Six Seasons

Pickles: Six Seasons in a Jar

When I was a kid, the farmer down the road made a killer pickle-laden Bloody Mary mix. The grown-ups would drink the cocktails, while I fished out all the pickles and gorged on them. Whether that was the start of my pickle love affair or not, I continue to be a pickle fanatic. Now as a chef who fantasizes about being a farmer, I appreciate pickles not just for their tangy, crunchy goodness but also for their ability to stop time and capture the perfection of the season.

I want to give a nod to David Chang, for whom I worked at Momofuku in New York City. He showed me that really great pickles should not be too sharp. Low acid and always a touch of sweetness will allow you to taste the vegetable, not just the brine.

All my pickles are what are called refrigerator pickles. They are preserved and flavored by a brine, not by fermentation. The brine will keep them in good shape for quite a while, but they should stay refrigerated unless you actually process them, following good preserving practices, which you can find in the Ball Blue Book Guide to Preserving, among other sources.

I suggest you make a big batch of brine and then customize it according to the vegetables you're going to pickle at one time.

Basic Vegetable Pickle Brine

The brine will keep nicely in the fridge, so make a triple batch and be ready for sudden pickling urges.

» Makes enough for about 3 pints pickles (depending on their size and shape and the amount you stuff into the jar)

½ cup rice vinegar

1 tablespoon white wine vinegar

1½ cups hot water

5 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon kosher salt

Put everything in a pot or big pitcher and stir until the sugar and salt have dissolved.

Using clean canning jars, fill with your vegetable in a way that shows off the beauty of it, pour over the brine until the vegetables are completely covered and the jar is full, and screw on the cap. Refrigerate for up to 2 months. Start tasting after the first day to see how the flavor and texture are developing. They are ready to eat as soon as you think they are.

Season One

Spring

It sounds like a cliché, but I feel it every year—spring is miraculous. To watch as the dreary landscape, covered in frost, snow, and mud, transforms into this impossibly fresh and green new world is soul-stirring.

And spring comes just in time, right? Because as much as we love root vegetables and winter squash, after a few months, we crave tender things. Green things. Grassy, delicate vegetables that don't even need to be cooked, just plucked from the ground and enjoyed. They are never as sweet and delicious as when they first emerge from the newly warmed earth.

I'll eat raw peas by the handful or munch my way through asparagus stalks. When cooking for guests and friends, I do as little as possible to these early arrivals, usually nothing more than a light dressing with extra-virgin olive oil, some lemon or vinegar, salt, and pepper. Okay, and maybe some Parmigiano-Reggiano.

After a few weeks of reveling in pristine spring vegetables, I'm ready to bring in some heat and a few more ingredient partners. As the season progresses and the weather warms, some of the early vegetables become perhaps a touch more fibrous or starchy and therefore benefit from cooking and more creative treatments.

Recipes of Spring

Raw Artichoke Salad with Herbs, Almonds, and Parmigiano

Artichoke and Farro Salad with Salami and Herbs

Grilled Artichokes with Artichoke-Parmigiano Dip

Raw Asparagus Salad with Breadcrumbs, Walnuts, and Mint

Asparagus, Nettle, and Green Garlic Frittata

Asparagus, Garlic Chives, and Pea Shoots, with or without an Egg

Grilled Asparagus with Fava Beans and Walnuts

Vignole

English Pea Toast

English Pea and Pickled Carrot Salsa Verde

English Peas with Prosciutto and New Potatoes

Pasta Carbonara with English Peas

Couscous with English Peas, Apricots, and Lamb Meatballs

Smashed Fava Beans, Pecorino, and Mint on Toast

Fava, Farro, Pecorino, and Salami Salad

Fava and Pistachio Pesto on Pasta

Fava Beans, Cilantro, New Potatoes, and Baked Eggs

"Herbed" Butter with Warm Bread

Little Gems with Lemon Cream, Spring Onion, Radish, and Mint

Butter Lettuce with New Potatoes, Eggs, and Pancetta Vinaigrette

Bitter Greens Salad with Melted Cheese

Sautéed Greens with Olives (Misticanza)

