When I studied abroad in Rome, my curriculum was supposed to be focused on architecture, but the education I actually took home was how good down-to-earth authentic Italian cooking could be. One of the most memorable things I ate that year was asparagus simply topped with grated Parmesan. That’s it! That’s all it needed to be perfect. Since asparagus is one the stars of the spring season, I like quickly roasting until it’s perfectly tender and then spooning on this light spring jacket of a Parmesan sauce. And while I personally only wear a light spring jacket one or two days out of the year, I find this sauce gets worn much more frequently.
We grow exceptional carrots. Our spring carrots are super sweet, thanks to a combination of the Nantes variety, our rich soil, and the cool Capay Valley spring nights. During harvest, some carrots inevitably break or are cosmetically imperfect. These are perfect for transforming into this delightful spring soup. Jenna
My mom adapted this from her Italian mother-in-law’s whole steamed artichoke recipe (see page 232) to make a dish that easily feeds a crowd. It uses the same flavors but eliminates the prep work required for whole artichokes and capitalizes on that mid- twentieth-century game-changer—frozen food—in the form of a package of frozen artichoke hearts. As in many ethnic families who have added their personal flavor to the standard Thanksgiving meal fare, this is my family’s “Italian” staple side dish and the first leftover scavenged the next day.
A great way to kick off the start of barbecue season, these lively skewers pack a lot of flavor. Taking a cue (wink) from Northern Chinese barbecue, we dust the skewers in a fennel seedy spice blend when they come off the grill. The crisp asparagus-and-fennel salad is a fun contrast to the meaty, smoky skewers—perfect for a cool, late-spring evening with friends. To round out the meal, we highly recommend pairing these with the Pine Nut Pepper Schmear (page 110).
Confession: I’ve always found potato-leek soup to be a little on the gluey side. So, when I make it at home, I try to add a green element, especially in spring months. Asparagus becomes quite subtle in this soup and pairs well with the anise-y fennel and peppery arugula in the background. Any manner of peas (sweet, sugar snap, snow) could be swapped for the asparagus. Because we are pulverizing much of the fiber in this recipe, I garnish the soup with a few raw asparagus spears as a carb companion.
While carrots are available 365 days a year, they especially shine in the spring, at their peak season. This recipe brings them to the center of your plate. Carrots are roasted in a brown butter sauce enhanced with floral saffron and piled atop creamy, soft, and tangy labneh, a Middle Eastern yogurt cheese. A handful of chopped fresh parsley and sweet toasted hazelnuts tie it all together. Definitely serve this platter with crusty bread or pillowy pita so you can swipe it clean.
Labneh is made by straining whole-milk plain yogurt until it’s even thicker than Greek yogurt and closer to the consistency of cream cheese. While it was once hard to find outside of Middle Eastern markets, you’ll now find it at some Whole Foods and other well-stocked grocery stores. Otherwise, you can make it quite easily yourself by simply straining Greek yogurt.
I love a chewy grain salad (this one has lentils too) with a lot of contrasting flavors and textures. Sweet, sour, chewy, crunchy, salty. You can go crazy and add more ingredients here; just don’t add toasted nuts or seeds ahead of time, as they will get soggy—throw them on top just before serving.
This salad is perfect over mixed greens, spinach, or arugula or served in lettuce cups for a quick easy lunch. It keeps well for five to seven days in the fridge. I adore using Homemade Avocado Mayo (recipe follows), or Primal Kitchen’s avocado mayo if you’re short on time, in this recipe.
When the idea for this popped into my head, I could almost taste it. It’s such a fine tumble of contrasting flavours and textures, and the sourness comes from the mango or the tamarind: you can never be sure of a mango until you taste it, so hold fire on finishing the dressing until you’ve tried the mango – add a little honey if it is unripe and sour; leave it alone if it is edging towards sweet. This is great with pea shoots in place of rocket [Ed. note: rocket is arugula], coriander rather than mint, a red onion instead of the shallot, and by all means cast pomegranate seeds over the top. Play with it as you like.
If you cook for others on a regular cadence, you’ll discover that not all the meals will be beautifully planned. Sometimes one thing leads to another and you forget to shop, or you forget that you need wood or propane or time to brine the meat. Sometimes you run out of time. Sometimes you run out of energy. Sometimes you just want to cook something simple and eat, toast one another, wash everything up, and take a long walk with the dog.