Spring out, sister
Has spring sprung where you are yet? It has in London, and it's glorious. To be fair, we're only just in the first week of April, and all of this magnificent life bursting forth comes at a price, as apparently the signals of seasonal change are now 26 days ahead of where they were a decade ago. So I suppose it's now March that's the cruellest month.
But still as I'm sitting here looking over the explosion of the greenest green in my new garden, I have to fight the urge to curl up and spend a solid Caturday nose-deep in my long-awaited copy of Tartine All Day.
Naturally, I cracked it open immediately and it was love at first sight. The earnest Elisabeth Prueitt has delivered a new reference book for the modern cook. In her foreward, she sets The Joy of Cooking as her north star, as it was for many of us experimenting in our first kitchens, its pages full of a-ha moments that turned our curiosity into capability through trial and error. And error. And error.
Her very first section on Basics hits this right on the nose, delivering a one-stop shop for recipes that I'm constantly looking up to get proportions right- things like romesco and chimichurri, but also an all-arounder Cream Cheese Dough for all manner of tarts and turnovers and rugelach. Pages have already been dog-eared.
While I'm excited to delve deeper into her thoughtful takes on savoury dishes and weeknight staples, Prueitt is a pastry hero first, and the real buzz around the book is its offering of a classic canon of baked goods re-engineered with alternative flours. While her MO may be motivated by her own (non-celiac) gluten sensitivity, as an experimental baker, I'm ecstatic to explore the world beyond AP, for healthfulness, sure, but also for diversity and imagination. I can't imagine being in better hands.
Meanwhile, I've been chugging along dutifully with my weekly dinner recipe boxes. Since Hamilton's away, the ginormous portions have had me covered for a substantial dinner and a leftover lunch the next day. Last night I whipped up a bowl of soba noodles and chicken with mushrooms and spring greens in a gingery brown miso broth, topped with some fresh red chili for kick. This week I'm probably a little too excited to roast the season's first asparagus for a hefty dinner salad of barley, sheep's cheese, and hazelnuts. I'm gonna put an egg on it. Oh yeah, also ramps are here. RAAAAMMMMMMPPPPPSSSSS!!!!!!!!!
Like literally everyone*, I'm making an effort to eat light and fresh and healthy meals. To be honest, this isn't that much of a challenge, since I cook regularly, don't use packaged ingredients, and love vegetables more than the average person. It's laziness, or rather busyness that destroys my best intentions. Well, that and potato chips. Lately, I've become one of those smoothie bowl people. You know- neon greens or blues with an artfully arranged tableau of like forty different toppings, from granola to goji berries. I have managed to resisted the urge to Instagram my every breakfast, but goddam if they're not straight up follower bait.
So, you're welcome.
It had never occurred to me to put a smoothie in a bowl before but I'm now a convert, because it actually makes a lot of sense. I'd just drink a smoothie and feel pretty smug about my sensible choice of morning fuel, but then I'd be sniffing around for some buttered toast like 30 minutes later. With my current bowl of choice (half an avocado, a bunch of frozen blueberries, about a quarter of a cup of raw oats with a dash of cinnamon and salt, maybe a chopped date or a drop of maple syrup, blended with hazelnut milk and topped with bee pollen, I know, I know), blammo, I'm good til lunch.
But everything in moderation including moderation, right? It's a short week ahead with two (!!!) bank holidays over the Easter weekend, so I'm thinking about how I'm going to treat myself. On Thursday, I'm heading out to a très East London spot, the Paradise Garage to spend the evening gabbing over cocktails with two gals from the office. The menu is, of course, seasonal and British, so I'm currently eyeing items like the seemingly humble starter of carrots, sunflower seeds and elderberry capers (???), expecting an elegant twist on something quite simple. Or, the charred venison tartare could be good...
I think I'll spend Friday afternoon shopping around town, and then I'm off to the theatre in the evening, to catch "Rosencrantz and Guidenstern are Dead," for my first visit to the Old Vic. PS this happens to star Daniel Radcliffe, which is cool I guess. And while Saturday plans are still undecided- maybe a jaunt out to the seaside at Brighton?- on Sunday, I'm going to get dolled up in my finery and take myself out to a fancy Easter lunch at the incredibly swoon-worthy Spring, at Somerset House. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to the millennial pink cover of chef Skye Gyngell's restaurant cookbook last year. Indeed the recipes are invocations of the season they celebrate- spinach, wild herbs, and goat's curd; butterflied lamb with roasted beetroot and carrots. The food looks beautiful, stunning in its simplicity. I'm looking forward to an indulgent afternoon, celebrating a year of life in London, and springing ahead.
And because I love nothing more than holiday traditions, this afternoon I'm planning a cheeky bake of some hot cross buns to share with my team on Monday morning. I've made these a few times, and I've found thus far that the recipes beloved by the Brits tend towards the dense, and often leaden. You could lob one of these buns like a softball. So I'm gonna lighten things up a bit, using the old faithful MC Brioche recipe as a base, and still folding through the traditional additions of sultanas and orange peel, maybe I'll throw in a little candied ginger. One a-penny, two a-penny, etc, etc.
*Can we just take a second to acknowledge that I scooped the NY Times by several weeks, when, in Robust #2 I wrote about the chefs on the bleeding edge of this healthy-ish zeitgeist. Go ahead and do a little side-by-side comparison, will you? Ahem!