Agrodolce Ramps on Grilled Bread

Leeks with Anchovy and Soft-Boiled Eggs

Charred Scallion Salsa Verde

Onions Three Ways, with 'Nduja on Grilled Bread

Radishes with Tonnato, Sunflower Seeds, and Lemon

Grilled Radishes with Dates, Apples, and Radish Tops

Roasted Radishes with Brown Butter, Chile, and Honey

Sugar Snap Peas with Pickled Cherries and Peanuts

Sugar Snap Peas with Mustard Seeds and Tarragon

Sugar Snap Pea and New Potato Salad with Crumbled Eggand Sardines

Pasta alla Gricia with Slivered Sugar Snap Peas

Crispy Sugar Snap Peas with Tonnato and Lemon

Artichokes

Artichokes are huge and imposing, all prickly leaves, spiny buds (the artichokes themselves), and, when not harvested in time, gorgeous purple flowers. Hand in hand with that grandeur goes the fact that artichokes are a royal pain. Steamed whole and eaten leaf by leaf, an artichoke is simple to prepare, but if you want to incorporate the succulent flesh from the base and stem into another dish, be ready to do some work. The fact that fresh artichokes require effort is part of why I love them—I make it a spring ritual.

Two crops per year. Most of the artichokes sold in the United States are grown in California and are at their peak season from March through May, but locally grown examples may arrive later in the summer. Fall usually brings a second crop, and by then I'm usually ready for another challenge. The early spring artichokes are my favorites, however, because the slow grow through a cool winter makes the base and stem grow thick and meaty.

The big green globe artichoke is what most commercial farms grow, but local farms may offer some Italian varieties, usually tinged with purple or maroon, smaller, and with more open, upright leaves. I find that Italian artichokes, such as Violetta di Chiogga, have a deeper, sweeter flavor.

From tip to bottom. Artichoke terminology can be misleading. Technically the "heart" of the artichoke is the center portion, which includes the inedible choke. But the term "artichoke heart" has come to mean an artichoke that has been trimmed and had the choke removed. The cup-shaped base of the artichoke is all meat and is delicious simply dipped in melted butter (or one of my mayonnaises) or cut away from the leaves and cooked independently. Whatever you do, don't throw it away!

Baby artichokes are misnamed as well, not being babies at all but simply small artichokes that form lower down on the plant's stalk. They are more tender, however. All artichokes will keep in the fridge for up to a week loosely wrapped in a plastic bag, but be sure they are dry before wrapping, because they are prone to mold.

Prepping the heart. Start by pulling and snapping off the darker outer leaves until you reach the pale green-yellow tender inner leaves. Slice off the top inch or so—the tender lower leaves, the saucer-shaped base, and the stem are the edible portions of the artichoke.

Take a look at the stem—some artichokes have stems of several inches, others just have a stub of a stem. In any case, the stem itself is succulent and sweet, though the outside is fibrous. If the recipe has you leave the stem on, peel the outer layers with a paring knife or vegetable peeler.

Next, with a sharp paring knife, pare away any dark green or tough leaf ends from the bottom and sides of the artichoke base. You're sort of sculpting it into a smooth form. At this point, you will either halve the artichoke lengthwise or leave it whole—follow the recipe.

Pry open the tender leaves that remain and scoop out the hairy choke from the top of the base with a spoon, slice it away with a paring knife, or use a melon baller. Rub the base all over with some lemon juice. You're now ready to move to the next step in the recipe.

Raw Artichoke Salad with Herbs, Almonds, and Parmigiano

Don't even try this salad unless you have very early artichokes, the first ones to show up in the spring markets. As with all spring vegetables, the still-cold nights help the artichoke's sugars develop for the best flavor; and because they are smaller, young artichokes are less fibrous and more tender . . . but only if you slice them very fine.

