OmniVeggie

The doldrums, people. I have them. Everyone I know gets them, usually in those long, cold or dreary winter months. I can count on Matthias to have them in December, my parents get theirs in January, my sister Abbie's arrive a little earlier during March, but mine commence shortly after. March, April, and May you are going to be the death of me.

East coasters, am I wrong? Does it not feel like forever since you felt the sun on your face for more than two hours at a time on two consecutive days? Last year when I came to New York at the beginning of May from perpetually foggy, damp, and drizzly Vancouver, I cannot remember wearing anything but sundresses and cardigans, and learning quickly about the evils of iced coffee. Now, I am sitting at my desk typing with one hand to keep my other warm with my third cup of tea.



We have tried several cures for this unbreakable spell of gray doom that has settled on my mind and my heart. (One involved wayyyy too much bourbon in the form of mint juleps; fun, but not exactly responsible). But, only two have really worked. On Saturday we braved the Union Square Greenmarket and were rewarded with ramps, wild asparagus, French radishes, the freshest of eggs, and bacon. We wanted to have the vegetable feast on Sunday, but we accidentally got too full on french toast for breakfast. Monday came, windy and fickle, and by dinner we ditched ramps and asparagus with crusty bread for a much warmer chana masala. Yesterday, not to be deterred any longer by my doldrums, we forced our plates into spring. We made mushrooms, and ramps, and shallots, and it was glorious.

And tonight, rain showers be damned, I shook my fist at the slate-colored skies and said, 'I have been dreaming of that Georgian cheese bread from May's Gourmet and it is high time we indulged in it.' Also, about that asparagus, we decided to roast instead of steam and dress with a vinaigrette, because everyone knows that roasting is what you do to food in the winter, and what you do as a person in the summer. Since it was clearly closer to the former outside, we extracted the fullest, richest flavor from that beautiful wild asparagus and subsequently stuck our tongues out at the raindrops. Because, at this point, maturity is futile. I am one raindrop away from a fed-up-with-'spring'-tantrum.



Seriously, I love green vegetables, but the bread helped more. It is squishy and its chewiness makes your teeth feel so very useful, and its perfectly salty cheese, rich with egg and yeast makes your tongue feel jubilant and at the end your tummy will feel all warm.



Cross my heart and kiss my elbow.

Khachapuri (Georgian Cheese Bread)
Gourmet, May 2008
(Adapted from Natia Gigani, Caucasus Travel Ltd., Republic Of Georgia)

This is the silkiest, loveliest dough to 'punch down' every hour of the rise. It seems a shame to use such violent words on such a smooth, innocent ball, but words will fail you too after you have eaten it. Just be sure to squeeze as hard as you can to get the water out of that ball of cheeses, as both are quite moist.

Ingredients

2.25 teaspoons active dry yeast (a 1/4-oz package)
7 tablespoons warm water (105–115°F)
1.6 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, divided

Turn out dough onto a well-floured surface and turn to coat with flour, then knead until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. Form into a ball and dust with flour. Let dough rest in a bowl, covered with plastic wrap, punching down with a wet fist every hour, at least 2 hours and up to 3.

Preheat oven to 500°F with rack in middle.

Turn out dough onto floured pizza pan, turning to coat, then flatten with your fingers into a 7-inch disk.

Toss together cheeses and press into a compact 3-inch ball with your hands. Place ball in middle of dough, then gather dough up around ball of cheese, squeezing excess dough into a topknot. Press down on topknot with a damp fist to press cheese out from center. Continue to flatten dough and distribute cheese evenly, pressing outward from center, until dough is an 11-inch disk.

Cut a 6-inch X through top of dough to expose cheese. Bake until pale golden, 10 to 12 minutes.

Brush surface of dough with butter and bake until golden and cooked through, 3 to 5 minutes more.

Serve cut into wedges.




or you could just drink these:

I returned to the city to find Matthias happy, but in a conglomerated meat and hyper-processed potato stupor. He said to me, 'Hannah, maybe we could have a giant salad for supper.' Having had a lovely weekend at home, filled with delicious food, and even better wine, I wasn't feeling quite as poisoned (plus, before I went to the airport I had a salad for lunch with my mom. Don't get me wrong, I love salad, but they aren't exactly the sort of thing you crave twice a day in the dead of February). So, I suggested sushi and Matthias was thusly rerouted on the road to civilized eating.

