We are huge breakfast muffin fans around here, especially now–during fresh, local berry season.  My absolute favorite muffin recipe is one of Martha Stewart’s, loaded with butter, sugar, buttermilk, and other lovely things.  The muffins weigh about a pound each, and come out of the tins almost dripping with melted fat.  Heavenly.  But not for everyday, alas.  I like to make super-healthy, reasonably tasty, multi-grain muffins for my family, but Muffin Enthusiasm does not run nearly as high for such things.  Today I’m sharing my favorite compromise “very-yummy-and-almost-healthy” recipe:  mixed flours, no white sugar, chock full of local blueberries–a true super-food.  Some mornings (like today) Claire works the compromise further, wooing me into streusel topping.  But why not?  Harvest season blueberry muffins are cause for celebration.

Here’s my recipe, adapted over time from Ginny Callan’s Horn of the Moon Cookbook (no longer in print):

Tangled Nest Almost-Healthy Blueberry Muffins

Mix together dry ingredients:

• 2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
• 3/4 cups unbleached white flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

In a separate bowl, mix well:

• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 cup milk or buttermilk
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup honey (if your honey is crystallized, warm  it to liquid before adding to the mix)
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Make a well in the dry ingredients, add wet ingredients.  As usual with muffins, stir just enough to moisten–don’t overmix.

• Fold in  1 1/2 cups of blueberries, fresh or frozen, with a few strokes.

This recipe makes 12 standard size muffins.  Fill muffin tins and if you’re feeling celebratory, add a sprinkle of your favorite streusel recipe, or use this one–

Mix together with your fingers until crumbly:  5 tablespoons melted, unsalted butter; 2/3 cup flour; 2/3 cup confectioners sugar; 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon; dash of salt.  Press lightly onto the tops of muffins before baking.

Bake 20 minutes at 400 F, until golden brown on top.  Let the muffins sit for a few minutes before removing from tin, and cooling on a baking rack.  Enjoy!

Miner’s lettuce  was named for the gold miners of the 1850s, who wisely ate it.  It’s an annual in the purslane family, and grows in various places around the country. In Seattle, we have five different varieties, the most common being Siberian miner’s lettuce.  There are two things I love about miner’s lettuce.  One is its habit of growing in moist, lush places–”fairyish” places, as Claire likes to say.  Whenever you are gathering miner’s lettuce, you are somewhere pretty.  The other thing I love is that it’s perfectly delicious.  Sweet, juicy, succulent, tastes a lot like a cucumber with an edge of wild complexity–a sort of nuttiness.  My favorite way to eat it is in nibbles along the trail, but it’s always nice to bring some home and toss it in a salad–either on its own, or mixed with garden greens.  The sweetness balances nicely with peppery arugula.  Some people cook it, but I never do. For optimal flavor, gather the leaves when they are small, and before the plants flower.

Nettles, which grow well in disturbed areas, are an urban forager’s staple.  Recently, they have become perceived as a weed to avoid, what with their habit of stinging us with their formic acid-laden prickles.  But historically they have been used for food, medicine, and fiber.  The stems can be combed apart, and spun like flax–I am hoping to learn to do that this year.

When wilted, the stinging properties are rendered harmless, but be sure to wilt them completely–when lightly steamed, our tongues can still detect the possibility of stinging, and become worried.  No one wants to worry while they eat.  That said, you can eat the leaves raw, and they are quite tasty.  Roll the edges of the leaves inward, top-side out, making a little nettle-leaf burrito.  Place it between your back teeth so it won’t unroll.  Claire loves to do this as a party trick, but she always makes me do the rolling–I should get Mama Danger Pay, but I love that she’s game for it.  Nettles are perfectly delicious–use them the way you would use any other wilted green:  braised with a bit of lemon dressing, over farro with some crumbled bleu cheese and toasted walnuts (yum), on pizza with goat cheese and foraged mushrooms, in soups, quiche, frittata…Nettles are best gathered when young, and there are still lots of smaller plants out there–bright green, and under a foot high.  They can also be steamed and frozen for winter cooking.  Make sure that you wear gloves and long sleeves when gathering and preparing!

