Category: friends

Love in the Transitions: Vanilla Cupcakes with Pomegranate Cream Filling and Marshmallow Frosting

Vanilla Cupcakes with Pomegranate Cream Filling and Marshmallow Frosting

Phew. That’s a mouthful, that title, but isn’t it just the way? Sometimes you’re so full up of things there’s no way to be brief.

These were created for my a good friend in The Menopause Supper Club. We meet once a month to talk about the next stage of life, and we are all in various places along that line. She is officially done with the Red Tide, and it’s time to celebrate swimming to the other side.

But transitions aren’t usually easy, and we need to love our people hard through them. My way is The Way of the Cake, applied liberally and often.

So whether you’re celebrating a transition or struggling through it, these are for you.

Vanilla Cupcakes with Pomegranate Cream Filling and Marshmallow Frosting

Vanilla Cupcakes

350 grams (about 2 1/2 c.) gluten-free all-purpose flour mix (or cake flour if gluten isn’t an issue)

1 tablespoon baking powder

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup butter (one stick), softened

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

310 grams (about 1 1/4 c.) sugar

2 eggs

1 cup milk (non-dairy works here — I use oat milk often — but don’t use skim)

Method

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Use 24 cupcake liners in two pans (this recipe makes two dozen cupcakes)

In a small bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, and salt.

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or a large bowl with hand mixer), cream butter with sugar and vanilla extract. Beat in eggs, one at a time, until smooth. Add dry ingredients and milk, starting and ending with dry (flour, milk, flour, milk, flour).

Add 3 tablespoons of batter to each cupcake liner (I use a 3T cookie scoop). Bake for 20-25 minutes. Remove and let cool completely in the pan before proceeding.

These can also be frozen at this point or frosted with ready-made frosting if you like.

Pomegranate Cream Filling

4 ounces softened cream cheese (full fat. Please.)

3/4 cup sifted powdered sugar

2 tablespoons pomegranate molasses (see Recipe Notes)

1/2 cup heavy whipping cream

Method

Chill a wire whisk or the beaters of a handheld mixer before you begin.

Place cream cheese, powdered sugar, and pomegranate syrup in the bowl of a stand mixer (or a mixing bowl if using handheld beater). Cream together until blended and smooth, then slowly add heavy cream as you beat until fluffy. This might take awhile, so be patient.

Store this in the fridge while you prepare the frosting.

Marshmallow frosting

250 grams (approximately 2 cups) powdered sugar

1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

2 teaspoons light corn syrup

2 egg whites

1/4 cup water

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Method

Add ingredients to a medium metal bowl and whisk to combine. Place metal bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and beat with a hand mixer on medium until the mixture begins to thicken (like marshmallow Fluff). Continue to beat on high until mixture stiffens (stiff peaks). This whole process takes 10-15 minutes.

Remove from heat and add vanilla. Continue to beat the frosting until it is completely cool.

Assembly

Start by cutting a divot out of the center of each cupcake. Do this by inserting a paring knife at a diagonal into the top of the cupcake and twirling to remove a cone of cake. Lop off the pointy end and set the now-flat top aside.

You can use a teaspoon to put cream into the center of each cupcake (easiest and what I did), or make a DIY piping bag. Place pomegranate cream filling in a ziploc and seal it. Cut off one corner and pipe filling into your cupcake. Top with the flat piece of cake you removed.

Frost with a liberal hand using a piping bag with the tip of your choice if you’re fancy, or use a knife and swirl away (again, easiest and what I did).

You can sprinkle with a little coconut if that’s your jam, or break out the blowtorch and add a little toastiness to the top. The smoky flavor pairs well with all of the other flavors.

Recipe Notes

Every component of these cupcakes doubles easily.

You can reduce a cup of pomegranate juice down to 1/4 or 1/2 cup and use that instead of molasses. You can also add another tablespoon of pomegranate molasses for a really punchy filling.

