This was a hearty vegetarian soup I tried last night, inspired by this recipe spotted on Gojee, albeit with quite a few changes in ingredients and cooking time (and a much less pretty photo). It was simple to toss together and perfect for a cool evening.

2 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 – 4 cloves garlic, minced
3 medium waxy potatoes, peeled and chopped
1 large bunch spinach, washed and coarsely chopped
1 cup red lentils
6 carrots, chopped
1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed well
4 cups vegetable broth
1 tbsp tomato paste
3 tsp curry
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp salt
big pinch of black pepper

In a soup pot, saute the onions in the oil for several minutes on medium-low heat and then add in the garlic, potatoes, and carrots. Saute, stirring occasionally, for another 10 to 15 minutes. Then add all of the other ingredients except for the spinach. Bring to a boil and then let simmer for 30 to 40 minutes. Taste for salt and pepper, and add more curry or cayenne if you want a stronger or hotter flavor. Add the spinach and cook for another 10 to 15 minutes. Serve with some yogurt and potentially some fresh cilantro.

OK, shameless plug complete! Let’s talk about this dish, which was a tad involved but oh so good.  Hearty vegetarian fare, although suited for a cooler evening.  It is inspired by Alice Waters’ Chard Gratin.  I just turned it into a meal. It has been a few weeks, but here is my best recollection of the dish:

Chard and Cranberry Bean Gratin

Large bunch of chard, leaves and stems separated
1 onion, diced
2 or 3 carrots, diced
1 stalk of celery, diced
1/2 lb of cranberry or borlotti beans
1 tsp fresh winter savory, finely chopped
salt and pepper
4 tbsp unsalted butter
3 tsp flour
3/4 to 1 cup milk
1 cup fresh breadcrumbs

I was working with dried cranberry beans. Put them in a pot with water an inch over the top of the beans, tossed in a couple bay leaves, brought to a boil for a couple minutes, then let simmer until just tender (time will depend on whether you soaked beforehand). Save 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid and drain the rest.

Make breadcrumbs by placing stale or fresh bread in a food processor. Spread them out on a baking tray, dot with pieces from 1 tbsp of butter, and toast in a 350F oven until lightly golden.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and cook the chard leaves for about 3 minutes, then remove with a slotted spoon and let them drain and cool.  Dice the chard stems and cook them in the boiling water for 5 minutes, then drain.

Melt 2 tbsp of butter in a large (ideally oven-capable) skillet and saute the onions on low heat until translucent.  Add the carrot and celery and continue to cook for 10 minutes.

Add the beans and the bean liquid and/or some white wine, and continue to let it simmer (turn up the heat a tad, if necessary), stirring occasionally.

Squeeze much of the excess liquid out of the chard leaves and coarsely chop them.  Add the chard stems and chard leaves to the skillet.  Add the winter savory (Note: I think oregano or tarragon would also work).  Let simmer for a few minutes.

Sprinkle and stir in the flour, then stir in the milk.  Cook for 5 more minutes, adding more milk if the mixture gets too thick. Add salt and pepper to taste.

If you are not using an oven-friendly skillet, transfer to a baking dish.  Spread the breadcrumbs on top, dot with bits from the last tbsp of butter, and bake for 30 to 40 minutes in the 350F oven.

1 head of cauliflower
1 large fennel bulb
2 or 3 medium potatoes
2 tbsp butter
heavy cream
salt and pepper

Cut the fennel bulb into eighths (halve, halve again, halve again), and chop the cauliflower into similar sized pieces. Peel and quarter the potatoes.  Fill a large pot with about 1/2 inch of water (so the vegetables are not totally immersed) and bring to a boil.  Toss in the potatoes first, then everything else, cover so the steam is captured, and keep on a light boil until tender.  Drain.

In batches, spoon the vegetables into a food processor and puree (you will probably need to pulse, stir and push the fennel pieces down so they get fully pureed), and then spoon each batch of puree into a large bowl.  Once you have everything pureed, add the butter, salt, pepper, and heavy cream to taste.  Note: I usually make my mash potatoes with milk, not cream, but think the cream really works here.

This was a wonderful side dish, and I can see it being used as a nice base for either a hearty fish or chicken breasts.  I’m imagining lots and lots of mushrooms…

This vegetarian stew was completely winged tonight but I ran with the concept of trying to heighten each flavor first, and then bring things together. I loved how it came out. The idea of the turnip puree came from Kevin on Top Chef last season and I loved it — was almost like coconut milk.  It reminded another person of a chicken pot pie.  I loved how the puree thickened the meal into a great comfort dish without the need for flour.