My daughter is salad averse.  She will eat spinach cooked into a quiche or something, but prefers not to.  Still, she loves both purslane and nettles.  Part of it might be the fun of gathering these things, but she seems to really prefer the flavors.  In all foraging, there is this wonderful element of wildness, of something more complicated and interesting and delightful and nourishing than  everyday domesticated fare.  When we walk in wilder places, we nibble whatever we can along the way.  Not just the delicious stuff–huckleberries, salmonberries, thimble berries, miner’s lettuce.  But also the not-so-yummy but still-edible:  snow berries, Indian plum, just for the reminder that these foods are available if needed.  I want my daughter to feel always at-home, sustained, and nourished by wild places.

And tonight, a simple spring meal:  nettle fritatta, local asparagus, and a salad of mixed greens with miner’s lettuce.  Delish.

Here’s a nice little frittata recipe, but fritattas are a highly malleable form.  Improvise freely.

Tangled Nest Nettle Frittata

Wash about half a pound of nettles, with their stems removed.  Shake them gently, but leave some water on the leaves, stuff them into a skillet, cover, and steam over medium heat until wilted.  Turn the wilted spinach into a strainer, and press out any liquid with the back of a wooden spoon.  Set aside to cool.

In the same skillet, heat a little olive oil over medium heat, and fry one or two thinly sliced boiling potatoes.  Make sure you cook it until golden brown and tender, otherwise your frittata will be too crunchy.  Stir in a finely sliced shallot (or scallion), and cook another minute or two.  Turn onto a plate to cool.

Beat four eggs in a bowl.  Stir in about 1/2 cup feta cheese (or smoked gouda, or whatever sounds good), a pinch of salt, freshly ground pepper to taste, potatoes, and nettles.

Wipe the skillet clean, then melt a teaspoon of butter over medium heat and swirl it around to coat the sides.  Pour the egg mixture into the prepared skillet, and let it cook until the edges begin to set.  Meanwhile, heat the broiler. As the frittata continues to cook, occasionally loosen the sides with a rubber spatula, and tilt the pan so the uncooked liquid from the center moves to the sides.  Continue until the frittata is about 80% cooked, 15 minutes or so, then pop it under the broiler until the top is set, and turning golden.  So pretty!  Let it cool a bit before serving.  Enjoy.

For much much more on foraging, check out my friend Langdon Cook’s amazing blog, Fat of the Land, (starting with his recent post on miner’s lettuce), as well as his book of the same name.

I love making crackers, but I’d never made cheese crackers.  I started perusing recipes, checking out the Beecher’s ingredient list, and chatting up the homemade cracker folks at our West Seattle farmer’s market.  After some experimentation, I have a recipe that I really love.  It’s not the same as the Beecher’s cracker, but it’s pretty darn good.

I will confess to you that although a copy of The Human-Powered Home sits on the kitchen table, I make this dough in my food processor, and it takes about two minutes (I’ve written before about being a thoroughly conflicted and contradictory neo-Luddite).  The truth is, I just hate “cutting in butter.”  I know it should be meditative and fulfilling and all that, but I just don’t like it, and I’m tickled that I can toss flour and butter together, push “pulse” for ten seconds, and have the perfect crumby mix.  I think of the food processor, and my beloved pistachio-colored stand mixer as my “kitchen tractors.”  But by all means, make the dough by hand if you like.

Here’s the recipe, but I want to encourage you to play with it.  More or less of this or that.  Make it yours.

Yummy Cheesy Crackers

1 cup unbleached all purpose or whole wheat pastry flour, or a mix of the two
1/4 cup corn meal
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon white wine vinegar (more or less on the mustard and vinegar to taste)
1 cup good cheddar, grated
1/4-1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan
2 eggs

With your fingers, or in the food processor, mix the flour, corn meal, butter, and salt, until fine crumbs form.  Add the mustard, vinegar, cheese, and eggs, and mix until the dough comes together.  Cover, and let rest for 10 or 15 minutes in the fridge.

Divide the dough into two pieces, and roll it very thin–about 1/8 inch.  I used to roll crackers with a rolling pin, and that works fine, but lately I’ve been using the pasta maker, which works much better (with an added benefit:  as long as the pasta maker is out, Tom is often inspired to make some beautiful fettucine for dinner).   If the dough comes out ragged, add flour–as much as it takes for a good, smooth result–it doesn’t seem to affect the crackers in the end.  Remember you are making crackers, not pasta–you don’t have to condition the dough by running it several times through the machine, as you would with pasta dough.  But this cracker dough is not fussy.  If you need to pass it through a few times, adding flour as you go, then don’t worry.  It doesn’t seem to worsen when worked.