If you’d like a less-sweet cupcake, skip the marshmallow and slice each cupcake in half horizontally. Fill with pomegranate cream and put it together like a sandwich.

Snacks On A Birthday: Blistered Shishito Pimento Cheese

Khristian Weeks (l.), the birthday boy, pictured here with his collaborative partner, Peter.

So it’s October 1st, and it’s Khristian’s birthday.

This is a short blog with something delicious, easy, and celebratory. I like to make Bon Appetit’s seedy oat crackers to serve this with, but seriously. You could eat this any old way and be perfectly happy.

And in other news, this will be the last post here for a bit. I have some other things to focus on, and I may shift away from maintaining a food blog. I will keep cooking and posting recipes on Instagram (@charmcityedibles), so go on over there and follow along.

In the meantime, make this for someone you love.

Blistered Shishito Pimento Cheese
Use this as a dip with crackers or vegetables, or make a grilled cheese with it. Or any other way you might use an insanely delicious cheese dip.

Ingredients
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese (see Recipe Notes)
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
¼ to ½ cup mayonnaise (NOT Miracle Whip, for chrissakes)
½ teaspoon dry mustard
¼ to ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
½ teaspoon onion powder
½ cup chopped blistered (and cooled) shishito peppers (see Recipe Notes)
1 jalapeño pepper, diced fine
½ teaspoon celery seed

Method
Couldn’t be easier. Mix all of the above together and taste. Add more of what you like, going slowly with the spice.

Chill for at least a couple of hours before serving. Keeps for at least a week in the ‘fridge if it lasts that long.

Recipe Notes
• I like to shred my cheeses fine using a food processor, and I use a mix of white and orange cheddar, one extra sharp and one just sharp. This is largely a matter of preference, and I would actually prefer all white cheddar but most people think bright orange when they think of pimento cheese, and I like to give the people what they want.

• To blister shishito peppers, a cast-iron skillet is the tool of choice but not strictly necessary. Over medium-high heat, heat a tablespoon of oil in the frying pan of choice (I used non-stick), then toss the peppers (intact, with the stems on) in the oil. Season with salt and pepper and give a stir to coat with oil, then leave them alone for minutes at a time. You are looking for charring in spots, so let them sit. Toss after a couple of minutes, then let them sit. Peppers are done when they are tender-crisp with burnt looking parts. Remove from heat and squeeze a little lemon juice on them. Eat a bunch of them, but save six or seven for pimento cheese.

• You can also use a jar of pimentos, drained and chopped. I just happened to have shishitos.

You Are For Me: Honey Hopped Ice Cream With Salted Almond Toffee

beer ice cream
“Isn’t beer the holy libation of sincerity? The potion that dispels all hypocrisy, any charade of fine manners?” ~Milan Kundera~

I have always felt like I am too much and just not enough at the same time.

Perhaps not best to be writing this on the 11th anniversary of my father’s death, the 12th anniversary of my cousin Teddy’s death, and the day I am driving to a memorial for my uncle Jim who died late last week. Oh, and the last day of my daughter’s high school career (thank god), heading towards the first big milestone her father will miss (graduation).

But there you have it. The words come when they come.

As my friend Corey’s daughter J said to her the other day, “Oh my God, mom. Your feelings. They’re so big and there are so many of them. It’s exhausting.”

It is exhausting. For not only people around me but for me as well.

The constant background understanding that I am taking up too much space.

That my highs and lows are inconvenient and need to be explained away or apologized for.

That I can’t allow these strong feelings to pass through me or be processed out loud in the presence of anyone who might conceivably be offended, so I have to remove myself from people, even when it’s the exact opposite of what I need.

That sometimes I feel crushingly lonely, and the “just not enough” part kicks in to remind me exactly how worthless and unworthy I am in the first place, so what else did I expect?

Jesus. First-world, overprivileged, white-people problems, but goddamn. They still are real to me, daily present, and require constant negotiation and mediation in a brain that is already chock-a-block full of recriminations against its owner.

