Artichokes are kind of ridiculous. Hard to prep, hard to clean, and even hard to eat. I mean, they’re thistles, humans probably shouldn’t be eating them at all. Most of the year, I am content with eating artichoke hearts from jars or freezer bags or minced up in dip, but about once every spring I get itchy for the real thing.

So I go to the store, pick out a few deceptively pretty bulbs and inevitably stab myself in the process. Then I drop them into one of those flimsy produce bags because I forgot my reusable ones and one of the thorns almost rips the bag open as I’m twisting it shut. They go in the cart, gingerly.

At home, I stab myself again on the thorns as I’m trying to wrestle the tops off with my sharpest vegetable cleaver. I forget to prepare a bowl of lemon water until at least two of my artichokes are hopelessly brown. Peel the veiny bits from the stems, snip off the thorns that can’t be reasonably reached by the cleaver one by one, hack each choke in half, and scrape out the furry bits with a spoon. Every bit of this process is obnoxious, but I think it makes conquering them a bit more satisfying.

I like mine twice cooked, once with water either in a steamer basket or just the bottom of a microwavable bowl covered in wrap until they are tender, and once with a dab of oil and a hot grill pan for some extra flavor. Then it’s all about dismantling, with some kind of flavorful dip (garlic lemon aioli for me) and savoring that hard-won tender heart. Scratch the itch and I’m good for another year.

Grilled Artichokes with Lemon Aioli

Ingredients:
-artichokes, one per person
-olive oil
-about 1/2 cup of your favorite mayo (2 tablespoons per person)
-1 clove of garlic, grated or minced
-juice from 1 lemon, divided (half for lemon water to soak artichokes, half for aioli)
-kosher or sea salt and pepper, to taste

Method:
1. Start by prepping your artichokes. Get a large bowl of water ready with the juice of 1/2 lemon to stop the artichokes from browning once they are cut. Then trim the stems and peel away any fibrous stringy bits with a vegetable peeler. Using your sharpest knife, cut off the tops of the artichokes where most of the thorns are. Then use kitchen scissors to trim the thorns off of the leaves on the outside of each artichoke. Use your knife to cut each artichoke in half and use a spoon to scrape out all of the fuzz above the heart.

2. After scraping the fuzzy bits out of the artichoke halves, drop them in your prepared lemon water. Work your fingers between the leaves to clean out any dirt that may be hiding.

3. Steam your artichokes in a pot with a steamer basket for 30-45 minutes or in a large, microwave-safe bowl with a bit of water in the bottom for 10-15 minutes or until tender (test for tenderness with a small knife inserted at the base of the artichoke).

4. Remove artichokes from steamer bowl or pot, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt. Grill cut-side down on a grill pan set over high heat or on an outdoor grill over medium heat until the artichokes are nicely marked.

5. Make your aioli by stirring together mayo, garlic, lemon, salt, and pepper. Adjust seasoning to taste and serve with the artichokes.

I’ve recently learned that dill is a polarizing herb. The circles I run in are upsettingly full of people who don’t care for dill one bit, which I don’t understand. Personally, I love the stuff, and I’ll work it into recipes where it probably doesn’t belong just because I can. Dill is just so fresh tasting and springy, which is why I decided this spring pea soup should have lots of it, though the addition of dill means Cody won’t be interested. So, more soup for me.

This is like a springtime appropriate nod to (deconstructed) split pea soup. It comes together ridiculously quickly (like 15 minutes tops) and it pairs perfectly with the smoky American prosciutto I found, draped over fluffy ricotta and barely drizzled with honey. You can use Italian prosciutto if you like here, but if you can find American smoked prosciutto, it’s really good. Another acceptable sub would just be smoked ham or crispy smoky bacon.

I say dill with it.

Lemon and Dill Pea Soup with Prosciutto and Ricotta Tartines

Ingredients:

-2 tablespoons butter
-1 onion, diced
-2 cloves garlic, minced
-2 cups vegetable or chicken broth
-1 16-oz bag frozen peas
-1/3 cup heavy cream
-juice of about 1/2 lemon
-1 tablespoon fresh dill, chopped
-1/4 tsp white pepper
-salt, to taste
-crusty french bread, sliced
-whole milk ricotta cheese
-prosciutto (1-2 slices per person)
-tiny drizzle of honey

Method:

1. Sauté onion and garlic in butter in a pot over medium heat, until the onions are translucent, then add the broth and peas (straight from the freezer is fine).

2. Bring the soup to a simmer and then turn the heat to low. Using a hand blender, blend the soup until it’s as smooth as you like.

3. Add cream, lemon, dill, white pepper, and salt. Taste and add more salt as needed. If you want your soup to be thinner, add more broth or cream.

4. Keep your soup on low heat while you assemble your tartines. Start by toasting slices of your bread, then top with a few scoops of plain ricotta, a sprinkle of salt, a piece of prosciutto (torn into a few pieces so you can bite it without taking the entire sheet of prosciutto) and the tiniest drizzle of honey.

