Anjuli’s grandmother, my mom, was born in 1910.  She did not cook much until she married in 1940, as far as I know.  She went through WWII as a wartime bride, exposed to rationing and culinary marvels like Scrapple and Spam. I was a baby boomer, born in ’47, so for me her cooking style was a product of the 50s. She delighted in post-war conveniences: plastic bags, frozen vegetables, cold soda, Tastykakes and Entenmann’s, en masse condiments like mayonnaise and ketchup, and keeping leftovers in the fridge (sometimes too long in my opinion).  And she loved iceberg. Salads at home were invariably iceberg, tomatoes, carrots, onions and one of ten kinds of bottled dressing. The only exception to this rule was her wilted endive salad. She’d even make her own dressing. We always ate it as a main course because of the ample bacon and hard boiled eggs. I loved this salad for its heartiness, the texture of the curly, wilted endive, the sweet and sour tones of the dressing, and the lovely, crispy bacon. It satisfied all the tastes.  It stood alone beautifully. 

But I thought that the recipe was lost. I knew I didn’t have it and my dear mommy has been dead for over twenty years. Last fall I was visiting my brother Eric in Vermont and I told him how I was missing this salad. It had played a big role in my culinary memories of childhood, as it was the only really good salad she made.  Helen, my sister-in-law, looked up and said, “Weez, I have her handwritten copy of the recipe.  Do you want it?”  “Yes, Yes Yes.” I toothily grinned and batted my eyes at Helen, hoping to look fetching and praying she would not change her mind. These family recipes are much sought after in my little clan.  She handed it to me. There nestled in my hand lay an index card written in my Mom’s handwriting, whose script I remembered like it was yesterday. I was really quite moved. I started tearing up. I have been thinking about this recipe for about five years. I really had no clue what she actually did in a way where I could reasonably hope for success in reproducing it. To see that card, without even looking at the ingredients, brought her back to me. It brought me back to that cherished feeling of family, with the kitchen at the center of it all; her little kitchen with its icebox and porcelain sink and its black phone with a party line. 

As it turns out, the card is more rough notes than a recipe. Still, it was a place to start. In January I decided to plant endive expressly so I could make this salad. And once it grew, I played around a little until I had the taste I remember from fifty plus years ago. -Weezie

Notes on ingredients:  Mom would have used Gulden’s mustard and she would have used apple cider vinegar.  I tried the apple cider vinegar and found it a little sharp but feel free to experiment; I did.

Mom would have used nitrite-free bacon and free range eggs not by choice, but because that’s what she could get. I did go out of my way to find these ingredients, and would suggest for you to try and do the same.

Wilted curly endive salad Serves 2
8 strips bacon cut into 1″ dice
4 hard boiled eggs, peeled
2 small heads of curly endive, 4 – 5 cups coarsely chopped (endive is neither escarole nor frisée , but frisée works just as well!)
1/3 cup apple cider vinegar (or combination of apple cider and balsamic 3:1)
Water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon raw sugar
2 teaspoons Dijon-type mustard

Fry the bacon. Heat a medium-sized frying pan to medium-low.  Fry the bacon to a medium brown and crispy.  Drain on paper towels and set aside. Drain almost all of the bacon fat but leave enough to cover the bottom of the skillet.  

Assemble the ingredients. Slice the hard boiled eggs in half; reserve the yolks for the dressing.  Slice the whites and set aside.  Cut the ends off the endive heads, wash, spin dry in a salad spinner and chop coarsely.  Put the endive in a glass bowl.  Add the egg whites.  Cover with a plate. 

Make the dressing. In a small bowl crush the egg yolks.  Dilute the balsamic to 1/2 cup with water.  Add to the yolks with the salt, sugar and mustard.  Whisk until smooth.  Add this mixture to the skillet and simmer for 5 minutes until reduced by half.  Remove the plate from the bowl. 

Toss, marinate, eat. Add the dressing and the bacon and replace the plate.  Leave plated for 15 minutes, then remove the plate and toss.  Eat immediately. 