This was a big hit so I thought I should write down my best memory of the process while it was fresh in my mind.  The amounts below are kind of rough, but it’s stew — nothing needs to be exact here!

3 tbsp unsalted butter
1/2 cup cream
1/4 tsp sugar
2 medium/large turnips, peeled and roughly chopped
1 large sweet onion, chopped
4 or 5 garlic cloves, minced
1 lb white mushrooms, halved and sliced
1/2 lb shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and sliced
3 celery stalks, finely chopped
2 cans of chickpeas (or equivalent dried and cooked)
6 to 8 stalks of kale, stemmed and roughly chopped
5 or 6 small red potatoes
1 cup white wine or vermouth
1 tbsp apple cider vinegar
2 tbsp fresh oregano, finely chopped (or half as much dried)
1 to 2 tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped
pinch of hot red pepper flakes
salt and pepper to taste

Stage 1: cooking the separate ingredients
A. In a large pot, saute the onions and garlic in a touch of olive oil and 1 tbsp of butter, and let slowly cook on low heat for 15 minutes. Add the celery and a couple pinches of salt and continue to cook.

B. Place the turnips, 1/2 cup of cream, and 1/2 cup of water in a pot and simmer until the turnips are soft

C. Melt 2 tbsp of butter in a saute pan and cook the mushrooms, with a couple pinches of salt, for 15-20 minutes. Add 1 tbsp of apple cider vinegar near the end.

Stage 2: the rest!
Pour 1/2 cup of vermouth (or white wine) into the pot with the onions and celery and let it cook down a bit, then add in the kale.  Cover and let simmer for several minutes.  Once the kale has initially softened, add in the cooked mushrooms and the chickpeas, oregano, parsley. Add another 1/2 cup of vermouth and 1 cup of water and continue to cook.

Place the turnips, with the cooking liquid, in a food processor and let cool.  At this point, I rinsed out this pot, brought water to boil, and boiled the potatoes for 10 to 15 minutes to soften.

Puree the turnip and cream, and add 1/4 tsp of sugar.  Gently stir the puree into the stew, add the pepper flakes and a couple pinches worth of freshly ground black pepper, and add the potatoes when they are done.

Cook the stew for a while longer on very low heat until you are happy the flavors have all come together.  Add some water if it feels too thick.  Taste for salt and pepper.

I’ve been reading Julia Child’s My Life in France and the difficulties she faced trying to publish Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  In 1959, when Houghton Mifflin finally passed on the book, and before Knopf picked it up, Julia read a note from her champion at Houghton who explained the rejection, “They feel [the average housewife] wants ’shortcuts to something equivalent’ instead of the perfect process to the absolute.”

America’s culture has changed a lot since then, but anyone who reads Simone de Beauvoir’s 1947 America Day by Day will be struck by how much has remained consistent.  The business instincts of the Houghton execs remains somewhat true today if Rachel Ray’s empire is any evidence.  Thankfully, there is room for more ambitious efforts, as Julia Child and Simone Beck proved and as new author/chefs continue to show; a recent example is Paul Bertolli’s almost literary Cooking by Hand.

Ratatouille strikes me as a perfect dish to highlight the merits of the two mindsets (and there are indeed merits to both).  Sometimes I will throw together a ratatouille very quickly, let all the components stew together for a while unaided, and enjoy a perfectly good rendition.  However, with a little more effort and time, you can take the dish to a different level entirely.

On Friday evening, after picking up some lovely fresh vegetables from the local farm, I rolled up my sleeves and put together an adaptation of Lulu Peyraud’s ratatouille from Richard Olney’s cookbook Lulu’s Provencal Table. It is considerably more involved than my usual, but the result, which we ate the next evening, was the sweetest, most delicious ratatouille I have had in a long while.

