What do you eat when you’re feeling too busy to cook? If you’re like me, you’ll fall into one of these camps: Take-out (pizza, burritos); “Cooking” (quesadilla, grilled cheese, pasta). Not a lot of vegetable matter. A lot of food that is not really that satisfying but feels fine for one meal. But not, I repeat not, fine for more than one meal. Because — and this is the true sign that I am turning into an adult — I like eating vegetables. And I do not want or like to eat several meals lacking vegetables in a row.

But sometimes, cooking is hard. The pasta is staring at you saying, boil me. Just boil me, and add some olive oil and salt and a little bit of whatever you have in the fridge, and I will be delicious. Or, if you are me, and live where I live, then Chipotle is literally across the street, and I swear that they are pumping the scent of carnitas out their exhaust fumes.

This, then, is when I turn to kale salad. As evidenced by my recent lack of posts (and my apologies about that!), I am having a very busy day/week/month. Full discretion: I am actually eating a quesadilla right now, as I type. One made with corn tortillas (good local ones) and grated cheese, and that’s it. Not even any hot sauce. It’s a busy time.

Too often, I forget about kale salad. It’s a little counterintuitive, eating such a hearty green that I am so used to cooking absolutely raw. But it’s become my favorite way to eat kale, and one of — if not my absolute — favorite ways to eat salad. It’s so filling and so satisfying — the snap and crunch of the kale between your teeth actually make you feel like you are growing stronger as you eat it, not unlike Popeye and his spinach. And the zing and the cheesiness of the dressing makes the whole thing feel utterly decadent, even though it’s one billion times healthier than a slice of pizza.

All you have to do is buy a head of kale (which should run you about $3) and a few ingredients for dressing, ones that you might well already be stocking. You want Tuscan kale (some types: black, lacinto) — the good, thick, pebbled stuff that is closed in relatively tightly on itself. It’s the most common kind, I think, but I’ve seen other, frillier ones that won’t work.

Then all you do is chop of the stems (you don’t even have to de-rib), slice into ribbons, and toss with a couple magical ingredients (garlic, lemon, cheese, oil, salt), and voila, served with toast, you have a light supper. If you’re feeling up to a modicum more work, hard-boil an egg and slice it into quarters, add half an avocado, a tomato, some red onion.

If you’re feeling even lazier/more stressed, simply toss the cleaned, sliced kale with some store-bought Caesar dressing (I like Brianna’s), and you’ll be ready to eat even faster.

The original recipe calls for bread crumbs (preferably freshly made), but if I had to make bread crumbs, or even bother toasting bread crumbs, I would probably never manage to make this salad. The whole beauty here, for me at least, is how delicious such an extremely simple recipe can be. And so, I’ve made the recipe even simpler, the way I make this salad when I make it at home, on a tired night. (For the original, bread crumb including recipe, try one of the links below.)

Going on a little mini-roadtrip/vacay this afternoon to the Pizza Farm in Stockholm, WI. Photos and more later this week!

Raw Kale Salad

Adapted from Melissa Clark, via 101 Cookbooks

Serves 2 as a side

Ingredients

-       ½ bunch Tuscan kale (black, lacinto, etc.), rinsed and dried

-       1 garlic clove, minced

-       ¼ tsp. kosher salt

-       ¼ cup finely grated pecorino cheese (or Parmesan)

-       3 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

-       juice of one lemon

-       1/8 tsp. red pepper flakes

-       fresh ground black pepper, to taste

1. Cut bottom stems off of kale. Cut kale leaves into horizontal ribbons, about ½ inch wide. Place in a large salad bowl.
2. Combine garlic, salt, cheese, oil, lemon juice, and red pepper flakes in a small bowl. Whisk to combine. Pour dressing over salad and toss to combine.
3. Let salad sit for about five minutes (this is to let the flavors meld slightly, but it can also survive for longer – the kale is pretty hearty). Serve, grinding black pepper over if desired.

Spring has finally — finally, finally — arrived in Minnesota. If you look hard, you can still find a patch of snow here and there (not to mention the giant glaciers of snow that were created by all the plowing and will probably melt sometime in July). Also, it’s supposed to snow this weekend. The little frosty snowflake icon is back on my weather forecast. And that’s not great.