I have always felt outside of things – my family, my friends, the people I work with – and I don’t expect that to go away anytime soon.

I understand that I am not for everyone. Mostly it’s ok. The people I am for are with me for life. They get it.

This past weekend Khristian and I fled to the hills of West Virginia to our friends at Redwing Farm. I have known these people for nearly three decades. They have seen me through all of my iterations – safe to say they are for me. They were hosting a sleepover for their daughter’s birthday, a previously low-key affair that swelled from two kids to eight kids and potentially 20 adults staying for dinner in the space of just a few hours. One desperate text and 12 hours later, we were cresting the wooded driveway that leads to their house, there to offer moral support and help where we could.

We meant to come back in late summer anyway, not only for the company of Luke, Keveney, and Casey but also to pick the hops that twine their way up their porch railing. It had been a hard summer for the hops; although plentiful, many of them never quite opened. Still, as we left for home less than 24 hours after we arrived, I tucked a grocery bag full of them away in the car to play with at home.

Like me, this ice cream is not for everyone. It’s an unusual mix of flavors, and care must be taken to get the balance right. The first iteration was delicious but so bitter on the finish that it was impossible to eat, but this one manages to be smooth, sweet, and creamy, with a touch of citrus and salt and a definite hoppy vibe.

Honey Hopped Ice Cream With Salted Almond Toffee

Ingredients

Honey Hopped Ice Cream

2 cups whole milk

2 cups heavy cream

1/4 cup honey

1/2 cup fresh Cascade hops

6 egg yolks

pinch salt

1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

1/4 teaspoon almond extract

Salted Almond Toffee

(Annoying sidebar: you need a candy thermometer for this.)

1 1/2 cups unsalted toasted almonds, roughly chopped

1/2 stick butter

3/4 cup sugar

2 tablespoons water

1 teaspoon lemon juice

big pinch salt

Method

Make the ice cream: Heat milk, heavy cream, and honey in a heavy saucepan over medium heat until warm (look for small bubbles to appear around the edges of the pan). Remove from heat, add the hops, and cover. Steep for at least 20 minutes (taste. You should be able to taste the hops, but they should not make the back of your throat pucker.).

Strain hops out and return the milk to the saucepan. Bring back to a simmer (not boiling – look for the bubbles again).

Place egg yolks, lemon zest, and salt in a separate bowl and whisk well to combine.

Here is the tricky part, so go slow.

In a thin stream, gradually and slowly add the hot milk mixture to the egg, whisking vigorously. If you add it all at once you will end up with honey hopped scrambled eggs, which is truly disgusting.

Once the milk is added to the egg, place a strainer over the heavy saucepan and pour the mixture back into the saucepan. This catches any stray hop flowers (or scrambled egg).

Over low heat and stirring constantly, cook the mixture until it begins to thicken. You will know it is ready when it coats the back of a spoon (about ten minutes).

Remove from heat and strain again into a clean bowl, covering with plastic wrap that rests on the surface (so no skin forms). You can refrigerate this overnight (which Serious Eats says is best for flavor), or you can just cool it completely (about four hours) before churning according to your ice cream maker’s instructions.

Make the toffee: While your ice cream custard is chilling, make your salted almond toffee. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

Toast your almonds in a pan (or the oven) over low heat (or 350 degrees) until they begin to release their delicious, nutty aroma (between five and seven minutes, ish). Remove from pan (or oven) and allow to cool before chopping them roughly.

Place butter, sugar, water, lemon juice, and salt in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Clip your candy thermometer to the side of the saucepan. DO NOT STIR. Swirl gently as the ingredients melt, then watch carefully as the thermometer climbs to 300 degrees. NO MORE NO LESS.

Do not wander off. You will go from barely bubbling to burnt and bitter within seconds. #AskMeHowIKnow

Once you reach that temperature, remove from heat and add your chopped toasted almonds. Work quickly to combine, then pour onto parchment paper lined cookie sheet. Spread to about 1/4″ thick (or whatever. It doesn’t really matter, but it cools faster when it’s thinner). Allow to cool completely.