The farmers’ market here, while quite small in the winter, is rightly so quite proud of its produce. We recently bought some sweet, purple garlic from friends of Matt’s Teague and Kosma Channing, who founded Gemini Farms outside of Santa Fe. We also brought home these two huge, beautiful ruddy beets.

As I pulled out a tray to pop one in the oven and thumbed through Alice Waters’ The Art of Simple Food, I felt accountable for keeping these beet flavors true, whatever they would turn out to be. So I drizzled some good olive oil on the beet and sent it on its way to roast for what turned out to be 1 1/2 hours (it was a seriously big beet!). When it came out I peeled it, cubed it, and immediately popped one small, deep red cube in my mouth. WOW. It was not like the sugary sweet beets I have come to hate. The beet tasted of, well, dirt. But the most wonderfully complex earth, wrapped up in a somewhat sugary, tender purple package. It reminded me of the earthy, yellow beet vodka I had tasted at Blue Hill at Stone Barns last year. More than that, it reminded me of the expression on the prim and proper bartenders face when I said, “Wow, tastes like dirt!” Dirt, terroir, earth.

When food tastes like it comes from the soil, the only thing a cook can do is try to accentuate those flavors. Sometimes this means adding heat, sometimes adding a complimentary flavor, and sometimes giving it a gentle scrub under the faucet and nothing more. I toasted a few cumin seeds, added in a bit of tumeric for bite and color, and a little salt and lime juice to bring out the flavor. It was the most satisfying little root I had tasted in a long time, and I wouldn’t claim to have done anything about that. Except enjoy the cubes until my fingers, mouth, fork, and bowl were stained with their sweet, earthy juice.

Today, well, it was back to fire roasting with our second beet. I washed it, peeled it, diced it, sprinkled on some salt and olive oil, and placed it, along with garlic, radicchio, rosemary sprigs, and a couple of carrots onto the heat of the coals. After about 30 minutes we had perfectly roasted beets and radicchio, which we topped with some sliced black olives, fresh goat cheese, and some freshly toasted and ground cumins. Welcome to beet heaven.

Fire roasted beet salad with radicchio, fresh goat cheese, and black olives
1-2 beets, washed, peeled, and cut into 1″ dice
1-2 small bunches radicchio, washed and de-stemmed
4 sprigs rosemary, washed, 2 minced and 2 reserved
Extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
Sea salt

A handful of salt-cured black olives, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Aged balsamic vinegar
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds, dry toasted in a pan for two minutes and coarsely ground
3 ounces mild, fresh goat cheese, broken or crumbled

Toss the beets in a good glug of olive oil and sprinkle on some salt. Place them in your metal roasting pan. Toss the radicchio with a teaspoon of olive oil and black pepper and add to pan next to the beets. Add the two stems of rosemary and any other ingredients you’d like to roast.

Once you’re down to just coals (reading about 600F), push them to one side and add the pan onto the irons above the coals. Roast the radicchio for 3 minutes, turning once. Once they’re just limp, remove. Continue to roast the beets, turning a couple times for 30 minutes in total. Check the temperature periodically and blow on your coals to generate more heat if needed. The heat at the bottom of your pan should be at least 300F. Once the beets are fork tender, remove and add to the radicchio. Discard the rosemary.

Tip: Whenever I’m roasting something I generally add a whole head of garlic, top sliced off so all the cloves are exposed and then dips face down in olive oil. This way I can have roasted garlic whenever I like. You know it’s roasted when the garlic is soft to the touch and slightly brown where exposed. If you’re roasting on really high heat, cover the top of the garlic in a bit of tinfoil.

Add the olives and minced rosemary to the salad. In a small bowl, add the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, cumin, and some freshly cracked pepper. Whisk. Top the salad with the goat cheese. Add the dressing and toss. Enjoy!