For now, though, it’s spring, and the weather is conducive to all kinds of frolicking. The produce aisle, however, has yet to really get the memo. You’d think it was still the very depths of winter if you looked at the sad array of fruits and veg that I saw when I went grocery shopping last week (no farmer’s markets for us here in the upper midwest, not yet).

The one high point of the shopping trip was strawberries. Strawberries prominently featured, strawberries hugely on sale. Strawberries that were probably hugely on sale because, unsurprisingly, they were hugely flavorless. Big gobs of pink-colored water, is what they were. And you know, I knew they would be when I bought them, but I still couldn’t resist, because, hey, it’s spring!

And then, when I got home from the grocery store, what was waiting for me but Super Natural Every Day, the latest Heidi Swanson joint, that I preordered from Amazon (oh, the shame) however many moons ago. It’s so breathtakingly gorgeous, people — I sat down and flipped through it before I even put my perishables away, and that is saying something. I mean, stunning.

And then, to make it even better, smack dab in her “Accompaniments” section, what else but a recipe for Roasted Strawberries. I love it when life, every so once in a while, hands you a little help like that.

I’ve never thought of roasting strawberries, but it turns out to be the perfect way to deal with these irresistible yet inevitably disappointing hunks o’ berry that come out at the start of the season. And, it turns out that Heidi couldn’t agree more — she chose this recipe as her favorite from the book (the whole beautiful book!) when she was featured on Design*Sponge (another favorite blog of mine) last week.

These berries came out just grand. And the aroma while they cook will fast forward you straight to summer. We ate these straight from the bowl, along with a chocolatey chocolatey cookie. In the future, I would probably use them more sparingly, on a biscuit or muffin like Heidi suggests. They are potent. That or you could tone them down a bit by foregoing the port and balsamic at the end.

Roasted Strawberries

Adapted from Heidi Swanson’s Super Natural Every Day

Makes about ½ cup

Ingredients

-       8 oz. strawberries

-       2 Tbsp. maple syrup, grade B

-       1 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

-       ¼ tsp. fine-grain sea salt

-       1 Tbsp. port wine

-       a few drops balsamic vinegar

1. Preheat oven to 350º F.
2. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper (important that it be rimmed, so there isn’t sugar all over your oven, and also important that there be parchment paper, so there isn’t sugar all over your baking sheet). You can also use a baking dish; it may require a little scrubbing afterward.
3. Prepare strawberries: Hull them (take the tops off). If they’re small to medium sized, cut them in half. If they’re the monolith strawberries, cut them into quarters.
4. Go ahead and toss this all right on the baking sheet: Strawberries, maple syrup, olive oil, salt. Make sure berries are coated, and shake them so they fall in a single layer.
5. Roast for about 40 minutes, beginning to check after 30. The berry juices should be thick and darkened, and the berries should be roasty looking (smaller, denser, darker), but not burned.
6. Remove from oven and let cool for a few minutes (the sugar is hot!). Once cool enough to handle (but still warm), scoop into a small bowl. Add port and balsamic and stir gently to combine.
7. You can use immediately or store in the fridge for up to a week (to eat cold, room temp, or heated up).

I’ve been a wee bit stressed lately. It’s that time in the semester, that time of the year (the school year). All kinds of little life things seem to be cropping up that unavoidably have to be dealt with, and that take more time and mental energy than they should. And, while it seems to maybe finally be sunny outside today, winter has just gone on for way too long.

So, we’re going to have a short post today, but a winning one. For how much I love cocktails, there aren’t too many on this site. Typically, I drink a fair number of Manhattans, some whiskey on the rocks, and a few martinis here and there. When I’m in a restaurant, I’ll order something a little more elaborate, but I’m not usually well enough stocked at home to really create a true cocktail (a Manhattan and a martini are basically mixed drinks, in the end). Nor do I usually have the investment to take the extra couple minutes. When a Manhattan tastes so good, why go to the bother?