Prick the dough all over with the tines of a fork, then cut it into squares, diamonds, or triangles, using a knife or pastry wheel.  Sprinkle with a good finishing salt or kosher salt, and whatever else you like.  Paprika is pretty.  Seeds, such as cumin, caraway, or black mustard lend texture and spice.  Use your imagination.  They are also good with nothing at all sprinkled on top.

Heat the oven to 375, transfer crackers to a baking sheet, and bake until the edges are nice and brown, and the tops are beginning to turn golden brown, 8-12 minutes.  The ones in the photo at the top of the post are not quite done.  If you undercook the crackers, they will still be good, but less crisp. Store in an airtight container, and eat within a few days.

While you’re about it, you might want to make a double batch.  These disappear quickly, and you can freeze half the dough for next time.  Let us know how you like them, and we’d love to hear about your own favorite cracker recipes!

Molasses gives this bread a beautiful golden color without adding too much sweetness.

There are times, of course, when we just can’t be around to hover over the lovely pattern of rising-panning-rising-baking.  But my daughter seems to have become spoiled on home-baked bread, and declares any store-bought sandwich bread to taste “like chicken feed.”  (How does she know what chicken feed tastes like?  She won’t say…).  For such occasions, we have been enjoying a whole wheat quick bread adapted from  King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking that, while not quite as good as our favorite yeasted breads, is still pretty darn tasty. This bread keeps well, and  though there is a little brown sugar and molasses in it, it’s not too sweet, and has a rustic, old-fashioned flavor–it tastes just as good with a nutty cheddar as it does with our homemade peanut butter and blackberry jam.

Yummy Quick Molasses Nut Bread

2 cups whole wheat flour  (traditional whole wheat, or white wheat both work beautifully)
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (one stick) unsalted butter
1/2 cup light brown sugar
2 large eggs
1/3 cup molasses
1 1/4 cups milk
2 tablespoons orange juice
1-1 1/4 cups chopped nuts (walnuts are yummy in this recipe, but go ahead and experiment)

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flours, baking powder, soda, and salt.

In a large mixing bowl, cream the sugar and butter until light and fluffy.  Add the eggs one at a time.  Beat in the molasses.  Add 1/2 the flour mixture, then about half the milk, then the rest of the flour, then the last of the milk and the orange juice, mixing until moistened after each addition.  If using a stand mixer, scrape the sides of the bowl as needed throughout the entire  process.  Stir in the nuts.

Transfer the batter to a buttered or oiled 9 x 5 loaf pan.  Bake in a 300 degree oven for an hour and 10-15 minutes.  Check the bread in an hour–if it seems to be too dark on top, cover it lightly with foil for the last bit of baking. Let the finished bread sit 20 minutes before removing it from the pan, then allow it to cool completely before slicing.

The long baking time at this lower temperature allows the bran to become thoroughly moistened by the wet ingredients, making a wonderful, tender bread.  I love a hunk of this bread toasted plain with my morning coffee.  It’s dense, so slice thinly for sandwiches.  Enjoy!

It was time to take the pumpkin out of the pot and eat it. In the final analysis, that was what solved these big problems of life. You could think and think and get nowhere, but you still had to eat your pumpkin. That brought you down to earth. That gave you a reason for going on. Pumpkin.
–Mma Ramotswe, The #1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

Pumpkins are one of my absolute favorite things to grow.  When people visit my garden and see the long vines with their ripening green and orange orbs, they often say, “I would grow pumpkins, but I don’t have enough room.”  A common misconception!  Unlike a summer squash, say a zucchini, that takes up a whole world of garden, sugar pie pumpkin vines can be planted at the corner of a bed, then their vines trained around the edges.  When the summer garden begins its descent into depressing barren brown-ness, the pumpkin vines will be graced with gorgeous orange fruits that turn our minds to cozy things–tea during a rainstorm, books by the fire, and of course pumpkin pie.  Preferably with hazelnut-rum whipped cream.