Ratatouille, adapted from Richard Olney and Lulu Peyraud’s recipe

1 lb vidalia onion, halved then thinly sliced
6 garlic cloves, lightly crushed, peeled and minced
1 lb zucchini, preferably small to medium sized, quartered and cut into 3/4 inch pieces
1 lb young eggplant, preferably Asian/Japanese (unless you are French), halved if large, and cut into 3/4 inch rounds
1 lb plum tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and cut into eighths
3 large sweet peppers (a mix of colors is nice; I used 2 red, 1 green), treatment below
Bouquet garni of 2 small sprigs each of oregano and winter savory, and 2 bay leaves, tied with kitchen string
salt
olive oil

In a large pot, warm up 3 tbsp of olive oil on very low heat and slowly cook the onions for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add 1 tsp of salt (I like cooking with kosher salt), the minced garlic, and the sliced zucchini. Continue to cook on the low heat, stirring occasionally.

While your onions cook, peel and de-seed the tomatoes. To peel the tomatoes, score an X in the skin on the bottom of the tomato, and place in boiling water for 30 seconds.  Let cool, and the skin should slip off quite easily.  Slice in half (if the tomato was the earth, and the stem is the north pole, cut at the equator) and use a finger to remove most of the seeds.  Chop each tomato into 8 chunks and reserve.

Char your sweet peppers under the boiler, on the grill, or directly on a gas flame (Lulu’s method is to char over wood embers, but not everyone has that luxury).  Place the peppers in a paper bag and let cool for several minutes.  Peel of the charred skins, and de-seed, being careful to preserve the juices from the inside of the peppers.  Reserve those juices (sans seeds), and slice the peppers lengthwise into narrow strips; reserve.

In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet, heat up 2 tbsp of olive oil on medium heat. Saute the eggplant rounds (or pieces) on one side for a couple of minutes, sprinkling half a teaspoon of salt on top, then add another 1 or 2 tbsp of olive oil and flip the eggplant and cook the other side for several minutes until they are softened.  I add the oil in two steps so that one side of the eggplant doesn’t absorb it all. Add the eggplant to the stew pot with the onions, leaving remaining oil in the skillet.

If the skillet is fairly dry, add another tbsp of olive oil, get the pan fairly hot with high heat, and then add the tomatoes and half a teaspoon of salt. Saute, shaking the pan and stirring the tomatoes until much of the liquid has evaporated, but before the tomatoes disintegrate.  Empty the skillet into the stew pot.

Add the peppers and the reserved juices, and immerse the bouquet garnis.

Cook at a low simmer, uncovered, for 2 hours stirring occasionally and lowering the heat as the liquid reduces. Cook until all the excess liquid has evaporated and the vegetables are covered in a syrupy sauce.

Remove from the heat, taste for salt and stir in a little pepper. Let cool, and then refridgerate overnight.  Let the ratatouille come to room temperature the next day before serving.

Additional Lulu ideas: stir in some pitted black olives, some diced celery, and/or some more olive oil right before serving.

Homemade ravioli, stuffed with shiitake mushrooms, chard stems, shallots, pine nuts, parsley and parmesan, made from fresh beet-leaf pasta, served with a dashi-mushroom broth with watercress, scallion greens, and shimeji mushrooms.

That’s a mouthful to say, but was an absolute delight to eat.  It was also my first attempt to make up an Asian-European fusion dish, and emerged out of my need to give the old creative cooking juices a swift kick in the pants.  For the last few months, I poured my energy into a startup project, but unfortunately it became clear that the necessary funding resources were not going to emerge. Creative cooking took a back seat, but last night’s meal was its way of pounding a fist on the table and crying “my turn, dammit!” I was quite proud of the results, if I can say so myself.

I’ve been a fan of fusion since it burst on the New York City restaurant scene in the mid-nineties (flashback to an incredible dinner with Aun, my then-roommate and now the author of the marvelous blog Chubby Hubby, with a Japanese-Italian pasta-and-squid-ink dish served in a bowl made from a huge cheese rind. I love me some cheese!).

With the arrival of my pasta machine (recommended by Zenchef, and after using it last night, I love it!), I decided that I wanted to serve ravioli with a Japanese broth. This led to cracking open Kimiko Barber’s The Japanese Kitchen, which has been waiting to be read for the last 6 months, and a hop down to the Japanese grocery store in Harrison, NY.  This is a fairly involved meal, so with no further ado:

Shiitake, Chard Ravioli in Dashi Broth with Watercress and Shimeji Mushrooms
serves 4 people

- Niban Dashi Broth – (from Kimiko Barber’s The Japanese Kitchen)
4 cups water
1 piece of dried konbu (kelp), roughly 4×6 inches
handful of bonito flakes (katsuo-bushi)