But sometimes a drink comes along that doesn’t take much longer and that uses ingredients you probably have on hand. That drink is the Rattlesnake, a slightly tangier, slightly frothier version of the Manhattan. Very quaffable, and makes a nice change, especially as we move out of the darkest days of winter.

I was introduced to this drink at a friend’s apartment just around the corner from the restaurant Beretta, an haute pizza place in San Francisco. The recipe comes from there, with one slight change: Beretta’s version calls for Peychaud’s bitters, but I’ve had no luck finding anything besides Angostura anywhere in the Twin Cities. So, mine calls for Angostura. Also, when the beauty of the cocktail is that you don’t need to go out and buy anything, substitutes are welcome. Oh, and I love that Beretta uses Wild Turkey in their Rattlesnake. Mine are even classier, usually with Evan Williams.

The Rattlesnake

Makes 1 cocktail

The recipe used to be available here, but doesn’t appear to be now. I found it again here.

Ingredients

- 2 oz. rye whiskey (Beretta uses Wild Turkey; I use Evan Williams)

- 1 oz. lemon juice

- 1/2 oz. Grade B maple syrup

- 2 dashes bitters (Beretta uses Peychaud’s; I use Angostura)

- 1/2 oz. egg white (I’m not sure how you are supposed to measure this; I just used 1 egg white)

1. Shake all ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker (shaking is preferable to stirring to get the egg white nice and frothy). Serve in a cocktail glass.

I’ve been battling some kind of very persistent stuffy nose for the past couple of weeks here, as Minnesota weather goes back and forth between spring and winter. This is the kind of weather that brings on illness, it seems, especially when one (me) gallivants around on the rare fifty degree day without a proper coat.

That’s where this soup comes in. Not only is it delicious, warming, and fortifying, but it only takes about 20 minutes, max, to put it all together and on the table, and very few minutes to clean up, as well (all you should have to clean up is a cutting board and a pot). It will take longer if you want to use dried beans, and usually I do, but sometimes that’s just not an option. And, honestly, I don’t think it hurt this dish in the least.

You do, however, want to use the best quality chicken stock you can, homemade if possible (if you have some hanging out in your freezer, you can just dump it in the pot still partially frozen and it will melt fine — that’s what I did). Good quality chicken stock, I think, is what really makes this soup seem like it’s been bubbling away on the stove for hours, rather than minutes.

Spicy Sausage, White Bean, and Kale Soup

Ingredients

-       1 package Andouille sausage, chicken or pork (four sausages), sausages sliced horizontally into ½ inch slices or so

-       2 14-oz cans white beans, drained

-       1 bunch kale (or other hearty green), sliced horizontally

-       2-3 cloves of garlic, minced

-       1 large onion, sliced vertically into rough strips

-       1 quart chicken stock (preferably homemade, but at least good quality)

-       pinch of crushed red pepper flakes

-       pinch of dried oregano

-       salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

-       olive oil

1. In a large pot, heat a couple tablespoons of olive oil. When oil is hot, add garlic and onion. Cook until beginning to soften. Add sausage. Cook until sausages brown.
2. Add beans and chicken stock, bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer. Add kale. Cook for a few minutes, until kale is wilted and then a few minutes past that, to let flavors blend.
3. Season with crushed red pepper, dried oregano, salt, and pepper.

Well, it is back to winter in Minneapolis. After a glorious week of temperatures in the fifties, of rivers of melting snow, of sneakers and runs outside, the ground is entirely covered in snow again, I’m wearing my boots again, I’m going to have to shovel my car out again.

Enter warm lentils with mustard vinaigrette. This is a dish that spans the seasons. I made this in that beautiful winter/spring period I mentioned before, but it would be just as good on a snowy winter day, a rainy spring day, a blazing summer day, or a blustery fall day. It’s quick and it’s all on the stovetop, and it can be served piping hot, warmish, or room temperature (or even eaten straight, cold, from the fridge, if we’re telling the truth here). And it’s totally, mind-bogglingly delicious.

This dish is really a cinch, and it’s also a match made in heaven. Give me some lentils and mustard, and I will just close my eyes and pretend that I’m at a picnic in the French countryside.