» Serves 2

2 early-season artichokes

2 lemons, halved

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

¼ teaspoon dried chile flakes

¼ cup lightly packed mint leaves

¼ cup lightly packed flat-leaf parsley leaves

¼ cup lightly packed chives cut into 2-inch lengths

¼ cup chive blossoms (if you can find them)

½ cup roughly chopped toasted almonds

15 to 20 shavings Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (shaved with a vegetable peeler)

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

Pull and snap off the darker outer leaves of the artichokes until you reach the pale green-yellow tender inner leaves. Slice off the top third of the artichoke. Trim the very end of the stem and then peel the outer layers of the stem with a paring knife or vegetable peeler. (The outer layer of the stem is super fibrous but the inner, lighter heart is sweet and succulent.)

Slice the whole artichoke in half lengthwise (don't use a carbon-steel knife, or the artichoke will discolor) and rub the whole exterior with one of the lemon halves. Scoop out the hairy choke with a spoon, or slice it away with a paring knife. Squeeze some lemon juice into the choke space.

Place an artichoke half cut side down on the work surface and slice it lengthwise as thinly as you can. If you have a mandoline slicer, this is the perfect time to use it. Repeat with the other artichoke halves.

Put the sliced artichokes in a bowl. Squeeze in the juice of the remaining 3 lemon halves (try to retrieve and discard the seeds!) and add ½ teaspoon salt, lots of twists of black pepper, the chile flakes, mint, parsley, chives, chive blossoms (if using), almonds, and Parmigiano and toss. Taste and adjust the seasoning so the salad is lively and well balanced, then drizzle with the olive oil. Toss the salad again, taste, and serve.

I call this dish the "man snack," because the salami adds a meaty edge that makes it almost like an Italian hoagie. I wish I could find a bowl of it every time I open my fridge. You could use another grain such as freekeh in this salad, but farro is dense and chewy and doesn't absorb too much dressing. You end up tasting the grain as well as the other ingredients.

» Serves 4

2 cups cooked Farro

Extra-virgin olive oil

3 ounces thinly sliced salami, cut into half- or quarter-moons

½ large red onion, very thinly sliced

White wine vinegar

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Dried chile flakes

4 poached artichoke quarters

½ cup lightly packed flat-leaf parsley leaves

½ cup lightly packed basil leaves

½ cup lightly packed mint leaves

¼ cup Dried Breadcrumbs

Drain the farro well, dump it onto a baking sheet, toss with a small glug of olive oil, and spread it out to cool.

Pile the farro, salami, and onion into a bowl and season with ¼ cup vinegar. Taste and add salt, lots of twists of black pepper, and a few chile flakes. Add the artichokes, parsley, basil, and mint. Toss, taste again, and adjust with more salt, chile flakes, or vinegar. Finish by tossing with ¼ cup olive oil and sprinkling with the breadcrumbs.

Grilled Artichokes with Artichoke-Parmigiano Dip

The dish is an example of something I love to do when I cook—doubling up to use the same ingredient in two ways. Here I grill some of the artichokes and then turn the others into the dip.

» Serves 4

3 lemons

6 medium early-season artichokes

4 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled

2 teaspoons dried chile flakes

2 tablespoons coriander seeds

3 tablespoons white wine vinegar

Kosher salt

1½ cups crème fraîche

3 or 4 dashes Tabasco sauce

¼ cup lightly packed finely sliced chives

¼ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Extra-virgin olive oil

¼ cup lightly packed roughly chopped flat-leaf parsley

Cut one of the lemons in half and cut one half into 4 wedges to serve with the artichokes. Using a rasp-style grater, zest the remaining 2 lemons and set the zest aside. Halve the zested lemons and set 2 halves aside for the dip; the remaining lemon halves are for the artichoke prep.

Trim all the artichokes and slice lengthwise into quarters. Rub the exteriors with a lemon half. Scoop out the hairy center—the choke. Squeeze some lemon juice into the choke space.