Place in a sealed plastic bag and beat the toffee with a rolling pin to break it up into little bits.

PUT THAT SHIT TOGETHER: In the last five minutes of churning, add the salted almond toffee to the ice cream.

Don’t overchurn, and allow to freeze following your ice cream maker’s instructions.

Enjoy with people who TOTALLY GET YOU.

 

 

Life Doesn’t Stand Up To Thinking: Roasted Beet Dip With Feta And Aleppo Pepper Crackers

“Life doesn’t stand up to thinking. Smell the air out there; there are wonders.”

Are You Here with Owen Wilson and Zach Galifianakis is an unexpectedly serious movie that tricked me into thinking it would be a light-hearted bromance when really it was a meditation on the uselessness of life.

Welcome to blog, first-time readers. #KeepComingBack

Galifianakis’s character is a bipolar paranoid schizophrenic who inherits everything after his father’s death but is too crazy to know what to do with it. When a troubled Amish boy who hears voices from God tells Galifianakis that God wants him to take his medicine, Galifianakis does. He realizes, quickly, that life is filled with no purpose and is pointless. His stepmother consoles him:

“Life doesn’t stand up to thinking. Smell the air out there; there are wonders.”

And that’s just how things go, right? There is really no point. Anyone who says they have figured out life isn’t thinking too hard. Mostly they are going along with what everyone else is doing and are reasonably satisfied with their life and just sort of sink into the idea that their life is what The Purpose of Life is.

Except that’s kind of bullshit.

There is no purpose. There are diversions, to be sure, and good things to get into, just like there are tragedies and overwhelming sadness and horrible people in the world.

There is no point. Life doesn’t just stand up to thinking.

If you can get from birth to death without hurting people on purpose while also voting every two years (and in special elections) and loving some people real good and maybe making something beautiful once or twice, then that’s pretty much it.

But still, this gives you no license to waste it. When the biology of schizophrenia begins to clear, Galifianakis says of his approach to life, “I wasted so much. I gobbled it all down without tasting it.”

It’s hard to know what “wasting” your life means, really. If you choose to not pursue money or status too lustily and to instead count the grains of sand on a beach or write or paint or work temp jobs or travel your whole life, many in the U.S. would call that “wasting your life.”

Add to the list of life-wasting things (at least in the culture of the U.S.):

  • Not going to college
  • Not having children
  • Not paying into retirement
  • Not buying a house
  • Not having a “career”
  • Not donating money or volunteering regularly

I am sure you can add some of your own. Anything that doesn’t fit the mold is often considered by someone as a “wasted” life. But consider, as one always should, Mary Oliver:

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean–
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

~The Summer Day~’

Indeed. Everything dies at last, and too soon.

Everything, from the bees to the flowers to the humans, will wilt, wither, and die in the sunshine or the snow. We are all of us just passing through.

This is, to me, a horribly debilitating and incredibly liberating understanding, all at once. We only get the one life that we know of, so there’s a ton of pressure to NOT FUCK IT UP.

But what the hell does that mean? And truly, who is keeping score? Who is the person who gets to tell us we are fucking it all up?

So there’s this idea, the liberated side of the Pointlessness of Life: do what you like.

Seriously.

Of course, not to the exclusion of caring for the children you foolishly brought into the world or hurting other people or otherwise being a douche.

But otherwise, why the hell not? Why not do what you like? You can’t take anything with you – even the memory of you will fade.

Spoiler alert: NO ONE WILL REMEMBER YOU, EVENTUALLY. And really? That’s just fine. Whatever mark we think we make will be erased in the unrelenting pressure of geologic time.

Life doesn’t stand up to thinking or reason, so just get out into the world and see what there is to see. And actually spend some time paying attention. It’s not about ticking boxes off a bucket list. It’s more about being present wherever you happen to be, placing yourself in the way of beauty and discovering what it feels like to experience awe.