Oh, and I should mention: The recipe comes from Ina Garten’s How Easy Is That?, which I got as a review copy. It’s not the kind of book I would immediately think of to buy — I tend to stay away from Food Network personalities these days — but Ina is different. She’s the real deal, with an approachable Hamptons style and lots of elegant, easy dishes that are surprisingly affordable (or at least affordably adaptable). She calls for somewhat pricey Le Puy lentils for this dish, for example, but I found it totally excellent with the cheapo green lentils from the chain supermarket by my house. So while this might not be where I’d immediately gravitate in the bookstore, I was surprised by how many recipes in this book I really want to cook. And this recipe, at least, has definitely made it into my regular rotation, and that’s saying a lot.

So far, the only real bone I have to pick with Ina is the absolutely extreme amount of salt in every recipe; but maybe that’s more the bone I have to pick with the general American palate. All I can say is, if you check out the book, add salt with caution. (I’ve made it to taste here.)

Warm Lentil Salad with Mustard Vinaigrette

Serves 3

Adapted from Ina Garten’s How Easy is That?

Ingredients

For lentils:

-       2 Tbsp. olive oil

-       1 leek (the white and light green parts only, sliced)

-       2 carrots, scrubbed and sliced in half lengthwise and then sliced horizontally

-       1 tsp. (or more) minced garlic

-       1 cup green lentils (Ina says Le Puy, but you don’t have to get that fancy)

-       1 whole onion, peeled

-       6 whole cloves, stuck into the onion

-       1 turnip, cut in half

-       1 tsp. unsalted butter

For vinaigrette:

-       ¼ c. olive oil

-       4 tsp. Dijon mustard

-       2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

-       1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

-       kosher salt, to taste

1. Heat 2 Tbsp. of olive oil in a pan. Add the leek and carrots; cook for about 5 minutes, until leek is beginning to soften and become fragrant. Add garlic; cook for one more minute, just to soften garlic.
2. Meanwhile, put the lentils, 4 cups of water, the onion (stuck with cloves), and the turnip in a large pot. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat, add the leeks/carrots, and simmer uncovered until the lentils absorb all the water (about 15-20 minutes). The lentils should be tender at this point, but test them to make sure; if they’re not tender, add more water little by little and let it absorb until they do get tender.
3. Remove from heat; remove the onion and turnip. Add the butter and stir in.
4. While the lentils, etc. have been cooking, make the vinaigrette: whisk together all vinaigrette ingredients. Add to lentils when they’re off the heat and stir to combine. Let lentils cool for a few minutes (this will help the flavors meld). Adjust salt and pepper to taste.

Well, it’s been a long weekend of eating, hasn’t it, friends? I think I really realized for the first time this year that while the true gluttony may be centered on Turkey Day itself, Thanksgiving is really just the kickoff of the gorging season. For most people, the gorging season, I suppose, means Thanksgiving to New Year’s. For those of us in Arctic Minnesota, however, the gorging season runs well through February, as we attempt to build up some extra insulation from the windchill.

So, sometimes after all that gorging, it’s nice to have some cleansing, and that’s where this soup comes in. And, as a bonus, any stray turkey leftovers still lingering about your fridge would work perfectly here as well (and would get a chance at rehydration in the broth). I’m not that into the idea of cleansing, per se, but sometimes you just want something light, something that makes you feel good after you eat it, rather than like you need to lie down immediately and maybe roll around for a few hours.

I actually made this soup pre-Thanksgiving in a moment of starved, fevered inspiration last week, but I just ate the remains tonight, and boy, did that feel good. You know what else felt good? The piles of turkey, and stuffing, and quiche (because we didn’t have enough cream already), and chocolate cake (because, why not), and everything else I’ve consumed, in fresh or leftover form, over the last few days. But this soup felt good in a different way, and in a way you may be craving as much as I was at this point in the holiday eating marathon.

One bonus is that this soup is super easy to assemble and cook, with the one big cheat of a packet of instant miso. I’m sure you could make this with legit miso, and it would be delicious, but when you’re in a hurry, or when you’re tired of so many days spent in the kitchen, prepping and cooking and cleaning, there’s no harm in a little shortcut.