- Mushroom Broth -
4 cups water
2 celery stalks
2 carrots, peeled
1 medium yellow onion, peeled
1 tbsp dried porcini mushrooms
handful of fresh white mushrooms
several stalks of parsley

- Ravioli Filling -
2 shallots, finely chopped
2 or 3 large shiitake mushrooms, finely chopped
5 thin chard stems (or 2 thick stems, sliced lengthwise), finely chopped
1 tbsp pine nuts, finely chopped
2 tbsp parmesan cheese, finely grated
2 chard leaves, finely chopped
handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped
salt
mushroom broth

- Beet Leaf Pasta for Ravioli -
1 bunch of beet leaves (or chard leaves)
2 large eggs
1.5 cups of unbleached all purpose flour

- Final Broth -
All of the dashi broth from above
1 cup of the mushroom broth
2.5 tbsp dark soy sauce
2 tbsp mirin sauce
pinch of salt to taste
1 bunch of buna shimeji mushrooms, trimmed
handful of fresh watercress leaves
greens from 2 scallions (spring onions), sliced at an angle

Making the Dashi broth
Place the water, konbu, and bonito flakes in a saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Once the water is boiling, reduce the heat to low and cook for another 5 minutes. Pour the broth through a strainer lined with a paper towel and set aside.

Making the Mushroom broth
Combine the ingredients in a stockpot, cover, and bring to a boil. Loosen the cover and let simmer for an hour or two. Discard the vegetables, pour the broth through a strainer lined with a paper towel and set aside.

Making the Filling
Heat up a few dashes of olive oil in a large saute pan on medium-low heat, and saute the shallots for several minutes, then add the shiitake mushrooms and chard stems and cook for several more minutes. Stir in the finely chopped chard leaves and parsley. As the vegetables start to dry in the pan (you will feel them start to stick to the bottom of the pan), stir in a ladle of the mushroom broth. When the broth has cooked down, add another ladle-ful. Add in the finely chopped pine nuts, turn the heat all the way down, and cook, covered, for a couple more minutes. Turn off the heat, stir in the cheese, taste for salt, and let cool.

Making the Ravioli
Boil the beet (or chard) leaves for 4 minutes, drain, let cool, and then squeeze out as much of the liquid as you can. Very finely chop.

Either on a work surface or in a bowl, combine the flour, egg, and chopped beet leaves, and work together with your hands until it is fully integrated. Add small amounts of flour until the mass no longer feels moist or sticky. Marcella Hazan has a simple test to see if you need more flour: “wash your hands, dry them… press your thumb deep into center of the mass; if it comes out clean, without any sticky matter it, no more flour is needed.”

Knead the dough for 8 minutes on a dry work surface: steady the dough with one hand, and push down and forward with the heel of the palm of your other hand. Fold the now-stretched dough back in half, give it a half turn (always in the same direction), and repeat.

Cut off one sixth of the dough (Marcella says that “the pieces of dough you end up with for thinning should be three times as many as the eggs you used“), and keep the rest of the dough wrapped in plastic wrap. Thin the dough, and start working it through the pasta machine from the widest setting until you are happy with the thickness (I went to setting 8). The strip of pasta should be about 3 to 4 inches wide.

Cut the strip in half, and place small mounds of the filling about 2.5 inches apart. With a pastry brush and a bowl of water, gently moisten the pasta around the filling, and then place the second half of the pasta strip on top and press around the filling. The water helps create the seal. Then with a knife or pasta cutter, trim the pieces of ravioli and place on a dry, clean kitchen towel.

Repeat these steps until you have made all the raviolis.

Finishing the Dish
Bring a large pot of salted water to boil, for cooking the ravioli. Place the reserved dashi broth in a saucepan and add a cup of the mushroom broth, the soy sauce, the mirin, and a small pinch of salt. Bring it to a simmer.

Place the ravioli in the boiling water and cook for 5 minutes. At the same time, place the chopped scallions and the shimeji mushrooms in the simmering broth, and cook for 4 minutes. Lay out your bowls for plating and place a bunch of watercress leaves at the bottom of each bowl. During that last minute before the ravioli is ready, ladle out a little broth and half of the scallions and shimeji mushrooms at the bottom of each bowl. With a slotted spoon, distribute the ravioli among your waiting bowls, and then top off each bowl with the broth and remainder of the scallions and mushrooms.