For the oven folks
You can also make this salad by using your oven and stove stop. Make sure the rack is situated at the top 1/3 of the oven and heat to 400F. Cover the beets in foil and roast for 20 minutes, then remove foil and roast 20 minutes more, tossing a couple of times. In a heavy saute pan, saute the radicchio until wilted, about 8 minutes. Proceed with recipe above.

Tonight was the second night this week we thumped and punched and twirled and proofed and flattened and squeezed and generally manhandled some incredibly fluffy and elastic pizza dough. We’re trying to perfect a fluffy, crispy, and light crust that will rise conveniently fast but not too fast. We’re also working on perfecting cooking in the pizza oven — a feat that requires building a tepee of logs and lighting the paper beneath them ablaze while your whole torso is in the oven and making sure to remove your head quickly before your eyes melt. My mother, the pioneering woman she is, has this down pat. It also means adding logs every 10 minutes to keep the temperature up at 500 degrees, maneuvering hot cheese and dough in and out of the oven on peels with handles of 2-3 feet, and using a camping headlamp and a hat to be able to stand in the front of the oven without singeing the tip of your hair and still see at 4pm on a winter afternoon. In short: totally awesome. Anyone nearby will notice a boldness and exuberance combined with sheer giddiness and seriously flushed cheeks in themselves and their cohorts. Not to mention the heat.

Making pizzas can be chaotic. It can require endless little cups and bowls toting all sorts of pre-assembled goodies. It may mean flinging the pizza into the air first and mending the holes later. But when you’re finally amongst friends and face deep in that ooey gooey goodness, taking in that first whiff of flour and char, the herbs and acidity of the sauce, the slightly smoky toppings and all that cheese, it’s kind of hard to argue. Or to speak in complete sentences for that matter.

On such an occasion we like to have a biting bowl of good greens that can stand up to a good slice. Not just some I-did-my-duty-and-ate-a-forkful-of-romaine-withering-in-a-bowl-now-give-me-six-slices salad. But a burst of acidity, sweetness, and freshness. This salad is my new favorite of the lot. To say a bowl of greens stands up to pizza. Now that’s worth writing to mom about.

Ginger lime carrot and onion salad with toasted black sesame seeds
Marinated carrots and onion
2 large sweet carrots, washed, peeled, and cut into rough matchsticks (roughly 1 cup)
1/4 red onion, peeled, cut lengthwise, cut in half, and sliced thinly (roughly 1/2 cup)
Juice of 1/2 lime
1 teaspoon good maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 inch ginger, peeled and grated

Combine all the ingredients and marinate in the fridge for 1-2 hrs.

Dressing
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon dried oregano, crushed
Freshly ground black pepper
A sprig dried thyme, crushed
1 clove garlic, sliced thinly

1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar

Combine the olive oil, oregano, thyme, garlic, and some freshly ground black pepper. Whisk. Cover and let sit in the fridge for at least 1 hour up to a few days. Remove from fridge and add one tablespoon of juice from the marinating carrots and onions and the balsamic vinegar. Whisk. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside.

Salad assembly
1 head romaine, washed, and ripped coarsely
3 tablespoons black sesame seeds

Toast the black sesame seeds in a small pan on medium-low heat for 2-3 minutes, stirring often. Remove from heat and set aside.

Combine the lettuce, carrots, and onions, and sprinkle on the sesame seeds. Add dressing and toss to coast. Let sit for 5 minutes to marinate. Enjoy!

It’s not the most romantic photo (apologies, it was so good we couldn’t help but eat it immediately!), but this Cavalo Nero Caesar salad is a stellar addition to the curious category of “winter salads.” I had this one at Il Buco in the East Village a month back and I couldn’t believe how flavorful it was, so I just had to try it myself. I always tend to enjoy the rich anchovy egg Caesar salad dressing in the fall/winter, but Romaine is a ridiculous purchase this time of year. The Black Tuscan Kale (Cavalo Nero) has a much more mellow bitterness than its kale cousins, but the leaves really sweeten up when you parboil them. I find the salad works well both with raw and cooked leaves. Kale is a wonderful winter vegetable, rich with calcium, lutein, iron, and vitamins A, C, and K. It’s also rich in sulforophane, which boosts the body’s detoxification enzymes and also has anticancer properties.