Give it a shot. What the hell. We are all on our way out anyway.

You will, of course, need snacks.

This summer I am committed to the idea of what Sicily refers to as a “French Nibbler.” (TM) I have no idea where this name came from but it’s hilarious so I am using it and since this blog is in no way monetized and I have just given her credit I think we are all okay.

French Nibblers consist of finger-foodish things for dinner, set out on an appropriately beautiful, bespoke, foraged wooden board with period-authentic utensils for spreads and such.

That’s the Instagram bullshit. I am thinking more along the lines of whatever comes in the CSA, some homemade crackers, a few dips, some cured meats for the carnivores, and a couple cheeses. Serve with canned wine from Old Westminster Winery and snack on dinner as the sun goes down. Nothing to clean up, really, and no need to turn on the stove. You could pack all of it up and take it on a picnic, too. Something simple that doesn’t really require a ton of thought and satisfies all different types of people.

As with life, don’t gobble this down without tasting it.

Roasted Beet Dip With Feta And Aleppo Pepper Crackers

This recipe is the first of a series of dips. Adding this luscious, earthy, subtle, and complex spread to any French Nibbler gets you a double-plus Life Bonus. #SpendYourPointsWisely

Beet Dip Ingredients

4 beets (about the size of baseballs)

Pickling liquid: 1 cup water, 2/3 cup sugar, 1/3 cup vinegar

Peppercorns, a smattering (that’s a measurement)

4-6 sprigs thyme

2 whole cloves garlic, smashed to peel and left that way

1/2 cup toasted pecans

Cracked black pepper

4 ounces Feta cheese (plus more for serving)

2 tsp. champagne vinegar

Olive oil, good quality (Don’t. Skimp.)

Salt

Aleppo Pepper Crackers Ingredients

Everyday Crackers

ADD-INS: 1 tsp Aleppo pepper, 2 tsp sumac

Method

Okay, I lied. You do need to turn the oven on and use the stove, but just once. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Place two beets (washed but unpeeled), two smashed garlic cloves, and one sprig of thyme in aluminum foil. Drizzle with olive oil. Loosely close foil and place on baking sheet. Roast in oven until a fork easily pierces the beets (about 60 minutes). Remove from oven and cool.

Toast pecans using the residual heat from the oven. Place pecans on a baking sheet and place in hot, turned off oven. Check periodically and remove when they taste delicious (this time will vary, but it’s not rocket science. If they taste good, they are done).

While beets are roasting, peel remaining two beets and cut into matchsticks.

For god’s sake, use gloves. #YouWereWarned

Pack beets, peppercorns, and one sprig of thyme into a Mason jar.

In a saucepan over medium heat, bring pickling liquid ingredients to a boil. Pour over beets and let beets cool on the counter. Refrigerate.

Once roasted beets are cool, use a paper towel to rub the skin off the beet. Give up after a while and use a paring knife to peel the rest of the skin off. Cut into large chunks and place into a food processor. Add one (or both) cloves of roasted garlic, roasted pecans, 1 teaspoon of fresh thyme, 4 ounces of feta, and champagne vinegar. Process until smooth-ish. Add some best-quality olive oil to help it along. It need not be baby-food smooth.

Add salt and fresh cracked black pepper to taste, and adjust to your taste. Beets are not all the same, so they may need more or less sweetness or acid, a pinch or two more or less salt.

Remember your quick-pickled beets? Grab a handful of those and chop them roughly. Stir into your beet dip and also serve on the side. Top with more feta and maybe some chopped pecans if you have any left.

Make a batch of Everyday Crackers, using the Aleppo pepper and sumac as add-ins, or just buy some damn crackers. It’s not a contest. You will be fine.