Serve and enjoy! I paired this with Sapporo beer.

Dessert
For dessert, we made a blackberry and raspberry version of Food Blogga’s sour cream version of the raspberry cake from Gourmet many people have tried this summer (including us). I think I liked Susan’s sour cream version better than the buttermilk. Topped with some lightly sugared whipped cream, it was absolutely delicious.

There’s an old saying, “if you can’t beat em, join em.”  It applies quite aptly to summertime heat and a good, fresh salsa don’t you think?

My current favorite method of salsa making is about as simple as it gets, and just relies on fresh ingredients.

Fresh Salsa
6 medium tomatillos, diced
2 large ripe tomatoes, diced
1 red onion, diced
5 or 6 spring onions, finely chopped (use all the green)
1 green pepper, diced
1 red pepper, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 to 3 fresh jalapenos, minced (add heat to personal taste; can also use cayenne or serrano)
juice of 1 to 2 limes, to taste
large bunch of cilantro, chopped
1 tbsp rice vinegar (or to taste)
salt and pepper to taste

Just chop everything up and combine in a bowl.  Serve with some tortilla chips, or toast some bread with a little olive oil for a simple bruschetta, or serve as a garnish alongside a well-seasoned and grilled flank steak.

Don’t forget the beer.

Today Lisl had some friends from her choir over for lunch, and this went over quite well (we also had a hit with a black-eyed pea salad that was sort of a combination of this and this).

Below the fold, I’m attaching a few more photos from our recent trip up to the Catskills.

My predilection for comfort dishes means that gratins, bechamel and cheese are recurring themes, but before I begin, forgive me a small rant: there is a fine line between a dish that is richly delicious, and one that is so packed with cream and butter that you can barely eat a second bite.  Too many restaurants err on the wrong side of that line.

I remember reading the author of Cooking School Confidential write about learning the optimal way to prep potatoes for mashing in order to get as much butter into them as possible.  My first reaction was “interesting” and my second was “maybe this is why I never like the mashed potatoes in restaurants.”

It reminds me of watching Anne Burrell explain, as she grabbed a huge handful of salt, how restaurant food is tasty because it is “better seasoned.”  And I thought, “is that a euphamism for salty?”  It is true that many tentative home cooks under-salt in the cooking process, but at least guests have a chance to rectify that.  I find American Italian restaurants to be the worst offenders of over-salting.

This isn’t just about health, although that is relevant to this topic, but just the observation that more is not always better.  I understand a restaurant’s desire to exude luxury, but you shouldn’t need a red wine strong enough to punch you in the jaw to make it through more than a few bites of a dish.

Now isn’t that a marvelously hypocritical way to introduce a dish with bechamel (one with more butter than flour even!) and cheese?!  This dish is not something I would eat every night, but it was utterly delicious and while it went right smack up to the aforementioned line, it stayed just on the right side.

I’d quip that I ate my hypocrisy most happily, but perhaps the serious  analysis is that the term “too rich” is subjectively like what the judge said about pornography: “I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.”

Cauliflower and Fennel Gratin

Bechamel
4 tbsp unsalted butter
3 tbsp flour
2 cups milk
1/4 tsp salt

Gratin
a head of cauliflower
1 large fennel bulb, including fronds
2/3 cup grated gruyere or comte cheese
2 or 3 thick slices of country bread
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
salt and pepper
2 tbsp butter

Making the Bechamel
Heat the milk up to a simmer and then turn off the heat.  Melt the butter on low heat in a medium sauce pan, then add the flour and cook for 2 minutes, constantly stirring the flour into the butter. Add a small amount of milk (about 2 tbsp worth) and stir in. Repeat two or three times.  At this point stir in the rest of the milk in 1/2 cup amounts, stirring constantly.  You can turn up the heat a smidgen, and keep on stirring regularly until the sauce thickens to the consistency of heavy cream.  Turn off the heat.

Prepping the Gratin

Make the breadcrumbs by ripping the bread into smaller pieces and pulsing in a food processor.  Spread out on a baking tray. Butter a baking dish (separate from the tray) for the gratin with the 2 tbsp, and then chop up and scatter the remaining butter over the bread crumbs in the baking tray.

Turn on the broiler and cook the breadcrumbs on the lowest rack (or set oven to a lower heat) until they are just turning golden. Remove from the oven and stir the breadcrumbs around. Reserve.