So let’s just say this variation on an Americanized Italian salad reintroduces some much needed Italian ingredients in a one-two punch of rustic Tuscan class and nutritive value. I find it lovely without the crusty bread, but if you’re really in need of some, check out my original Caesar for instructions.

1 large bunch cavalo nero
1 1/2 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil (I always use EVOO)
1-2 anchovy fillets, chopped
Salt
1 teaspoon garlic, minced
One high quality Organic (or better) egg
A good hunk of Parmigiano Reggiano or Aged Pecorino, large shavings
Black pepper, freshly cracked
Juice of I/2 lemon

Wash the kale and remove any woody stems.

Only if you want to cook the leaves: Set some water to boil in a medium saucepan and add in a pinch of baking soda. Once the water comes to a boil, add the kale and parboil for 3-5 minutes (depending on the maturity of the leave), removing just when it’s gone from tough to crisp and there’s a sweetness to the taste. Place in a colander and let cool.

Whisk the oil, anchovies, a little salt, and garlic in a small bowl. Add the egg, a few sprinkles of cheese, and lots of black pepper. *Whisk to emulsify. Add the lemon juice. Whisk. Taste and adjust seasoning. Place the kale in a bowl, add enough dressing to coat and toss. Sprinkle on some cheese and toss lightly. Serve immediately with some added cheese, for the super cheese nut.

*Note: It’s much easier to emulsify when using a ball whisk. The more loops that touch the liquid the faster and more evenly distributed the dressing will be. Careful not to go crazy, though, because you don’t want to aerate the egg too much, causing bubble to form.

Variation
For those who don’t feel anchovies are quite for them, the NYTimes has a version with raw kale, pecorino, and red pepper flakes that omits the egg and anchovy part of the dressing. While I haven’t tried this version, the recipe looks rather yummy.

Grain salads can be your best friend in summer. You usually have something fresh on hand or something to get rid of, it’s all about the produce, and it’s so f*cking hot you want something cooling and excellent that doesn’t require being chained to the stove. In summer you’d be hard-pressed to find a blog or site that doesn’t include a “new spin” on this old favorite. When I found a bag of hard red spring wheat berries in the cabinet I thought I’d give it a try. Since I am not a fan of being slave to recipes (or my stove in summer, apparently), I spent a little time researching what goes well with these grain salad things people love so much.

The classic grain salad is served cold, and usually includes Mediterranean/Middle Eastern flavors and summer vegetables. I fell in love with the nutty, hearty wheat berry, which definitely holds its own more than bulgar, quinoa, or farro. Of course, these grains are excellent too. Wheat berries are whole wheat kernels with the husks removed, while bulgar is a quick-cooking form of whole wheat that has been parboiled, dried, and ground into little bits. If you’re sick of durum wheat, then quinoa, farro, wild rice, buckwheat groats, or barley are also good to play with.

Below I give you a ratio that will work well for most of the hearty grains and allow you to mix and match depending on what you have on hand. When I think about pairing ingredients for this dish, I start with the ingredient I really want to use. Then, depending on its texture and flavor I try to balance it with something else. If I have some insane beets to roast, maybe I want some citrus to counter the starch, and some toasted walnuts or pecans to add some body, a little arugula for spice, some grapefruit for that sweet/sour acid, and a little fresh goat cheese to give something really creamy to the bite of the beets. If I really wanted to go with some really excellent, ripe tomatoes, maybe some avocado, cilantro, red onion for bite, lime juice, and cumin. Or how about some sauteed zucchini and squash, wilted chard, lemon juice, shallots, basil, and cayenne.

The salad we made was totally satisfying and when I kept the ingredients and the flavorings separate, it kept for days. Experiment and enjoy.

