Panfried Asparagus with Ramps

 This was a dish that pleasantly surprised us, given its simplicity. It was a nice way to salute the late arrival of nice weather and one of my favorite vegetables, asparagus. Sadly, there's nothing like ramps here in France (I'm not sure I've ever eaten a ramp, frankly), so I went with green/spring onions and then supplemented with a typical spring herb, sorrel. I thought that was in keeping with the "sharp, biting" greens that Melissa writes about in the headnotes. Sorrel has a lemony taste that matches well with the other flavors in this dish.

The recipe is a snap to make. You slice and sauté the whites of the onions and some lemon slices (if possible, use an organic, thin-skinned lemon) in a good amount of butter. Then you add the asparagus and the sliced green onion tops (and sorrel), cover, and cook a while longer.

Finally, you add some eggs and let them fry: I put them in a 350 oven for 5 minutes. And that's it: a simple brunch-ish dish--for us, a light Sunday lunch.

As it turns out, I'm really the only one in the family who enjoys asparagus, and yet this dish disappeared quickly and effortlessly. The asparagus was perfectly cooked and, as Julia pointed out, "really well spiced". I didn't love the lemon bits: my lemons had thick skin that was pretty bitter. But other than that, I was really happy with this dish and once again, glad I made it.

Pan-Roasted Asparagus

It's April near Paris, and you know what that means...cold, windy, rainy weather. I still wouldn't go so far as to call it the cruelest month. That would be November. But April also means the beginning of spring produce: strawberries, sorrel, peas, spring onions, asparagus.

Northern Europeans, however, seem to appreciate white asparagus more than the green stuff. I personally could never make friends with white asparagus: it requires peeling, and even then it can be stringy. So I was delighted to find beautiful green asparagus at a roadside market while we were on the return trip from vacation. 

This dish involves three basic elements: toasted breadcrumbs flavored with anchovy, lemon zest, and garlic; asparagus that's been roasted on the stovetop, and fried eggs that create a bit of a sauce and make the dish substantial enough for lunch.

The asparagus comes out of the pan somewhat toasty but also tender-crisp. However, I made the mistake of using the wrong kind of oil (the "good" olive oil, meant to be used as a finishing oil ) and overheating the pan: the asparagus picked up an unpleasant burnt-oil taste. I haven't had this problem roasting my asparagus in the oven, so I would recommend using a "normal" olive oil and the oven.

The bread crumbs were controversial: Claire immediately picked up on the fishy taste and was not happy about it. I thought it was kind of OK, but the dish would also have been good without the anchovy. Maybe even better.

And finally, the fried eggs. I picked up an awesome technique from Elle magazine: You can fry eggs in the oven! I put a bit of olive oil in my nonstick (oven-safe) skillet, cracked the eggs into it, and put the skillet in a 350 oven for 5 minutes--the eggs and asparagus started cooking at about the same time. They turned out great: the whites were completely set (which is normally a problem for me), but the yolks were still nice and runny.

I liked this dish, and I think it has the potential to be something I love. Changes I would make would be to roast the asparagus in the oven (since I would be turning it on for the eggs anyway) and to replace the anchovy with Parmesan. With those changes, I think it would make a perfect springtime lunch/brunch dish.

Matzo Brei

Matzo is not something I buy or eat on a regular basis. When we were kids, we would sometimes get it and eat it spread with salted butter. But other than that, it's pretty much been a novelty item to eat at Seder meals.

So when Maddy proposed we make the Matzo Brei, I had to think about whether matzo was even available at the grocery store here. Fortunately, since it's Passover now, there was in fact plenty of matzo to be had. Of course, the first thing I made with it was this. And Claire sampled it with butter and salt and pronounced it good.

 But now it was time to make the Brei. In German, Brei means porridge, and that kind of makes sense here, since you soak the matzo down to a soft mass.

 The recipe is basically a matzo frittata: you beat eggs and milk with salt and plenty of pepper, and then you thrown in your soaked and drained matzo.

 Strangely enough, while I was cooking this recipe, this story popped up on my iPod, so I could fully appreciate the effort that went into my matzo.

 But matzo brei? Not so much effort. Now we're ready to melt the butter. Melissa calls for SIX TABLESPOONS of the stuff. This is probably half that, and it's still pretty darned buttery. (If you're wondering about the little white things, the salted butter here has large salt crystals--yum--that create that effect.)

Your matzo mixture goes in the pan and cooks for a while until it's nice and brown. What's nice is that you can flip it over in quarters, so you don't stress as you might with a frittata.

 I did the caramelized onions on the side because we're a family of caramelized onion fans (Claire said she wanted the whole batch for her dinner). It was a good decision: I liked this better with the onions than with the honey, especially when it's for dinner.