Cut off the tops of the fennel bulb, slice off a thin piece of the bottom, and discard the outer layer if really tough.  Save and finely chop the fine fennel fronds from the tops.  Cut the bulb in half and then slice into 1/2 inch thick pieces.  Cut or break the cauliflower into bite-size florets.

Scatter the fennel and cauliflower around the baking dish — you want enough vegetables to fill the dish.  Drizzle a little olive oil on top, sprinkle some coarse salt around, and mix the vegetables with two spoons.  Place under the broiler near the top of the oven for a short period to lightly brown the tops of the vegetables (keep an eye on this and do not let it burn).

Remove from the oven and turn the heat down to 350F.  Grind some fresh pepper on top and mix the vegetables again.  Cover the fennel and cauliflower with the bechamel, then sprinkle the cheese on top, and then the breadcrumbs.  Sprinkle the nutmeg and the chopped fennel fronds on top (no more than a tbsp of the fennel fronds).  Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, until golden on top.

Every once in a while, you read amusing stories about the tension and strife that ensue when cooking in your mother’s kitchen. The hovering. The unsought advice. The skeptical brow. Unfortunately for you, dear reader, I have no such stories from this recent dinner. In the making of this ramp and mushroom risotto, I had free reign. Perhaps it is because I am male, or perhaps it is simply the nature of my mom, but there was no drama to rivet this tale.

I think we got most of the mother-child conflict out of our systems when I was in high school and needed heavy pushing to study and get into a good college. Her obstinate determination at that task exceeded even my own innate and not-insubstantial stubbornness. In the end, her mission was accomplished, for which I am eternally grateful.

Turning the tables and making her a great meal is the least I can do. This risotto, while not innovative in the slightest, was particularly good for three reasons: a homemade vegetable broth made with patience, the use of the last of my ramps, and a mix of porcini, shiitake and oyster mushrooms.

Ramp and Mushroom Risotto

Vegetable Broth
1 1/2 sweet or yellow spanish onions, quartered
4 carrots, peeled
3 celery stalks, halved to fit in the pot
handful of dried porcini mushrooms
4 garlic cloves, un-peeled
bouquet garni: large bunch of parsley, 2 bay leaves, and thyme sprigs, tied with kitchen string
12 cups of water

Risotto
1 lb arborio rice
1/2 sweet onion, finely chopped
20 small ramps, white stems thinly sliced and greens chopped (keep them separate)
handful of dried porcini mushrooms (treatment below)
2 large handfuls of shiitake mushrooms, chopped
2 handfuls of oyster mushrooms, chopped
4 tbsp unsalted butter
splash of olive oil
1/2 dry vermouth (or dry white wine)
8 cups of broth (see above)
salt and pepper
1/3 cup pecorino cheese, finely grated
1 1/2 tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped

Make the broth early in the day or on a previous day by combining all the ingredients, bringing to a boil, and then immediately reducing to a very gentle simmer. Cook for 5 or 6 hours, discard the vegetables, and strain the broth through a fine strainer.

Take another handful of dried porcini mushrooms and soak in boiling water for 15 to 20 minutes before starting the next step. Add most of the soaking liquid to the broth, but discard the last bit with the sediment from the mushrooms. Remove any hard parts still on the mushrooms and chop.

Bring the broth to a boil, reduce to the lowest heat and keep covered. Prep your pecorino cheese and parsley at this point.

In a large, heavy-bottomed pot (or high-sided saucepan), melt the butter and olive oil on medium heat. Add in the onion and chopped white stems from the ramps and saute for several minutes. Stir in the 3 types of mushrooms and continue to saute for 5 to 10 minutes.

Stir in the rice and cook for several minutes, stirring well.  Turn up the heat to just above medium. Add in the vermouth, and stir it into the risotto, and then add a ladle full of broth. Stir until the liquid is mostly absorbed by the risotto. Add another two ladles of broth and then repeat the stirring process, the addition of liquid, the stirring, etc. Do not let the risotto dry out at any point, and do not add so much broth at any point that you flood the pot.

After 20 minutes, add in 1/8 tsp of salt, some freshly ground pepper, and stir in the ramp greens.

Cook for another 5 minutes and begin tasting for tenderness and salt and pepper. You want the risotto to be tender but not mush. It will probably take between 7 and 8 cups of the broth, and be done somewhere between 25 and 35 minutes.