Recipe notes

  • Substitutions: yellow beets or carrots even would work here. Rough carrots may benefit from the addition of honey.
  • You will be able to taste the olive oil, so really, use the best you can find/afford/have in your cabinet.
  • Whip up a batch of Toasted Cashew Hummus and be done with it (and really, the hero to all of your friends or whoever is joining you for dinner).
  • Use your leftover pickled beets as part of the French Nibbler or drape over burgers with goat cheese or in salads with chickpeas.

Tell me: what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

 

Striding Into The World: Grilled Asparagus With Sweet Fire Pickle Gribiche

Flying the friendly skies. TL:DR – check out the recipe video all the way at the bottom of this post.

It is my thing, I suppose, that I find silver cutlery in Baltimore. I have found ridiculous amounts of silverware in this city, for no apparent reason. I have asked around, and it’s fairly uncommon to find dining utensils that aren’t plastic lying about, and yet here I am with a drawer full of spoons, forks, and knives, some monogrammed, some heavy and high quality, and some the type of utensils you bring when you brown bag your lunch and don’t really care if someone in the office steals your fork.

A day before we left Amsterdam to return to the States, I realized that I had not found a fork or spoon or knife while visiting and started keeping my eyes out. Mind, in Baltimore, I don’t really have to look. They just appear. But I thought it might be swell to have a Dutch fork or some such.

No such luck. The closest I got was a neon green plastic spork resting, forlorn, in the middle of the bike lane.

But on my first trip out of the house on Sunday back home in Baltimore, on a jet-lagged walk up the street for late lunch, I looked down and found a fork.

If I were the sort of person who believed in signs (spoiler alert: I am, at least a little bit), I would be wondering what the hell it means that I have only in my entire life found silverware in Baltimore, and lots of it.

That the cutlery comes without me even looking.

That no one else I know has found silverware on the street.

That when I am thinking unrelated thoughts, like whether or not I should start cooking for people or if maybe I should move to Amsterdam, a fork or spoon pops up in my path in my city.

Or maybe it’s just how I walk through the world. In Baltimore, for better or for worse, I keep my head down or fixed on a point a few feet in front of me. It makes sense that my gaze would sweep up whatever is in my path.

In Amsterdam, I rarely looked down. Not only was the city itself beautiful when you look around (unlike Baltimore, if I am being honest, which I always try to be) but it was also challenging to not get run over by a bicycle.  There is no room for a downcast gaze.

But it’s more than that, I think, this notion of how a body walks through the world. My particular friend and I have had recent conflict about taking up space. He feels, rightly so, that there are many, many pushy assholes (my words but his meaning) walking about, and he does not want to be numbered among their ranks. He feels especially keenly the white maleness of himself and would rather disappear or defer than add to the pain and suffering that those of his ilk (white males) have inflicted upon pretty much everyone in the world.

I hear this. It’s one of the reasons I love him.

But then there is this: everyone has a right to space in this world. There is a way to claim your own space without infringing on the rights and space of others. Hiding our light under a bushel makes the world just a little bit darker. Not claiming our own space doesn’t make it any easier for others to claim their own. Indeed, if we can just step into the light of our own selves it somehow makes it easier to help others find their own. How? I don’t know. By example? By knowing what it feels like to feel fully your own self, without making excuses and feeling completely worthy of whatever comes your way and thus showing by your very existence the limitless possibility of this one life that we can remember?

Something along those lines.

Maybe finding cutlery on the street has nothing to do with that, though. Maybe I look down in Baltimore because this is where I am grounded; knowing that ample forks, knives, and spoons are waiting in the street maybe makes it easier for me to look up and around in the rest of the world. Maybe these eating utensils represent the basic needs that this city meets for me: food and shelter, a home base.

In a way, this is a comfort and a burden. Baltimore is a heavy weight. I love so much about this city while at the same time really hating so much as well. It’s dirty and oppressive to people of color and women. It is hospitable to artists as long as they know their place, and just two miles from where I live the life expectancy is a full 12 years less. The distance between the haves and the don’t-even-dream-of-havings gets even greater weekly as housing becomes unaffordable and the city’s schools and infrastructure begin to crumble. Many describe the city as “gritty” or “scrappy,” but it is, at times, painfully desperate.

