Best of The Best

Okay, here I am. I havent just been sulking, Ive been crazy busy.

As soon as I stopped posting, the weather improved and weve been in the garden almost non-stop ever since. We are still way, way behind where we would like to be. Ill post about that a bit later.

Meanwhile, this is something Ive been playing around with this spring. As you see, its pretty flexible. Almost all the measurements are fairly approximate, and you should emphasize whatever elements you like. In particular, the cheese you use will make a difference. Ive mostly been using some nice creamy chevre, but any soft cheese should do. The spinach gives it more body than a regular pesto, so it can go on thicker too. Some sliced asparagus added to the pasta at the end of the cooking would go well.

I would have liked to use some wild leeks (ramps) in this, but I havent seen any around here this spring. I haz a sad; the world is plainly going to hell in a handbasket. I know, I know; shut up already, and eat.

4 servings
20 minutes prep time


450 to 500 grams (1 pound) dry pasta

6 to 8 cups spinach
1 1/2 to 2 cups chopped onion greens
2 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup sunflower, pumpkin or nut seeds
1 to 2 tablespoons rubbed basil
1/2 teaspoon crushed black peppercorns
salt as required - depends on the cheese!
150 to 200 grams soft creamy cheese
1/4 to 1/3 cup light cream or chicken broth

a little grated Parmesan to serve over the top

Put a large pot of salted water on to cook for the pasta.

Wash and pick over the spinach, and rinse it again. Drain well, and chop coarsely.

Wash and trim the onion greens. You can use onion tops, wild leeks, garlic tops, leeks, chives; whatever greeny oniony stuff you can get your hands on. Again, chop them coarsely.

Heat the butter in a large skillet, and cook the onions until soft. Add the well-drained spinach and cook it down. Meanwhile, put the basil and cheese into the bowl of a food processor. When the spinach is soft and completely wilted, add the spinach and onions to the food processor, and whizz until well chopped. Add the cheese, and process again. Add the cream or broth, to make a loose, flowing but not liquidy sauce. Taste, and adjust the salt.

Toss the cooked, drained pasta with the sauce. If you are cooking capellini, it should not go into the boiling water to cook until the sauce is ready. If you are cooking regular pasta, done in the 9 to 11 minute range, the pasta should go in to cook as soon as the onions go into the pan with the butter.




Last year at this time I made Pizza with Asparagus, Mushrooms, Fiddleheads & Ramps, and Fried Onion Rings.

2Tbs olive oil

2 boneless,skinless chicken breasts

1 carrot, sliced diagonally

1 pkg frozen brocoli

2 cloves garlic, minced

12 oz angel hair pasta

2/3 c. chicken broth

1 tsp. dried basil

1/4 c. grated parmesan or motzerella cheese



Cook chicken in 1. Tbsp oil then remove from skillet. Heat remaining oil. Add carrot to skillet, cook 4 min. Add brocolli and garlic. Cook 2 min longer. To skilllet, add chicken broth, basil and cheese. Return to skillet. Reduce heat and simmer 5 min. place over cooked pasta....enjoy!



RECIPE BY KARLA

p.s. my toddler LOVED this!

Lemon Pasta Salad for Summer

To speak about something as prosaic as pasta salad seems downright ho-hum. I mean. It's just a pasta salad. It's something I tossed together with stuff I had on hand. I hadn't planned on it. I didn't spend days contemplating the ins and outs and quirks of gluten-free brown rice penne. In fact, if I'm being unabashedly honest here I rarely think about food at all.

Until I'm hungry.


Until those familiar, nagging pangs begin gnawing their pesky little way into my consciousness, distracting me from my preferred, visual nomenclature- which rarely includes anything edible.

I daydream about paint, the plight of bees, and Clint Mansell's score for Moon. I notice the temperature of light and the curve of negative space against a jar of old spoons. I think about expectations and illusions and perceptions. I ponder where my soul is taking me, tugging at me to pay attention to my life, inviting me through dreams and the random snippets of music or ideas or theories that skitter and skate and ripple the mental stream I wade in day after day, to consider time itself- if I believe in it- sliding by in a cool constant flow of now.

I rarely eat breakfast. I often forget lunch. And dinner time always surprises me. As if each day takes figuring out all over again how to live (to paraphrase the Deadwood Zen master David Milch).

This doesn't mean I don't appreciate good food. Or that I hate to cook (well, some days I am less than enthusiastic). I loathe junk food and processed food. I can't take credit for this- it's simply the way I'm built, the way my body so pointedly rejects any easy, packaged fix.

Even before I discovered gluten intolerance and FODMAPs I knew on some instinctual level that in order to keep this body of mine healthy and strong for the here and now I have to pay it some attention. I know I have to eat. And eat consciously.

And so I find myself rummaging in the little white painted cupboard that is my pantry.

And I find a box of brown rice penne.

In the fridge I locate a fistful of spring asparagus.

One lemon.

A few sprigs of dill, marjoram, parsley and mint.

The rest is history.

Now in my belly.

Fuel for instigating thoughts of rebirth, fragility, and the particular pink that is ranunculus.


Read more + get the recipe >>