Remove the pot from the heat, and stir in most of the pecorino cheese and fall of the fresh parsley.* Plate and sprinkle the last of the pecorino on top, along with some ground pepper.

*save the parsley until the very end, because uncooked it adds a nice fresh flavor and texture to the dish.

Note: some argue that you do not need to continually stir risotto, but I like the results that arise from the extra diligence.

- – -

I’ll depart with a little taste of most-welcome spring:

Previous Risotto Posts:
Fennel Risotto

Chard Leaves Stuffed with Mushroom Risotto

Easter Sunday was a bit unusual for me this year.  I spent the morning with family, but ever-patient Lisl gave me special dispensation to spend the afternoon tromping around the woods with a bunch of other food bloggers collecting wild ramps, fiddleheads, stinging nettles, wild garlic, and more.  This outing was organized by Marc of No Recipes (who has a full write-up of the event and resulting menu on his blog, along with some great photos) and Jonathan of Lab 24/7.

(Clockwise from top-left: ramps; stinging nettles; fiddleheads; non-edible but pretty flowers)

I now understand the special appreciation people have for ramps.  Douse them in olive oil and sea salt and toss under the broiler for a few moments, and the results will make you go weak in the knees.  Since Sunday, I have also eaten pickled ramps, sauteed ramps with the drippings from a roast chicken, made ramp fritters (recipe below), and later this week will be making a ramp risotto.  One has to strike when the iron is hot!

Unfortunately, with a newborn at home, I was not able to partake in the amazing feast put on by Marc and crew (with the talents of Stephane from Zen Can Cook and Claire from Colloquial Cooking), so I am not able to speak to the taste of fiddleheads and stinging nettles, but at least I am now armed with the knowledge to forage such things in future!  I had a great time, however, and spending time in the kitchen with that team prepping the meal was a blast.  Now, I had mentioned ramp fritters had I not?

Ramp Fritters

Tonight’s recipe combines Richard Olney’s fritter batter with ramps, zucchini, parsley, and lemon. Beating the egg whites makes these feel quite light and decadent for something fried, and it is a technique I will use more often in future.

Fritter Batter
from Richard Olney’s Simple French Food
3/4 cup flour
2 eggs, separated with whites set aside
3/4 cup beer (I used Bass pale ale)
2 tbsp olive oil
1/4 tsp salt

Fritter mixture
15 small to medium ramps, cleaned (treatment below)
2 zucchini, peeled and grated
2 tbsp finely chopped parsley
1 stem of wild garlic or a small garlic clove, finely minced
salt and pepper
juice from half a lemon
splash of olive oil

First create the base of the batter by combining the flour, egg yolks, beer, olive oil and salt in a bowl and whisk just enough to blend everything together smoothly.  Let rest for at least an hour, which according to Olney helps it better coat the items to be fried (this can be skipped given this recipe’s particular approach, but I did it anyway).

In a colander, thoroughly squeeze the moisture out of the grated zucchini with your hands.  Place in a bowl.  Finely chop the stems of the ramps, chop a fine chiffonade of the leaves, and add to the bowl.  Stir in the garlic, lemon juice, olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Let this rest as well while the batter sits.

Beat the egg whites until the peaks hold, and fold them into the batter.  Gently stir the vegetables into the batter.

Heat up some olive oil (or a mixture or olive oil and vegetable/canola oil) in a large cast iron pan on medium-high heat, enough to well-coat the surface of the pan.  When a drop of water jumps and sizzles in the pan, you are ready.  With a decent-size soup spoon, place spoonfuls of batter around the pan, being careful not to overcrowd or let fritters touch each other.  Cook until golden brown on both sides, then remove to a drying rack or a plate with paper towel.

Serve with some fresh lemon juice and taste for salt and pepper. While I was not able to test this tonight, I also suspect that crème fraiche in addition to the lemon would make a wonderful complement to the fritters (a combination Marc used to good effect with the amuse bouche shortbreads he made).

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I’m going to leave you with a shot of Stephane’s pickled ramps, which were heavenly, as an unsubtle attempt to peer-pressure him into blogging the spice ratios. These were so quickly devoured that they had to be hidden to save some for the evening’s pork belly dish. They also contributed to a killer martini.

Update: Liz from the Zested blog (wonderful photography), who I met that day, beat Stephane in getting the pickling recipe up. Check it out!