CHOOSE your INGREDIENTS (a couple of portions):
1/2 cup nuts or olives: e.g. toasted pecans, toasted walnuts, kalamata, black olives, or green olives
1 cup summer vegetable(s): e.g. diced cucumber, tomato, or sweet peppers; blanched peas; sauteed zucchini, summer squash, or eggplant, or roasted beets, diced avocado
1/2 cup sweet fruit: e.g. segmented oranges, segmented grapefruit, golden raisins, dried or fresh figs, dried currants, or dried cranberries
1 cup summer greens: e.g. arugula, watercress; wilted chard or spinach

CHOOSE your FLAVOR PAIRINGS (one of each):
2 tablespoons Mediterranean herb: e.g. parsley, mint, oregano, marjoram, basil, dill, or cilantro
1 teaspoon citrus juice: e.g. lime, lemon, orange, or grapefruit
2 tablespoons vinegar: e.g. cider vinegar or red wine vinegar
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

ADD a little UMPH, if you like:
3 oz fresh cheese: e.g. cubed feta, mozzarella, or crumbled goat cheese
1 allium: e.g. 1 diced shallot, 1 minced clove garlic, or 1/2 red onion diced
Spice: e.g. 1 teaspoon dry roasted cumin or 1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1 teaspoon something sweet: e.g. maple syrup or honey

COOK some WHEAT BERRIES (in advance if you like):
1 cup hard red spring wheat berries
3 1/2 cups cold water
1 teaspoon salt

Put the berries, water, and salt in a medium heavy-bottomed pan and turn on to boil. Cook 1 hour or until berries are bursting and chewy. Remove from heat. Cool until ready to use.

ASSEMBLE the STUFF

MAGIC will HAPPEN (kind of like this)
Ours blossomed into a wheat berry salad with watercress, arugula, cucumber, kalamata olives, red onion, mint, and crumbled feta.

The origin story of the white brined curd cheese from the Balkans has long been a point of contention. As of 2002 the Greeks have the official PDO (Protected Designation of Origin) on “feta,” which was again upheld in 2005 when Denmark, Germany, and France fought to use “feta” as a generic name for any salty, white cheese. As far as the Balkans are concerned, Bulgarians claim the cheese to be a descendant of their “sirene” from the Trakia region in the Balkan Peninsula.

While the Greeks may have ownership, getting someone to properly enforce labeling on imports is another issue. My Whole Foods still labels French, Greek, and Bulgarian as all “feta,” but thankfully indicates the country. So why care? There is a considerable difference between a blanched industrial version coming out of Denmark, a real Greek feta, and a real Bulgarian feta. I much prefer the Bulgarian sirene, especially when it’s made only from sheep’s milk (the fattiest curd at around 45%). So while country of origin is important for me, it’s sad that it’s become increasingly harder to find the Bulgarian kind. Either way, fresh, briny cheeses are good on salads. The crumbly curds lend a creamy and slightly acidic balance to crunchy vegetables.

Traditional Greek salads are made of the freshest, plumpest tomatoes, red onion, cucumber, chunks of feta, occasionally a bit of a thick-spined crisp lettuce, maybe some olives, capers, or an anchovy or two, and always with lemon and good olive oil. While I do swoon over this version, I find it’s mostly impractical to obtain the just-ripe veggies needed in a New York summer. Greek salad is always open to new ideas as far as I’m concerned (the Greeks would probably disagree).

So once or twice a summer, when I can find some delectably sweet and fresh tomatoes, a particularly spicy red onion, a crisp head of Romaine, and a super sweet, burpless cucumber, I will take my Bulgarian feta and place it atop a Caesar-like Greek salad with French levain croutons and a garlic anchovy dressing. It’s a feisty little bastard, and boy is it cooling and delicious in the summer heat. Cool off and enjoy!