For best color, nutrition, and storage, pick your pumpkins when they are fully mature.  The stems should start to feel corky rather than moist and fleshy, the fruits should be full sized, and the skins should be rather tough–it will be hard to poke your thumbnail into it.  Cut them leaving several inches of stem, and keep them in the garden for a few days to “cure” before preserving.

Even if you didn’t grow pumpkins this year, you might find it satisfying to choose some pretty ones from your local farm and preserve them for winter cooking.  When you see the gorgeous yellow-orange puree you produce, you will never want to open a can of that brown Libby’s stuff ever again.

Pumpkins are not very acidic, so they cannot be safely canned in a water bath.  If you want beautiful canned pumpkin puree, you will have to pressure can it, and since I have a subrational fear of pressure canners, I freeze my pumpkin, which works perfectly well, even if it isn’t as pretty.  (For directions on pressure canning pumpkin, check the indispensable Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving.)

There are two ways to prepare the pumpkin for pureeing:  roasting or boiling.  To boil, use a sharp serrated knife to cut the pumpkin into halves or quarters, scoop out the innards, save a little handful of seeds for next year’s planting, and the rest for roasting (the innards and a few skins can go to the chickens), then cut into large chunks and pop into a big pot of boiling water until soft enough to poke easily with a fork. Let cool, then skin.  The combination of a tough-skinned squash and me wielding a giant sharp knife strikes fear into the heart of my long-suffering husband (with good reason, I admit), so I personally use the roasting method:  use a fork to poke holes into the skins, then pop the pumpkins into a 350 degree oven for up to an hour, until soft.  Protected by their skins, the pumpkins are actually steamed, rather than roasted.  Let cool until easily handled.  Slice the fruits and remove the innards.  The skins will slip right off, and the pumpkins will slice like butter.  Many hands make light work, and it was fun to prepare pumpkins alongside my daughter.  Claire de-gunked the pumpkins and saved the seeds, while I sliced, both of us singing along with Abigail Washburn and her banjo.

One way or another, you now have soft, skinned pumpkin, ready to puree.  The intrepid may use a potato masher, but the rest of us will prefer a blender or food processor.  Having tried all three ways, I go with the food processor.  The processing should be easy, and the fruit should quickly puree into a soft, smooth, orange puddingy mixture.  If it seems to take forever, the pumpkin may still be too hard.  Even if you roasted it to begin with, hard pumpkin chucks can be popped back into boiling water if need be.

The prettiest color of orange...

Freeze in containers or freezer bags.  Our freezer space is limited, so I use bags because they take up less room.  Be sure to label the containers with the contents, date, and amount stored, and fill them in the amounts you most often use.  I pack most of mine with one cup of puree for pumpkin bread, and a few with two cups for my favorite pie recipe.  For easy storage in a crowded freezer, smash the bags flat, pile them on a cookie sheet, and freeze into a nice, stackable shape.

Be sure to save a cup of two for a batch of fresh bread!  Here’s my favorite recipe–all spices are “to taste,” and Claire, like many children,  prefers it with fewer spices in general.  I have grown to enjoy a nice gingery flavor alongside squash, but the cinnamon and ginger measurements could be reversed if you prefer.  This recipe works  well with any kind of winter squash, yams, or sweet potatoes, but I like it best with nice orange pumpkin.  If you use white whole wheat flour, the bread is even better the day after baking; the germ will have melded with the moisture of the pumpkin, the milk, and the spices.  So lovely.

Tangled Nest Pumpkin Bread

Whisk together:
1 1/2 cups flour (white whole wheat, all-purpose, or a mixture)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1-1/1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
3/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cloves

In a liquid measuring cup stir together:
1/3 cup milk (or substitute water, soy, or rice milk)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

In a large bowl, or the bowl of your mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat until creamy:
6 tablespoons butter, preferably unsalted

Add, and then beat until smooth (about 3 minutes):
1 cup sugar, and 1/3 cup brown sugar (light or dark)

Beat in 2 eggs, one at a time

Add, and beat until just blended:
1 cup of your beautiful pumpkin puree

Add the flour mixture in 3 parts, alternating with the milk/vanilla mixture.  Beat only as much as necessary, but scrape the bowl sides and bottom as needed to blend all the butter/sugar.

Fold in 3/4 cup chopped walnuts

You can also add a handful of raisins if you don’t mind squishy things hiding in your food.  (If I liked such things, I think I would try golden raisins.)