This city is also the Orioles and Old Bay and Edgar Allen Poe and 1919 and my good friend Luke and my oldest friend Kerry. It’s a place where a thousand non-profits are working every day to make life better. It’s where Sicily and I came when Marietta and the memory of Dane was so painful that we needed comfort and friends and a break somewhere that was not demanding.

Really, though, how do we claim space on this planet? It seems our footprints are larger than our shadows, but even as much as I try to convince my particular friend to stride out into the world it’s a daily struggle for me to feel like anything more than an insignificant speck (which truly, that’s all we really are – dust, less than a blip in geologic time). Maybe the forks and the spoons and the knives are just the way I try to make meaning, much the same as anyone who does anything with any regularity. Maybe your 40-hour-a-week career is my street-flattened spoon.

Regardless of the manner in which we step into ourselves (and the world) fully, the one thing that I would like to import back to Baltimore from our recent trip to Amsterdam is the multi-course meal. In the U.S., we tend to equate multiple courses with special occasions and required suit jackets, but it seems in Europe that is just how meals go (my child spent a year in France and can verify that even weekday breakfast has courses). When we met Khristian’s friends Carla and Axel for dinner, they served us three courses:

  1. Grilled vegetables with burrata, tomatoes, and sardines
  2. Seared salmon
  3. Penne with grilled beef

All accompanied by wines to match and finished with a rich chocolate brownie.

Even though this seems extravagant for an everyday meal, the preparations were all very simple and delicious. We reclined over dinner, drinks, and good conversation for several hours. Perhaps this was something of an occasion, as Khristian had not seen these friends since 2004, but meals were like this wherever we went: long and multi-coursed.

In this spirit, and to humor those of you who are really craving spring, I offer this as an easy first course to add to a plain old weekday meal: Grilled Asparagus With Sweet Fire Pickle Gribiche.

Gribiche is traditionally a creamy French dressing/sauce made in the same manner as mayonnaise except with cooked egg yolks instead of raw. It keeps popping up for spring vegetables because it’s a delicious way to dress anything that comes out of the oven or off the grill. I think it’s probably one of the few things that can improve the already-perfect asparagus. I have made it here with sweet fire pickles; you can substitute a more traditional cornichon is that’s your jam. Other herbs traditionally used here can include chervil and tarragon. I have kept it simple with just flat-leaf parsley.

You don’t even need to use a fork for this; it’s perfectly acceptable even in polite company to pick up asparagus with your fingers. If you need one, though, I have several.

Grilled Asparagus With Sweet Fire Pickle Gribiche 

(serves 4)

Ingredients

2 – 4 tablespoons chopped Sweet Fire pickles (see Recipe Notes)
⅓ cup grapeseed oil
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon chopped drained capers
1 tablespoon whole grain mustard
Kosher salt, freshly ground pepper
3 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
2 tablespoons chopped parsley

1 pound asparagus (preferably grilled, but roasted works, too)

Method

It could not be easier to make gribiche: combine all ingredients in a bowl and stir well. The end. Spoon over grilled asparagus (or anything else, really).

To make eating easier, you can cut your grilled asparagus into 1″ bites and mix the gribiche in, but you will need a fork.

Recipe Notes

  • Sweet Fire pickles come from Georgia, as far as I am concerned. They are cucumbers pickled with sugar and jalapeños and they are pretty much the best thing ever. I got my last jar at Huck’s General Store in Blue Ridge, GA, but they seem to be online as well.
  • Traditionally this recipe uses cornichons, which are not at all sweet. I like the balance of sweet, sour, and spicy in this, but you could use cornichons instead. If you don’t have those, chop up some dill pickles and you’re all set.
  • Gribiche keeps in the ‘fridge for a couple days. Bring to room temp before serving. Good on roasted veg, chicken, duck, and meaty fish.

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