Salad Ingredients
1 burpless cucumber, diced
1 handful assorted of the freshest and sweetest tomatoes, washed and cut into pieces you’d want to fit into your mouth
1 head of a mild and thick-stemmed green lettuce, so crisp it crackles, washed, outer leaves removed, and ripped into pieces
1/2 awesome red onion, sliced into sickles
1/3 cup whole kalamata olives, pitted and chopped
3 oz fresh sheep’s milk feta of your choice, cubed

Breadcrumbs
2 cloves garlic, minced
A couple slices worth of crumby artisan bread (I used a French country sourdough levain), crusts removed and cubed
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Salt
Pepper

4 tablespoon fresh Mediterranean herb (chives, oregano, spearmint, marjoram, basil, or thyme)

Garlic Anchovy Dressing
1 large clove garlic, minced
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 anchovy fillets, minced
A ton of freshly ground black pepper
Salt
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 minced herb

Set the oven to 350. Mince the herb. Reserve half for the salad dressing. In a small bowl combine some fresh herb, the feta cubes, and a tablespoon of feta juice. Grind in some black pepper. Set aside

In a medium bowl mix the garlic, olive oil, and some black pepper. Roll the bread around. Set on a cookie sheet and put in the oven for 10 minutes, or until crunchy. Remove from oven and let cool.

Combine the salad vegetables. Whisk dressing. Add the remaining fresh herb, olives, and feta to the salad. Toss w/ dressing, add croutons, and serve immediately.

Sometimes cooking sounds like a sentence of being shackled to the kitchen counter in a prom dress and pink pumps, and makes me want to run away screaming and wielding a knife. A food blog gives you a unique sense of time and cooking. I have realized, for instance, that the domesticity of making food currently gives me hives. Before the blog I simply would have shirked the cooking and ordered takeout, four weeks in a row. While I will never be a housewife angel, I also relish the audience and the gift of nourishing others. I love cooking, and learning, and creating, but hate constraints, habit, and tedious tasks. I move fast and need to keep learning. I rarely put things in my mouth I don’t like, regardless of whether it’s food, ideas, or labels. But if I don’t love to cook all the time, how can I expect anyone else to?

When you’re me, you use making food as a means of personal expression. And if you take this too literally, your dishes become your “creations.” This can be delicious in good times, but a total starving nightmare when you’re just not feeling inspired. Because when your creativity is so deeply coupled with something vital to life, well, you’re just asking for it. You’re just begging for the omelette to fall like slop out of the pan, for the mayonnaise to break and spill all over itself, and for everything you make to just not be good enough.

Because it’s not about the dishes you create that are so important, but the process itself. It’s about the eating and the company. It’s about your style, the ingredients that inspire you, and the way you feel about food. The preparation or “cooking” is how that all comes together and changes you and those who eat your food.

Well in the midst of not wanting to go anywhere near the kitchen I got a visit from my mother and a heaping box of produce. And what changed? The ingredients. The second those fresh, furry heart-shaped leaves of oregano were in my hand, I knew I could cook again, and needed to. I knew that there was nothing more important than getting those ingredients into mine and Matt’s bodies in the most delightful but simple way possible. They had been grown with the utmost love, and we ate them with the utmost joy. Today, after my long hiatus, I implore you to head to your local greenmarket, vegetable stand, local park, farm, backyard, or wherever, and pick some ingredients to take home and love. Summer’s a comin!

Simple, simple, garden salad
4 sprigs herbs, washed and stems removed – oregano, mint, tarragon, basil, verbena
Spring alliums, washed and with large pieces ripped coarsely – a handful of chives chives, a few scapes, a spring onion
3 small bunches of greens, washed – green leaf, red leaf, arugula, radicchio, watercress, spinach, sorrel
A couple ounces of a fresh cow or goat cheese, shaved with a vegetable peeler
1 spring onion, sliced thinly (stalk can be used in place of herbs above)

1 clove garlic, peeled and minced
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Assemble the lettuce, herbs, alliums, and spring onion in a bowl. In another small bowl, whisk together the garlic, dijon mustard, oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Top the salad with cheese, pour over the dressing, and toss. Savor with a good hunk of bread and some olive oil.

We spent this weekend visiting mom and pop Pelletier in Dighton. In spite of Saturday’s rain we enjoyed ourselves splendidly, visiting a couple of Portuguese bakeries, a supermarket, and a restaurant called TA (Terra Nostra) in Fall River, MA.