Spread evenly into a 9×5 greased bread pan, and sprinkle more chopped walnuts or pepitos on top.  Bake in a 350 degree oven, until a tester comes out clean, about an hour.  You may need to put foil over the top to keep it from over-browning in the last 15 minutes of baking.  Let cool in the pan for five minutes before turning out to cool completely.  Meanwhile, luxuriate in the incredible pumpkin-spicy fragrance of your kitchen.

And here’s how we roast seeds:  wash the seeds, remove most of the pumpkin gunk, pat off excess water, and let them air dry on a dish towel for an hour or so.  Saute in a little butter, soy sauce, and splash of worcestershire sauce until the liquids start to cling to the seeds.  Transfer to a baking sheet and roast at 350 until beginning to plump and brown–somewhere between 7 and 15 minutes.

They are best eaten warm from the oven.  So delicious!  And, as Mma Ramotswe says, they’re a reminder of the simple, most peaceful, most essential things in life.

Favorite pumpkin recipe?  Please share!

This year I tried a new freezing technique, inspired by June (my rural soul-sister) and her beautiful blog, Four Green Acres.  The tomatoes are halved, doused with a lovely herbed olive oil mixture, and roasted.  I’ve fixed cherry tomatoes this way before–SO delicious on salads, or on sandwiches with crusty bread (try then on ciabatta, with romaine doused in fresh caesar dressing–heaven).  But I’d never thought to freeze them.  Here’s what you do:

Rinse the cherry tomatoes, and halve them, then scoop out the really juicy-seedy stuff (save it in a bowl for the chickens–they’ll love you forever).  We find that the small end of a melon baller works great for this part.  Spread them, cut-side-up, on a baking sheet.  Claire prepares the tomatoes while I start on the olive oil potion.  Her comment:  “I feel like Laura Ingalls.  I come home from school, do my homework, and now I’m Putting Up Food for the Winter.”

For one baking sheet of tomatoes I mix:  about 1/3 cup olive oil; 1 large clove of garlic, minced; a couple teaspoons of chopped thyme (oregano and basil, or a mixture, would also be good–use whatever’s growing in your garden).

Use a pastry brush to spread the olive oil over the tomatoes, then sprinkle with your best sea salt, a small handful of finely grated reggiano parmesan, and a dusting of fresh ground pepper.

Roast in a 300 degree oven for–well, it depends.  You want that tasty roasted flavor, and the tomatoes should start to color and dry just a bit.  But you still want them somewhat moist and certainly not dehydrated.  Start checking them after half an hour, and use your best judgement.  They shouldn’t roast more than an hour.

Let them cool before gently packing them into freezer jars.  They can be plucked out a few at a time for tossing on salads, or nibbled whenever you need a sunny taste of summer in the dark of winter.  The only problem I have is eating too many of them before they make it to the freezer…

For a slightly different method, see June’s beautifully-photographed instructions.  She is not as lazy as I am, so she stirs the salt, pepper, and parmesan into the olive oil mixture, and spoons it into every individual little tomato.  So yummy.

Happy Harvest Moon.

Heirloom Tomato Tart

1.  Preheat oven to 450.  Toss 2 cups of course fresh bread crumbs (sourdough is nice) with 1/4 cup olive oil.  Press evenly into the bottom of a 9 inch springform pan.

2.  In a bowl, which a cup of whole milk ricotta with 1/2 cup grated parmesan, 2 eggs, 2 tablespoons of chopped basil, and season generously with course/kosher salt and fresh ground pepper.  Spread this over the crust.

3.  Thinly slice 1 1/2 pounds of tomatoes–I used mixed Striped German, Japanese Truffle, and San Marzano.  Use what you have and love!  Arrange them on top of the tart, brush with olive oil, then bake until the tomatoes are almost dry, about 35-45 minutes.  Let cool, then unmold.

The tart can be served warm, but is also delicious at room temperature.  Side with a garden salad for the perfect late summer meal!

This is the first year I grew the incredible, open-pollinated Striped German tomato. It's as gorgeous inside as it is outside, swirling with orange and red. Holds together nicely, and just the right amount of sweetness. I'll definitely grow this one again next year!