Miso Chicken Noodle Soup with Edamame and Cabbage

Makes 3 or so servings

Ingredients

- 1 packet instant miso

- 1 large boneless, skinless chicken breast (or leftover turkey)

- 1/3 green cabbage head, cored and sliced into ribbons/chunks

- 1 big handful shelled edamame (either fresh or frozen)

- 1/2 lb. fettuccine noodles

- crushed red pepper, freshly ground black pepper, salt, to taste

1. Follow directions on back of miso packet to cook miso (bringing X amount of water to a boil, dumping miso in).

2. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. When boiling, add pasta. Cook to al dente, drain.

2. If using raw chicken, cut the chicken breast in half through the width, to make two thinner fillets. Then cut fillets into quarters. (This is so it will poach a little faster.) Once miso is boiling, add chicken pieces to broth. Let simmer for a few minutes, until chicken is poached through (it should be fully white on the outside and inside; you can check by cutting open a small piece). Remove chicken and let cool on a cutting board.

3. After removing chicken, add cabbage and edamame. Reduce heat. Once chicken is cool enough to handle, shred it into pieces with your hands. Return chicken to pot (this is where you’d add the leftover turkey, if you’re using that instead). Add drained noodles to miso pot.

4. By now, you probably have a lot of stuff (noodles, chicken, veg) and not a lot of broth. Add water until you have the amount of broth you want (I added about four cups). Some miso flavor will be sacrificed, but enough will remain, plus the flavor from the chicken (or turkey) to make a nice steamy pot of goodness, perfect for cultivating a little virtuosity between now and the next big holiday feast.

I have not bought lunch a single day this semester. I am on campus for lunch four, or sometimes five, days a week. This is a difficult proposition, but I have been adamant. For one, I don’t really have time. But, more importantly, for two: I don’t really have the inclination. I think the situation may be worse in a location that is crawling with thousands of undergrads (pizza, anyone? and…more pizza? and subs), but maybe you experience this problem, too. Lunch is often time-consuming (lines); not really what you want anyway (pizza); not that healthy (most anything take-out); and very often quite expensive, at least for what you’re getting.

Hence, my fervency about bringing my own lunch. This isn’t always a perfect system; sometimes it ends with me bringing a sad little jar of soup and coming home ravenous at the end of the day. Those aren’t the good brown-bagging days.

This chickpea salad, though. This made for some good brown-bagging days.

I got the idea for this after eating at a new Indian/Nepalase restaurant, where they served us a warm chickpea salad as a free starter. All of the food was delicious, but as my dining companion noted, there are only so many ways to improve on palak paneer. This chickpea dish, on the other hand, was something entirely new, and was one of the best — or at least most memorable — things we ate.

It wasn’t chana masala, but what was it? I may never know, or at least not until I return and inquire. (Any ideas would be appreciated!) Instead, I thought I’d make my own version. For some reason, I thought I’d be able to replicate the dish. This chickpea salad, in fact, comes nowhere close, but is super delicious in its own right — where the restaurant version was complex and thickly spiced, this version has a freshness and a purity to its flavors that is equally enticing, and maybe actually better for a workaday lunch, when it’s not in your best interest to be lulled into a food/spice coma.

I had all these ingredients in my fridge/pantry; that’s why this came together exactly as it did. You could substitute lemon (or maybe even vinegar) for lime; other chilies for the jalapeños; cilantro for parsley; other onion-family members for red onion; other vegetables (red bell pepper?) for tomatoes. Really, this should require minimal thought and minimal effort, for maximum satisfaction.

The result is kind of like a chickpea tabbouleh, but with the flavors pumped up a bit. I had to restrain myself from eating the whole thing immediately, in order to have any for my week’s lunch.

This would go well with any number of grains, but particularly well with quinoa. I threw some salad greens in my tupperware for good measure. And, in no time, lunch becomes something to look forward to again.

