Many people adore snap peas but I’m lukewarm about them. I
associate them with commercially packaged crudite packages filled with raw
broccoli and cauliflower florets, and unreal capsule-shape carrots, all
surrounding a tub of dressing/dip. Then there were 1990s, when I ‘discovered’
snap peas and cooked them whole on high heat, thinking I’d replicate the glamorous
dishes found at restaurants and in magazine photos. I was consistently
disappointed by the slippery green pods that were cute but hard to chase around
the plate, especially with chopsticks.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a snap pea turnaround at La Posta,
a nice Cal-Italian restaurant in Santa Cruz. We ordered a side (contorni) of
snap peas and squash with lovage (an herb) and ricotta salata (dryish, lightly
salted ricotta). It sounded unusual and it tasted surprisingly good, mostly
because of the way the snap peas were cut (into small pieces) and cooked
(seared on high heat till they got some color). It wasn’t the most beautiful
dish because the snap peas were an olive green, but the cooking method turned
the snap pea into a serious vegetable, one with complexity that went beyond its
mere snappiness.
We are having a wonderful warm spell in Northern California. It's flip-flops and t-shirt sans jacket weather. People
are firing up their grills in the neighborhood. Whenever we’re out for a walk
to the grocery store, we sniff the cooking food smells and try to identify what
people are making. Steak? Salmon? Burgers? Or some long-smoked meats? The live
fire cooking stirs my senses and I conjure up imaginary menus. What would I
serve with what they’re cooking?
I always plan meals to include the various food groups, but
with a healthy emphasis on vegetables. And with all the grilling going on right
now, my thoughts lean toward Vietnamese salads. They’re flexible dishes that
may be a served on their own or be a friendly side offering to go with a hunk
of grilled something. There are many salad and side recipes in books I’ve
written, but to add to your collection, I reached back into the VWK archives to
select some refreshing ones:
Although I had my first raw kale salad years ago in the form
of a kale Caesar at a restaurant in Berkeley, it’s taken me until this now to
make it myself. Raw kale salads haven’t appealed to me as much as they have to
others for the sole reason that most of the kale sold has had tough, super curly
leaves. Salads made from that kind of kale are like chewing on a wet Brillo
pads. I know that raw kale is a super good-for-you food but how much of it can
I really eat to be ‘healthy’? Not much. Kale, I thought, was best boiled,
simmered, or sauteed. Well, until now.
We’ve been making an Asian style kale and seaweed salad once
a week for a couple of months. The switch happened when I noticed that our farmer’s
markets were loaded with kale whose leaves were soft, ruffly (not curly) and
practically velvet-feeling. Local farmers were selling 2 bunches of organic
kale for $3 and of course, I had to strike. The vendor I queried didn’t know
what variety it was but vouched for the leaves as being extra suitable for raw
kale salads. So I gave it a whirl.
I’ve been making very simple foods for the past week, mostly
because my days of recipe testing and writing have been very full, often
extending till 11 p.m. when I collapse into bed. That kind of work schedule
doesn’t permit elaborate cooking.
By late afternoon, the kitchen can look like
something exploded. After tidying up, my husband and I usually take a daily
walk to buy groceries for dinner. Some days, that’s the only time I leave my
house so I relish the chance to stretch my legs and breathe extra fresh air. It’s
also an opportunity to ponder dinner.
Local farmers grow some spectacularly tasty broccoli and
broccolini, which are sold at weekly farmer’s markets as well as independent
grocery stores. My default preparations are to briefly boil broccoli in lots of
salted water (steaming tends to unevenly cook the vegetable), stir-fry broccoli
with a little meat, or employ it in Chinese-style noodle soups. Here are a couple of past recipes on VWK that involve broccoli:
Do you ever make something with the best intention and then
shove it to the back of the fridge only to forget about it? That’s what
happened to me and a jar of Chinese hot and sour napa cabbage. I’d made it
around Chinese New Year and at the last minute, decided to not serve it because
it didn’t go with the Vietnamese pickles that I’d prepared. I put it away, only to rediscover it months
later this afternoon. It tasted fine and I ended up snacking on about a quarter
of the jar before dinner. It’s suppose to be a palate arouser.
This is an unusual pickle for a couple of reasons. It’s
tangy and spicy from the seasonings and the cabbage is salted and squeezed to
eliminate excess moisture. Those are pretty standard approaches but there’s a
stir-frying process involved which adds a touch of oil. The result is fatty
tasting and luscious.
We don’t tend to think of pickles as being rich but the
Chinese figured out a way to imbue that quality into humble napa cabbage. I was
totally impressed after I initially made the pickled cabbage, but even more so
months later when I found in the back of the fridge. Despite the chiles and
ginger, this is no kimchi as there’s no fermentation. Just a friendly pickle.
