Spinach and Asparagus Pasta with Chorizo

Do you ever have one of those moments where something comes out nothing at all like you planned?
Yeah. Me too.

This dish, in fact, is the result of one of those moments.

Now, nominally, this was supposed to be "Lasagna with Asparagus and Chives", based on the latest Martha Schulman entry on the New York Times.

But, as you'll probably notice in the picture above, there's a stunning lack of lasagna noodles. And also chives. Trust me on this one. Chives feature nowhere in the above picture.

You see, I'm not usually a lasagna person. It's usually way too dense and rich and overwhelming (and usually with way too much tomato sauce, but let's not open that particular can of worms at the moment). But when I saw this version, I thought "This is a lasagna I can get behind". It looked light and summery with not too much sauce (no tomatoes in sight! Just a nice light ricotta) and perfect for a Sunday dinner. This plan was made all the better as I even had (or at least thought I had) lasagna noodles already in my cupboard.

So off I trundled to Tesco, picking up the few things the recipe called for. Asparagus? Check. Basil? Why not? Ricotta? Sure! Why not throw in some spinach, just to be fun and daring? Chives? Well, alas, Tesco was out of chives, but as I had already collected my basil, I thought its absence surely wouldn't hurt anything. And that was all. I proudly walked right past the pasta section, confident in my well-stocked cupboard.

Well, I'm sure you can see where this is heading. To my surprise (and dismay), as I rooted around in my seemingly-lasagnaless pantry, I remembered I had thrown out my noodles some months back when an ant colony had decided to take up residence in our kitchen. While thankfully the ants were now gone, unfortunately so too were my lasagna noodles. Which, it seemed, were basic prerequisites for a lasagna.

No matter. I had other types of pasta. It would serve. And it did! Actually, the whole dish worked out quite well. The ricotta sauce as advocated by Martha Schulman served just as well on non-lasagna noodles (as one would expect) and combined with shredded basil, raw spinach, and some chorizo thrown in for good measure, it was a dish that was surprisingly more-ish.

So thus, while I can claim inspiration by the inimitable Recipes for Health, I have to call this recipe an original.


Ingredients

1 pound asparagus, trimmed

1/2 cup ricotta

2 garlic clovse, finely minced or (preferably) pureed

3 tablespoons chopped basil

1 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 pound lumache pasta

1/4 cup (1 ounce) freshly grated Parmesan or pecorino romano (or a combination)

1 bag, washed spinach

1/2 tsp each of red pepper flakes, oregano, thyme, and rosemary

6 ounces Spanish chorizo, diced

Method

Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil, salt generously and add the asparagus. Meanwhile, fill a bowl with cold water. Boil thin stalks for three minutes, thicker stalks for four to six minutes until tender. Using tongs, remove the asparagus from the pot and transfer to the bowl of cold water. Drain and cut on the diagonal into 3/4-inch lengths.

Add the pasta to the boiling water, and boil until cooked al dente -- firm to the bite. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the ricotta with the oil, garlic, and spices. When the noodles are done, remove 1/2 cup of the pasta water, and add to the bowl with the ricotta. Mix together well. In a large bowl, add the spinach and the asparagus, basil and Parmesan or pecorino to the bowl. Mix the ricotta mixture into the spinach and asparagus. Drain the lasagna, and toss with everything. Serve at once.

Yield: Serves four.

Skillet-Baked Asparagus and Eggs

It took me some time to get on the asparagus bandwagon. In Arizona, where seasons are practically non-existent (unless you count hot and, well, hotter), one doesn't grow up with the amazing produce which summer is associated with in most of the rest of the world.
While our plants and trees withered and died in the ever-increasing temperatures of May, June, and July, the rest of the world was feasting on summer produce. So I never realized just how thankful you can be, after the dregs of winter (what, another butternut squash dish?), that you now have an entirely different and varied repertoire of vegetables to play with in terms of cooking.

And thus, asparagus. The summer vegetable loathed by children the world over. I was no different. They looked like trees and if you overcooked them, well, they were a mushy mess. No. Thank. You.

But, done right, they're amazing. I mean, really amazing. And paired with eggs? Game over. I'm not sure what it is about the two that make them perfect for each other, but you can literally put almost any egg dish with a properly roasted asparagus or two, and you have perfection on a plate. Trust me, the NY Times devoted an entire article to it. It's that good.