Chickpea Salad with Lime and Jalapeño

Makes 2 lunch-sized servings, with grains and lettuce

Ingredients

- 1 15-oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

- juice of 1 lime

- 1/2 red onion, chopped fine

- 1-2 jalapeños, seeded (carefully!) and minced

- 1 good handful parsley, chopped

- 1-2 tomatoes, chopped

- extra-virgin olive oil

- salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Combine all ingredients in medium-sized bowl. (Combine everything except olive oil first, then glug in as much olive oil as you want.) Add salt and pepper to taste. Will keep, in a tupperware, in the fridge, for at least a few days.

I’m not a big one for Rice Krispies Treats. When I was a kid, there was always a preponderance of them at bake sales, and they were always the same: boring. I did like that Rice Krispies Treats cereal, but I swear there must be some kind of drug in that mix, the same one that’s in Pops. I suppose that drug would be lots and lots (and lots and lots) of sugar. I never ate Rice Krispies Treats, though. I’d almost rather not eat a treat at all than eat a Rice Krispies Treat, that’s how strongly I feel.

Until these, that is. As regular readers of this blog may have noticed, I have a bit of a weakness for anything that is salty-sweet. Add brown butter — glorious brown butter — into the mix, and you have everything I love in one crispity crunchity bar of goodness. So, while I was skeptical, I still had to try these.

And let me tell you, they should not even be referred to in the same breath as that bake sale staple. The only thing they have in common is how easy it is to make them (no wonder so many harried mothers were churning them out). I seriously had no idea; you just mix things in a pot, and that’s it — no baking, no refrigerating, no nothing else involved.

Rice Krispies, while totally blah on their own, may in fact be an ideal vehicle for this brown butter/salt combination. What was once blah becomes complex and rich — a kids’ stand-by made suddenly a very adult dessert.

* Note: Most marshmallows contain gelatin, which may mean that they are not vegetarian-friendly. A quick online search brings up both vegetarian-friendly and vegan-friendly marshmallow options, which may be available at natural foods stores.

Salted Brown Butter Rice Krispies Treats

Makes 16 2-inch squares

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Ingredients

- 4 ounces (1/4 pound or 1 stick) unsalted butter, plus extra for the pan
- 1 10-ounce bag marshmallows
- Heaping 1/4 teaspoon coarse sea salt
- 6 cups Rice Krispies cereal (about half a 12-ounce box)

1. Butter (or coat with non-stick spray) an 8-inch square baking pan (another size will work fine, but your treats will be a little thinner).

2. Make brown butter: In a large pot, melt butter over medium-low heat. First it will melt, then foam, and then it will turn golden. The last stage is when it starts to turn brown and smell nutty. Stir frequently, scraping up any bits from the bottom as you do. Keep your eye on things – it can go from beautifully browned butter to blackened, burned butter extremely quickly.

3. As soon as the butter is brown, turn the heat off and stir in the marshmallows. Stir until melted. I had my doubts, but in fact the  heat from the melted butter is enough to melt the marshmallows. Amazing. (If not, you can turn the heat back on low until the marshmallows melt.)

4. Remove the pot from the stove and stir in the cereal and salt. Quickly spread into prepared pan. I used a silicon spatula to press down, and it worked fine, but waxed paper or parchment paper might work better.

5. Let cool. Cut into squares.

It’s been a long week, folks, both in terms of work and life, not to mention weather — it’s winter now, in Minnesota, which just makes everything that much more difficult. Into a long, difficult week, enter broccoli! Broccoli is not one of my faves (in fact, I’d call it a least-faves), but roasting it really transforms it from the bland, waterlogged beast it can be. Add chilies, lemon, anchovies, as well as red onion and garlic, and you’ve got yourself a vision in green.

I made this for the first time, and then the second time, this past week, and it has quickly become one of my most favorite dishes, both to cook and eat. It takes maybe five minutes to put together and 15-20 to roast. The results, basically, are insane. Insanely savory, both from the caramelization of the broccoli and the melting umami flavor of the anchovies; insanely flavored, still further, by the lemon and the chili. The only danger here is that you will eat an entire head of broccoli, if left to your own devices (just one more piece…). I would have never thought I’d be saying that about broccoli. But I am. And I wish I had some right now.