Enjoy!  And if you have a favorite recipe for beautiful summer tomatoes, please share!

My recipe is adapted from one of my favorite go-to cookbooks, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, by Deborah Madison.  It’s a fun one for kids, with lots of hands-on time.

Pita Bread

1 1/2 cups warm water
2 1/4 teaspoons (1 envelope) active dry yeast  (quick rise is fine–whatever you have)
1 teaspoon honey
1 3/4 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for the griddle
1 1/2 cups whole-wheat flour (coarsely-ground, if you have some)
2 cups bread flour (or all purpose unbleached white, or white whole-wheat)

In a mixing bowl, stir together the warm water with the yeast and honey, and let it sit until bubbly, about 10 minutes.

Stir in the salt and olive oil, then add the whole-wheat flour and beat until smooth.  Add the rest of the flour incrementally, until the dough is too thick to stir, then turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and supple.  You may need to add a bit more flour.  Turn it into an oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap or a damp towel, and set it aside to double in bulk, which will take about 50 minutes to an hour.

Punch down the risen dough, and divide it into ten pieces, rolling each into a ball.  Cover these and let them rest for about 15 minutes.

Roll a few of the balls out into 1/4 inch circles while you heat a seasoned cast iron fry pan or griddle on high.  When your pan is good and hot, reduce the heat to medium, brush the surface of the pan with olive oil, and put one of the pitas in the middle.  Let it sit for 30 seconds, then turn it over.  The cooked surface should be mottled, a little bubbly, and turning golden.  So pretty.  If it’s still all flour-colored, turn up the heat a little, and leave it on a bit longer before turning over. Let the other side cook for 30 seconds as well.  Put the finished pita in a cloth-lined basket, re-brush the pan with olive oil, and repeat with the next pita.  I usually roll the rest of the balls out while the first pitas are cooking–roll, cook, roll, cook.  There’s plenty of time in between.

You may notice at this point that what we have is actually a flatbread sort of thing, rather than a real pocket pita.  It’s true that the griddle method does not reliably result in puffed pocket pitas.  For that, you need to bake them in the oven.  I just think  pita recipes come out moister, tastier and so much prettier on the stovetop.  You can stack, scoop, and wrap food in these breads.  But if ultra-puffiness is what you’re after, try this:  put a baking stone on the center rack and heat the oven up as high as it will go.  You can bake three or four pitas at once, depending on the size of your stone.  When they start to puff, count to thirty and remove them.  You need only a few minutes of oven-time, apart from pre-heating–still a good summer solution.  Enjoy!

Yummy fresh pitas with a couscous salad featuring the last of our garden snow peas. The salad dressing is good olive oil with lemon juice, garlic, coriander, and a little dijon, salt, and pepper.

]]> http://thetanglednest.com/2009/07/homemade-pita-cool-bread-for-hot-days/feed/ 2 http://thetanglednest.com/2009/05/local-asparagus-a-super-delicious-spring-asparagus-galette-recipe/ http://thetanglednest.com/2009/05/local-asparagus-a-super-delicious-spring-asparagus-galette-recipe/#comments Tue, 05 May 2009 04:00:31 +0000 lyanda http://thetanglednest.com/?p=556 Don’t you love waking up in the morning these days?  Spring is springing, a heavenly cup of coffee is forthcoming, AND we are smack in the middle of local asparagus season.  Life is good.

It is arguable that there is never any defensible reason to do anything with asparagus besides roasting it beneath a thin drizzle of good olive oil, and a sprinkle of sea salt.  But I was having family over for Sunday dinner recently, and wanted to be somewhat dazzling, so concocted a spring asparagus galette.  I was thrilled with how it turned out–simple to make, beautiful to look at, delightful to eat.

This recipe claims no pretensions to the higher strata of eco-kosher-uber-healthiness.  But it WILL let you pick some nice spring greens, thank your local asparagus farmer, then watch happily as your grateful friends gather at your table and fall into faints over the wondrous deliciousness.

Asparagus-Love Galette

Crust:  Make a batch of your favorite pie crust recipe (I confess I pretty much always use Martha’s Perfect Pate Brisee for such things).  You’ll need enough for the bottom half of a 10″ pie, so you will probably have half a recipe left to freeze for next time.  Chill the dough while you make the filling.