Visiting a local bakery at noon is apparently as smart as going five minutes before closing time. Bakers bake and sell early. We did find some little pastries and a semi-soft Serra cheese that is slightly tangy and salty and excellent on sandwiches. The Portuguese are notoriously good bakers. Matt’s half Portuguese, so that means he’s twice as dangerous as me with a little flour and water. Indeed. Our makeshift microwave bread box is currently stuffed with homemade English muffins and cinnamon raisin bread.

The supermarket, Chaves, was a prime example of the local ingredients that can be found in close proximity to water, and within a community not afraid of something like a pig’s foot. My kind of people. I’d never seen whole frozen octopus at a grocery store, the live crabs made me jealous (until we bought 6 and ate them for dinner!), and the more traditional butcher cuts of meat were refreshing (and yes, fresh). The linguiça, however, stole the show. It was piled high and fresh behind the meat case and the aroma of the links filled the whole room with a spicy, smokey pigginess. Of course we bought some, and some pimenta moida (red crushed pepper sauce) which JoAnn pointed out is pretty versatile and can be used as a rub or sauce for all kinds of dishes.

I don’t know much about Portuguese food, but TA restaurant was awesome. The caldo verde (kale soup) with linguiça was one of the best soups I’ve had in a while. The light broth was infused with some of the fat drippings from the itty bitty pieces of sausage, the potatoes added body, and the kale was still a little bitter. The table favorite, though, was the carne de porco alentejana (chunks of marinated pork with cubed potatoes and little necks), incredibly tender meat served wih light, crispy potatoes in a slightly spicy dry rub. We also had lightly batter fried bacalhau (cod) with thickly sliced homemade potato chips, which was the perfect combination of textures and just a little grease.

Returning home armed with my first Portuguese ingredients and the tastes still lingering on my tongue, I needed a recipe. This week we’re trying to cook light and fast so I turned to a salad. I remember the typical restaurant salad with egg, frisée, parmesan, some bacon, and an oily or anchovy dressing. So why not linguiça, serra, egg, and roasted garlic dressing? Why not indeed. Although I was betraying the linguiça roots of being paired with potatoes, onions, and other meats, I attempted to showcase the sausage’s juicy goods by contrasting color, texture, and flavor. The result? This salad is a party in your mouth.

Next up is definitely caldo verde, then alentejana. I am hooked.

Roasted garlic dressing
Makes enough for 6 servings
1 head garlic, 1/4 inch head removed and top of each clove exposed
1 handful Italian flat leaf parsley leaves, washed and stemmed
1/4 cup olive oil
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 teaspoon pimenta moida
3 tablespoon Greek strained yogurt
1 shallot, peeled and sliced
Freshly ground black pepper

Remove 1/2 inch of the top of the garlic head and cut away the top of each clove with a paring knife to expose. Coat tops in olive oil and cover with tin foil. Roast on a cookie sheet in a 400 degree oven for 40 minutes. Remove and let cool. Remove cloves. Meanwhile place all ingredients in a food processor. Add the garlic. Puree. Place in a bowl. Can store in the fridge for up to one week.

Frisée salad w/ linguiça, serra, egg
2 small heads of frisée, washed, stemmed, and dried
1 oz Serra, grated with a vegetable peeler
2 Organic eggs
1/2 chain linguiça, 1/4 inch thick slices
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
1/2 shallot, sliced thinly

Get the greens, shallot, and cheese ready in the salad bowl. Grind some black pepper. Heat some olive oil in a pan on medium heat. Bring a small pot with enough water to cover the eggs to a boil. Cook the linguiça, about 4 minutes. Drain on paper towels. Once the water is boiling, add the eggs and set the timer for 5 minutes. Fill a bowl with cold water. When done, place the eggs in the water for a couple of minutes to cool. You want the sausage to be cooling while you peel the eggs. Both should be warm but not hot when served. Peel the eggs and slice them over the greens. Add the sausage and toss with the salad dressing. Serve.