While this recipe seemed weird, we all really liked it. Julia said it was like a German pancake. It's substantial yet fluffy, and I can see taking it over to the sweet side some time. Claire tried it with a variety of toppings, from honey to sriracha, and she said she liked it best with ketchup and caramelized onions. The rest of us stuck pretty much just to the caramelized onions and that was just fine. I made two batches for the four of us (one batch=4 squares of matzo and 4 eggs), and that was just right for everyone but me--I couldn't finish mine.

So I'm glad Maddy picked this recipe and that the store had matzo. I would never have tried the recipe otherwise, and that would have been a shame.

Rescued Recipe: Crêpes Polonaises

I have an odd collection of cookbooks, to say the least. I certainly don’t have 101 cookbooks like Heidi Swanson, but I do have a bookshelf full of them. The thing is, I forbade myself from buying new cookbooks back in the 90s, so my collection is dated. Of course, I occasionally let other people buy me cookbooks (if you’re reading this and want to gift me, I’d love Dorie Greenspan’s Baking from My Home to Yours and Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian), so I do have a few from this century. But I still have Cookbook Rules. I don’t like cookbooks with too many pictures, and I don’t like fussy chef’s cookbooks. I know that so many people love beautiful food photography, but frankly, it intimidates me. It’s like looking at clothes in a catalog—it looks great on the model, but I’m going to look like a sack of potatoes in it. And even though my food tastes great, it’s no model ready for photography. All I need is a list of ingredients and a tempting description, and I’m ready to cook.
So the cookbook that I’m “rescuing” a recipe from today is called Mes Meilleurs Desserts by a certain Anne LeChastenier, printed in 1988. I bought this baby at a cookbook store in Paris in about that year. I didn’t speak much French and asked the lady at the shop for some guidance. She didn’t think much of my French or cooking skills and guided me to this book and another, Cuisine Sans Souci, that I still cook from. These are both simple but not basic books. They assume that you have all the basic cooking skills and just need some ideas to get you through the next meal. If you’re making crêpes, which we are here, they just tell you: “Préparer la pâte et la laisser reposer…Faire sauter les crepes.” (Make the batter and let it rest; cook the crêpes) That’s it. You don’t know how to make crêpes? Go ask Maman.
I’m going to take this approach with you, because I’m not the official crêpe maker in my home. My French husband gets this task, which he does with aplomb. He even gets the first crêpe right. One of the reasons I married him. I see on the Internet that there is a video of Alton Brown making crêpes. If you don’t know how, you might start there.
So here’s the recipe, translated and adapted. We had it for a dinner party and then for breakfast the next day. It’s not mind-blowingly delicious, but we had no trouble polishing it off.

Crêpes Polonaises
Makes about 18 crêpes; would probably serve about 6 for breakfast and about 10 for dessert.

Crêpe batter:
3 eggs
50 g. (1/4 c.) sugar
Pinch salt
1/2 liter (2 c.) milk
300 g. {10.6 oz.; about 2 c.) flour—I used about 1/3 whole wheat pastry flour
25 g. (2 T.) melted butter
More butter for frying the crêpes
More sugar for sprinkling

Filling:
50 g. (about 1/3 c.) raisins—I used golden raisins
a shot glass full of rum
200 g. (7 oz.; a scant cup) fromage blanc (I used homemade ricotta; you could also use cottage cheese that’s been puréed in the food processor for about a minute)
3 T. cream or sour cream (really crème fraîche, but I can’t get that here)
100 g. (1/2 c.) sugar
2 egg yolks
pinch salt
1/2 t. vanilla (not in the recipe, but pretty good anyway)

For the crêpe batter, put the eggs, sugar, salt, and milk in the blender. Blend it for a few seconds, then add the flour and melted butter and give it another few seconds until it’s smooth. Let the batter sit for at least half an hour.
For the filling: Soak the raisins in the rum for at least half an hour. Use a mixer or a food processor to mix the cheese, cream, sugar, egg yolks, salt, and vanilla; fold in the raisins. Chill until the crêpes are ready.
Now it’s time to cook the crêpes. Heat up an 8-inch skillet. Take a stick of butter out of the fridge and unwrap about the bottom fourth. Hold it by the paper and swirl it around the pan to butter it. Now pour in about 1/4 cup of batter and swirl it around the pan. Get out your pancake turner and start scraping at the edges. When you start seeing the bubbles popping at the top of the crêpe, do your best to flip that baby. Give it another 30 seconds and it will be done. Repeat this procedure until you’re out of batter (although the batter will keep for a while in the fridge if you get tired of making crêpes and just want a drink). If your name’s not Sami and you’re not from France, you’ll probably have to make 2-3 crêpes “for the cook” before you get it just right.
Now turn on your broiler. When your crêpes are done, spread each one with a large spoonful of the cheese filling, fold into quarters, and put it on a baking sheet. Sprinkle the crêpes with about a tablespoon of sugar and run them under the broiler for a few minutes until the sugar caramelizes and the crêpes get all crispy. This process also makes me feel better about those raw egg yolks ☺. Enjoy, perhaps with another shot glass full of rum.