Filling:  Whisk together–
–2 cups ricotta (low fat is fine)
–2 cups grated gruyere
–3 eggs
–1 teaspoon each of chopped fresh oregano and thyme (or 1/2 teaspoon each of dried)
–1 teaspoon kosher salt
–a few healthy turns of the pepper grinder

Roll the dough into a 14″ circle, about 1/8″ thick, and carefully transfer to a baking sheet lined with parchment, or ever-so-lightly oiled.  Spread the filling into the middle 10 inches of the circle, leaving 2 inches of crust all around.  Fold the crust over the filling, tucking the excess into little pleats.

Make an egg wash by whisking 1 egg with a teaspoon of water.  With a pastry brush, spread the wash between the pastry pleats, “glueing” them down.  Then spread a light layer of the wash over all of the exposed crust.  This will keep it moist, and give it a beautiful golden-brown finish when baked.  Chill the tart while you prepare the asparagus.

Asparagus topping:  Preheat the oven to 425.  Use a medium-large bunch of asparagus (about 4-5″ diameter–sorry, I just grabbed, I didn’t bother to weigh or measure).  Break the tough ends off, and peel about halfway up the stalks.  Cut diagonally into 1 1/2-2″ pieces.  Put the asparagus in a bowl, and toss with a little good olive oil.  Sprinkle with your best sea salt.  Spread on a baking sheet, and roast for 15 minutes, or until just tender and beginning to brown.

Lower the oven temperature to 375.  Remove your galette from the fridge and bake until the filling is set, and the crust is a lovely brown–about 50-55 minutes.  (You can roast the asparagus at the same time if you like–it will do fine at this slightly lower temperature.)

Grab a couple handfuls of mixed spring greens (including some peppery arugula if available), and toss with a drizzle of olive oil, a couple pinches of sea salt, plenty of fresh ground pepper, and a teaspoon of lemon zest.  Don’t leave out the lemon zest!  It will mingle so nicely with the asparagus…

When the galette comes out of the oven, allow it to cool for about 20 minutes.  Layer the asparagus over the top, then the greens on top of that.  Take a moment to admire your creation before carefully slicing to share.  This is such a rich dish, you can serve it with just a bowl of fresh fruit for a complete meal. Galettes travel well at room temperature–this would make a great picnic.  Enjoy!

And in the meantime let us know:  What’s your favorite way to serve asparagus?

One day early on this school year, Claire came home and said, “Mommy, you bake the bread for my sandwich, and we use our homemade jam.  We should mash up some peanuts with a rock or something instead of buying peanut butter, so the whole thing will be homemade!”  Well, that’s a girl after my own heart!  We haven’t bought peanut butter since (though we haven’t quite resorted to rock-mashing either).  It’s super-easy to make peanut butter, costs a little less than buying good store-bought, and tastes miles better than the best gourmet peanut butter you’ve ever tasted.  It’s fresher, nuttier, toastier, just better.  It takes five minutes, and kids old enough to run the food processor can easily make it by themselves.

We don’t usually measure the ingredients, but we did this time so we could share some semblance of a recipe:

• 2 cups toasted Valencia peanuts (available in bulk at most food coops, Whole Foods, and many grocery stores–organic nuts will be around three bucks a pound).  If you buy raw peanuts, toast them at 350 degrees for 20 minutes before making your PB.

• 4-7 tablespoons of peanut oil (canola works fine if you don’t have peanut oil on hand)

• Kosher salt to taste

Put the nuts in the small bowl of the food processor, fitted with the metal blade (or the blender).  Add 4 tablespoons of oil, and blend until rather smooth, though the butter will remain somewhat grainy.  If dry, add more oil, a tablespoon at a time.  You’ll probably use about 6.

Add salt to taste, but be careful–the kosher salt will make the PB taste divine, but a pinch goes a long way!

Decant into a jar, and refrigerate.  SO yummy!

For a transformative PB & J experience, try it with the Best Sandwich Bread Recipe Ever, and your favorite homemade jam.  It’s also great on apples, or straight out of the jar on a spoon (not that I would know…).

I love how pleased my daughter is to announce that her sandwich is entirely homemade.  We’ve come such a long way from the days when it was a stigma to have lovely, homemade, brown bread, because all the middle-class kids had Wonderbread.  Enjoy.