And thus I present skillet-baked asparagus and eggs. If I hadn't sold this meal enough on just the virtues of asparagus and eggs alone, this is also a one pot dish. Roast asparagus. Add eggs (and a touch of cream). Stick in oven. Eat. Simple as pie.

Ingredients

3 tablespoons olive oil, more for drizzling
3/4 pounds asparagus trimmed and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 scallions, white and light green parts, thinly sliced
8 large eggs
6 tablespoons roughly chopped soft herbs like basil, cilantro, chives or parsley (use at least 2, I used basil, cilantro, and parsley, which was an absolute win: don't hesitate to add the herbs liberally.)
1/3 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Lemon wedges, for serving
Flaky sea salt for sprinkling.

Method

Heat the oven to 300 degrees. In a large skillet over medium heat, warm the olive oil until shimmering. Add the asparagus and the scallions and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until asparagus is browned and tender.

Whisk together the eggs, 4 tablespoons of the herbs, and cream. Whisk in Parmesan, salt and pepper. Pour the egg mixture over asparagus and place the skillet in the oven.

Bake for about 17- 20 minutes, until set, but still slightly jiggly in the center. Cool in the pan for about 10 minutes before serving. It is best warm, not hot.

Squeeze one or two lemon wedges over it, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with flaky sea salt and remaining herbs. Cut into wedges.

Yield: 4 servings.

Asparagus with Scallops and Black Beans

Well, it's official. It's asparagus season. Now you can't move for the green stalks of veggie delight. Unlike so many other items that you can now buy 12 months out of the year, I think asparagus has retained its hold as the fleeting food of summer. Like strawberries, you have to appreciate it while it's here, for it before you know, it'll be gone. 

So in honor of summer (well, late spring) and the joys of warmer weather, I decided to invest in the asparagus craze. As it is such a fleeting food, I've never felt comfortable cooking it. Asparagus is notoriously easy to overcook and there is the ever-increasing threat that you might end up with limp, bland stalks, at which any self-respecting 10 year old would balk. Keeping them nice and crisp is always a challenge. But, as always, Bittman to the rescue. Stir-fried with black beans and scallops, this recipe took about 10 minutes to do and was a perfect way to usher in spring. 

I thought, living in a multi-cultural hub of activity, buying the fermented black beans would be a piece of cake. On my road there are no less than four different Asian groceries. And so, heart in hand, I went off to each one, asking about the ingredient. No luck. No one seemed to have the faintest idea what I was talking about. In one store I was cautiously show the "beans" aisle, which indeed have black beans, but in the most standard dried variety. I felt absurd asking the kind and obliging shopkeeper (whose English was about at the same level as my Mandarin) if they had any beans that were..."Well, you know, fermented. Old. Do you have any old beans?"

No, silly woman. Why would we have old beans?

Sigh. There was no way of explaining this. I had a sneaking suspicion that the item that I was looking for was the equivalent of butter or sugar in an Asian market and was sitting front and center on the shelves. But no matter how I tried explaining it, I just ended up looking more ridiculous in front of the shopkeeper who was probably wondering why this bizarre American wanted "old beans" from his shop.

So I left. And marched straight into Tesco and, with a heavy heart, bought some "Asian black bean stir-fry sauce", which proudly proclaimed on the package to have "real pan-Asian flavors". 

Fabulous.

The moral of this story? If you either a) know Mandarin or b) have a reputable fermented black bean source, have a blast with the original version of this recipe. I was forced down the stir fry sauce road with this one, but I can't *really* complain, as the dish turned out to be delicious anyway.
Ah well, time to brush up on those language skills...

Ingredients
1 1/2 lbs of asparagus
2 tbsp toasted sesame oil
1 tbsp fermented black beans (or, see story above, 3 tbsp black bean stir fry sauce)
3 tbsp white wine
1 tbsp minced garlic
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp water
1/2-1 lb scallops
Optional: Chopped chives and/or toasted nori (seaweed)

Method
Heat 2 tbsp sesame oil in a large pan. Soak 1 tablespoon fermented black beans in sake or white wine to cover while pan heats (or simply combined the stir fry sauce with the white wine). Add asparagus and minced garlic. Cook until the asparagus looks dry and is starting to brown. Combine soy sauce with water and add to pan.  Add black beans and 1/2 pound sliced or cubed scallops to pan along with soy sauce and water. Cook for about five minutes or until the asparagus is still firm to the touch but tender.
Garnish: Chopped chives and/or toasted nori.