This recipe is inspired by a recent New York Magazine, but their original version of this recipe, courtesy of Franny’s, was a bit too futzy for my taste. Now, I do love Franny’s, and I’m sure their version tastes amazing, but there was a lot of tossing and removing and separating involved, not to mention the colatura on the ingredients list. Colatura, it turns out, are “essentially, cured Italian anchovy drippings.” As much as I would like to know what that could even mean, I don’t live anywhere near Brooklyn Larder, Franny’s shop, so I will have to wait to find out. Or one of you can investigate for me!

So, I did what any self-respecting, exhausted grad student would do: I threw everything in a pan and roasted it. I didn’t do a thing to the broccoli other than rinse them; otherwise, all of it went in, stalk, leaves, and all. I kept my garlic cloves whole. I used canned anchovies (a kitchen staple) instead of colatura. I’d like to say that someday I’ll try the official version of this dish, but mine came out so well…

Note: I’ve tagged this as vegetarian and vegan, because some vegetarians I know would still eat the anchovies. For vegans, this will be a different dish, but I imagine still quite delicious without the anchovies entirely.

Roasted Broccoli with Chilies, Anchovy, and Lemon

Loosely adapted from New York Magazine

Serves 2

Ingredients

-       1 head of broccoli (I bought mine at the famers’ market, where it came as a quart), cut up (you can use florets, stalk, and leaves here)

-       juice of ½ lemon

-       a few cloves of garlic, peeled

-       ½ tin of anchovies, roughly chopped

-       2 red chili peppers – I used Thai chiles, finely chopped

-       ½ red onion, roughly chopped

-       olive oil

-       salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat oven to 350º F.
2. Combine all ingredients in a baking dish. Douse with olive oil. Sprinkle a generous amount of salt and freshly ground pepper over. Mix.
3. Roast for 15-20 minutes, checking and stirring occasionally, until broccoli and onions are at desired level of roastedness.

Last weekend, I went to a new farmers market in South Minneapolis. New to me, that is, as my neighborhood one has already closed for the winter. It was a lovely day, 60 degrees and sunny, and there was Indian-spiced donuts and locally-roasted coffee. And there were not one, but two different stands selling cabbage flowers.

I’m still not quite sure what a cabbage flower is, really. I don’t think it’s edible, but it’s certainly beautiful. And I bought a bunch of them and carried them around as I gathered the rest of my goodies and was just pleased as punch, especially for the fleeting moment when I thought I had finally gotten to the bottom of the Neutral Milk Hotel song. And then, I was gently corrected. It’s clearly been too long since I spent some time with Jeff Magnum. But wouldn’t it be lovely to be the king of cabbage flowers?

And I bought parsnips and onions and parsley, and the last of the tomatoes for the year. And some glorious chard that I forgot to photograph in its raw, rainbowed beauty, but here it is in its yet more delicious form.

It didn’t take long for the tomatoes to get mushy and the cabbage flowers to turn yellow. But the tomatoes are still pretty tasty, and I think these newly yellowing, crinkling flowers are quite arresting in their own right.

And the chard lasts and lasts, and this weekend I will eat the last of it in scrambled eggs with tomatoes and goat cheese. And I will put on my coat and got to the farmers market again, and this time there probably won’t be tomatoes, and it probably won’t be 60 degrees, because in this last week we’re beginning to see winter, at least here in Minnesota.

Chard is super easy and super satisfying, a good entry-level green. I wrote about chard way back in the day, but I think it’s worth reminding you of now. Also, that used garlic and red onion, and this used just yellow onion, and really the lesson here is that chard just wants something a little onion-y to accompany it, but probably doesn’t even absolutely need that.

Nor does it need you to be as careful as I was, in my less chard-confident days, about separating every bit of stalk from leaf. You’ll want to cut off the thick part of the stem, and slice that up, but you can leave the greens with the ribbing.

Basically, it goes like this: Heat olive oil; add chopped onion and chopped chard stem; saute for a few minutes, til things are starting to get tender; add chard greens with a little bit of water; cook until greens are wilted, adding more water if needed; when done, add salt to taste.

Eat while admiring a bunch of beautiful flowers, or hearing the loud thunk of their hefty petals falling to the table below, whatever the case may be.