Poach the artichokes: Put 3 of the garlic cloves, the chile flakes, coriander seeds, and vinegar into a large pot (big enough to hold 2 of the trimmed artichokes). Add 2 quarts water and bring to a simmer. Once it's simmering, add 2 teaspoons salt. This is called a court bouillon, and it should taste well seasoned and like all of the ingredients in the pot. Take it off the heat and let it cool down.

Add 8 of the artichoke quarters to the court bouillon (reserve the remainder for grilling) and bring up to a simmer. Poach until they are fully tender, 10 to 15 minutes. You can check by poking the stem with the tip of a knife, like you would a potato.

Drain the artichokes well on a rack, and when they're cool enough to handle, blot with paper towels so they are quite dry.

make the dip: Very finely chop the artichokes and place them in a large bowl. Add the crème fraîche, along with half the reserved lemon zest, the juice from 2 lemon halves, the Tabasco sauce, chives, Parmigiano, and salt to taste. Taste and adjust the seasoning so that it's savory and balanced, and then whisk in ¼ cup olive oil to make the dip rich and creamy. Taste again and add more salt, Tabasco, or lemon if you like.

grill the artichokes: Heat a grill, a grill pan, or a heavy skillet over high heat. Add a slick of olive oil and the remaining garlic clove to flavor the oil (skip this if you're using an actual grill). Lay the remaining 16 artichoke quarters in the pan and grill on all sides until nicely browned and starting to crisp around the edges, about 10 minutes total. You may need to do this in batches or in two pans.

Transfer the grilled artichoke quarters to a platter, shower with the parsley, the rest of the lemon zest, and a drizzle of olive oil. Serve warm or at room temperature with the artichoke dip and lemon wedges for squeezing.

Asparagus

Once asparagus starts showing up at your farmers' market, you know winter is officially over. Hallelujah. And though you likely don't need much prodding to load up on those tender green stalks, keep in mind that asparagus really does have a short window of seasonality. While you may find imported asparagus in your grocery store year-round, local asparagus cannot be coaxed to grow beyond six weeks or so—all the more reason to cherish it.

Prep. Asparagus is an obliging vegetable that doesn't need much prep at all. The one thing you need to do is remove the lower portion of the stalk, which is usually very fibrous and no fun to eat. Some people like to bend the stalk and let it snap at the natural spot where it goes from fibrous to succulent. A quicker way to do that is to choose one stalk from the bunch, bend it until it snaps at that sweet spot, and then line up the rest of the stalks and simply cut them at about the same point.

Size doesn't matter. You should choose your asparagus by how crisp and juicy it is, not by how thin or thick. Thinner spears are not necessarily more tender or less fibrous than big fat spears, they are simply skinny. An asparagus plant will produce thin, medium, and thick spears at the same time; spear diameter doesn't relate to age. Whatever size you prefer, look for tightly closed tips and cut ends that don't look too dried out or woody. I cook with green and purple varieties; their flavors will be the same, so it's a matter of color. I love mixing purple and green in a salad of thinly sliced asparagus to get a jumble of colors on the plate. Store your asparagus in a loosely closed plastic bag in the refrigerator and use it pronto, especially if you're going to serve it raw.

Try them raw. When you're ready to cook with it . . . don't. Honestly, if you can get first-of-the-season asparagus, forgo cooking and serve it raw, very thinly sliced on an angle (see opposite). The juicy-crisp texture and sweet grassy flavor are spring turned into a mouthful, and you should experience it while you can. Once my initial crush on asparagus has faded a bit, I'll cook it a number of ways: pan-steaming, roasting, grilling, or incorporating into other dishes. The only wrong way to cook it is to overcook it. Mushy asparagus is a sin.

Raw Asparagus Salad with Breadcrumbs, Walnuts, and Mint

Make this dish before you do any cooked asparagus dishes, at the start of the season when you get pristine spears. At first glance, the dish looks kind of "meh," but once you taste it, the flavor and texture blow you away. Be sure to cut the asparagus very thin.

» Serves 4

⅓ cup Dried Breadcrumbs