Now, please do understand that I am not a bossy girl. I am not a vigilante vegetarian. I have spoken my peace about the animal industry and I generally refrain from climbing repeatedly onto my soapbox (usually people get the speech once and once only). So, you should note that the meals below were ingested by free will and with gustatory delight.

Almost-But-Not-Quite Spring Frittata
yield: 2 servings



Ingredients
4 organic free-range eggs
2 tbsp. milk
2 medium leeks
5-7 asparagus stalks
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp. olive oil
1 tbsp. butter
1 tsp fresh thyme, chopped
1 tsp fresh tarragon, finely chopped
1/4 cup parmesean cheese, finely grated
salt and pepper to taste

Using the whites of the leeks, split them down the center and rinse thoroughly under cold water, running your fingers through the layers gently to remove all of the sand. Slice thinly. Also, now would be a good time to chop your asparagus into about 1” pieces.

Sauté leeks and garlic in 2 tsp. olive oil (or butter, for a sweeter flavor) for about 5-7 minutes, or until slightly wilted and fragrant.

While your vegetables are cooking down, wisk eggs and milk until slightly frothy. Grease a 10” cake pan with your pat of butter (if we had a tart pan, or a springform, or hell, even a pie pan we would have used it. So, if you are in a kitchen better outfitted than ours, please, by all means, feel free to take advantage of it). You won’t use the whole tablespoon for non-stick purposes, so just tear the leftover piece into little pea-sized bits and distribute them sporadically on the bottom of the pan so that they can soak into the egg/vegetable mixture and make it rich and lovely.

Pour your egg and milk mixture into the pan. Add the asparagus, leeks, garlic, herbs, and cheese. Bake at 350 for about 20 minutes, or until the asparagus is bright green and started to brown at the tips and the eggs are sufficiently set.

We had this with some rye toast and jam. Matthias had some pancetta on the side, which he said was a nice complement to the frittata. The vegetable and cheese combinations are numerous and this is a dish we come back to often with various substitutions, but this just felt so green and hopeful to us that night.

Barley, Mushroom, Asparagus Soup
Yield: 4 main, 6 side dish servings

I went for a long walk on Tuesday to clear my head and find some coffee and I was out for just long enough to let the damp cold seep into my bones and for my heart to demand soup for dinner. And so it was.



Ingredients
6 cups homemade vegetable stock (or 3 cups mushroom broth, 3 cups vegetable stock)*
6 button mushrooms, sliced
6 cremini mushrooms, sliced
2 carrots, sliced into thick coins
1 leek, sliced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tsp. butter
2 tsp. fresh thyme
2 bay leaves
2/3 cup organic barley
5-7 asparagus stalks


Bring stock to a simmer. Add mushrooms, carrots and bay leaves, and cover. Cook over medium/low heat for about 20 minutes. Add barley and cover again. While the barley is cooking, sauté the leek and garlic in the butter, set aside while you chop the asparagus into ½” pieces. The barley should take about 25 minutes to cook. Add leek, garlic, thyme, and asparagus about 5 minutes before you are ready to serve, just to heat through. You want the asparagus to be bright green, with a slight crunch and its characteristic fibrousness.
Salt and pepper to taste.

*I made my own stock, but Pacific mushroom broth and Rapunzel vegetable stock cubes would probably be just fine in a pinch.


We had this soup while it was still piping hot, with some warm freshly baked whole wheat honey bread and some steamed broccoli with white wine vinaigrette, and it was the perfect dinner to take some of the chill and dread from my heart and from our hands. It’s the kind of soup that makes you think that something is going to change soon, be it the weather, or something more significant.

Regrettably, I can’t leave you with a soup or an egg song, but I can tell you that we have thyme and lavender sprouts in our window herb garden, a kitty that is happy to have both humans in the same room, a refreshed and more hopeful Hannah, and a detoxified Matthias who is ready to roast some chicken tonight.