It feels like we’ve been tackling the flu since our return from Japan (or are we just sick with longing to go back?). When I caught sight of this recipe chock full of garlic, ginger, and dark leafy greens loaded with calcium, Vitamin A, and Vitamin C, I thanked its source, Eating Well, for giving me a treatment I don’t need to gag on and swallow with huge gulps of water. Not only are the ingredients healthy, but this salad tickles your sweet, salty, bitter, and sour buds. Throw in some kelp and you’d have all five taste buds present.

The original recipe is by a woman named Ellen Ogden who used to own a lettuce garden in Vermont. It looked pretty stellar, but I didn’t have an hour to roast garlic, and also wanted it raw to retain more nutrients. I also changed the proportions a little, threw in some mint for sweetness, and added a little crunchy shallot. I haven’t read through Eating Well in a while, but was impressed with the latest issue’s recipes, and also an especially good (and depressing) article on the disappearance of bees worldwide.

Here’s hoping these spicy mouthfuls will kick me back into action.

Small bunch watercress, washed and with woody stems removed
Equal portion Japanese mizuna, washed and torn (if necessary)*
1-2 scallions, white ends removed, outer green layer stripped, and sliced thinly
A handful of mint leaves, washed and torn
5-8 stalks asparagus (not pencil kind), washed, woody stems snapped off, and cut into 1 inch logs
1 medium shallot, sliced thinly
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons blond sesame seeds

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Mix the asparagus in a bowl with some olive oil, salt, and pepper. Place on a cookie sheet and roast, turning every 5 minutes, for 10-15 minutes, until charred and cooked through. Remove from sheet and cool.

Combine the greens with the shallot and mint in the salad bowl. If you have a wooden salad bowl (this purchase is still on my list), rub it with a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic.

Dry-roast the sesame seeds in a small saute pan on medium heat, tossing often, until golden. Remove and set aside to cool.

Add the sesame seeds and asparagus to the greens. Dress and toss. Serve immediately. Goes great with miso and some rice.

Garlic-soy dressing
1/2 shallot, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
Yield of 1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon white wine vinegar
Freshly ground black pepper

Whisk ingredients in a bowl. Taste and adjust seasonings.

* Mizuna, also known as Japanese mustard, has the look of a dandelion and a peppery taste, but is milder than arugula. Baby kale or mustard greens can be substituted if need be.

I can’t share this whole recipe with you. It’s not a secret. It’s just that I was in a mood when I started it, and ended up opening my cabinets and dumping everything into a bowl in instinctual proportion but without paying attention. So to repeat, you may need to release some creative tension into the salad dressing, abandoning any care for convention, and relish this spicy concoction. Somewhere in the line of: 2 minced shallots, 2 minced cloves of garlic, 3 tablespoons olive oil, 1 teaspoon lemon juice, 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil, 1 teaspoon honey, 1 teaspoon cashew butter, crushed red pepper flakes, a little coconut milk, 1 teaspoon chipotle salsa, 2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar, 1 teaspoon whole grain English mustard, 1 teaspoon soy sauce, 1 teaspoon rice vinegar, and some pepper. Whisk. Taste. Wow.

Brush half on the chicken, which is already washed, dried, salted, peppered, and diced.

Wash a head of watercress (and remove woody ends); wash two scallions, remove dark green tips and chop; slice 1/2 small red onion thinly, and then wash a handful of mint leaves and rip ‘em apart. Assemble in a bowl and refrigerate.

Roll tofu in blond sesame seeds and sauteed it in olive oil on medium high (3 minutes per side); remove and drain.

Saute the chicken with some grated ginger on medium (3 minutes both sides). Set aside.

Toss half the remaining salad dressing with the watercress, then add the tofu and toss with remaining dressing. Plate and top the chicken. Eat with chopsticks. Smile. Live in yummy salad heaven while watching slugs mate on Planet Earth with David Attenborough. Ok, you can pick your own accompanying visuals.