through.
3. Purée pea and cream mixture in batches in the blender with the chicken broth.  Leave some of the peas whole.  Return mixture to pot.
4. Add lemon juice and more cream to desired taste and consistency.  Season with black pepper.
5. Ladle the soup into bowls and place 3 to 6 mint leaves in each bowl.  It’s important to put the mint in while the soup is still warm but removed from the heat for the best flavor infusion.

If you don’t have any bacon-filled dumplings lying around, try eating it with a dollop of vanilla yogurt in the middle and fresh bread.  Like I’m doing right now. Yum.

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