5. Serve the soup with extra dill, lemon, and/or cream and a tartine.

I am, right this minute, on the trip I’ve been waiting for my whole entire life. I’m in Europe! Finally! And while I would have been happy to go absolutely anywhere in Europe, I feel most especially privileged to visit the one place whose food I’ve fantasized about for (probably) decades: France. We’ll be starting in Geneva, actually, for some alps-y views and nerdy tours, not to mention a small pilgrimage to the town of Gruyere (for cheeeeeeese). And then, we will go to Paris, where we will do all of the obvious touristy things, wander aimlessly, and eat all the baguettes with all the butter.

And now that I can say I’ve been to the one place I’ve always wanted to go, I’m sure I’m moments away from an existential crisis – which I will drown in the best cheese and chocolate I can get my hands on. In the meantime I have a few recipe posts scheduled, and as soon as I get back home I’ll flood this blog with gratuitous food and architecture and cobblestone silliness. If you want to follow along in real time, check me on instagram.

This is a little mini recipe and a weekend update to let you know what’s happening over on this here blog. Firstly, radishes.

Radishes are springy and pretty, but on their own they are maybe not so fun to eat (bitter? watery? yum?). While I was in Japan, however, I ingested a large amount of daikon, which is kind of a radish. Then I was thinking about other Japan flavors, so miso came to mind, and then the Frenchy combo of radishes with butter. Radishes with miso butter? Turns out, yeah. Frankly, it’s not even worthy of full-on recipe formatting because it’s too stupid easy. Just do this:

1. Get some radishes

2. Also get some butter and white miso paste

3. Mix two parts of butter to one part of miso (I went with Tablespoons)

4. Cut the tops off your radishes, slice them in halves or quarters, spread them on a baking sheet and throw on some blobs of miso butter. Roast at 400 until the radishes are browned and soft. Add pepper and taste, then add salt if it’s needed.

Now, about that giveaway…

My Salted Brown Butter Vanilla Bean Crispy Treats were featured on Buzzfeed (eee!!) which is a big deal for a little old blog like mine, so I’m being devious and trying to hook a few new readers with a Le Creuset cast iron skillet giveaway over on that post. Because I love my regular readers more than anything, I’d especially enjoy giving the fancy pan to one of you, so go and enter! All you have to do is leave a comment (over on my original post) and follow me on instagram (which many of you already do, so you’re half-way done). I post to instagram maybe weekly and mostly photos of food, so it should be pretty enjoyable for all involved.

When I got into food and cooking I sort of lamented the fact that I don’t have a really strong culinary heritage. Both my mom’s dad and my dad’s dad were Air Force pilots and my dad followed suit, so we are all, by necessity, not particularly sentimental or attached to any geographic locations or their accompanying cuisines. I was lucky enough to spend most of my childhood in Maryland, but my mom doesn’t like seafood, so I didn’t really absorb the food culture of the east coast either. Watching travel shows like No Reservations made me ache for that deep-rooted identity that surrounds the way real born and bred locals live and eat – it just seems so romantic to me, but I’ve more recently realized that roots come with strings (metaphorically speaking).

Italians, for example, hold their cuisine sacred. You slice your garlic, never grate it, pasta is a main, not a side, proper carbonara will not contain cream, etc. – the rules preserve the traditions, which I think is important, but it’s not for me. I dislike fettered-ness, which might have something to do with being a daughter of aviators (gravity, that’s cute). I like to think my lack of connection gives me an excuse for committing sins like this cream-drenched, American bacon-studded, asparagus-laden carbonara-esque, deliciously over-hyphenated pasta.

I’ll leave it to others to preserve tradition.

Asparagus Carbonara

Ingredients:
-1/2 pound long pasta (I used linguini fini, use what you want)
-at least 6 strips bacon, more isn’t a bad thing
-about 1/2 bunch of asparagus, snapped
-1 egg, plus 1 yolk
-1/4 cup cream
-1 clove garlic, grated
-1/3 to 1/2 cup parmesan cheese, grated
-salt to taste, and lots of black pepper

Method:

1. Start by roasting your bacon in a 325 F oven until the fat is well rendered and the bacon is brown and crispy (about 30 minutes), then crumble it and set it aside. Cook your asparagus (I blanched mine but roasting on the same pan as the bacon would be smarter) and slice it to your desired length.

2. In a large serving bowl (big enough to hold your pasta) whip together egg, yolk, cream, parmesan, garlic, salt, and pepper.

3. Boil pasta according to package directions for al dente. Don’t forget to salt the pasta water.

4. Working quickly, drain your pasta, dump it into the bowl with the egg/cream/cheese mixture, and cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a plate. Allow the hot pasta to sit in the sauce mixture for 3-4 minutes to cook the egg slightly and thicken the sauce.

5. Toss the pasta with the sauce and add the asparagus and crumbled bacon. Taste for seasoning and finish with more salt (if needed), more pepper, or more parmesan (or all three).

 Some food combinations are assumed: bread and butter, peanut butter and jelly, flavors we know go together almost without thinking. Like fairy tales or fables, some things are so well-known you can call them up in your mind without ever having read or experienced them. Yet, there’s something about cracking open a copy of Aesop’s Fables or Grimm’s Fairy Tales that gives a bit more weight to the stories. Creating and eating these spring-centric, old-school food pairings was a similarly enlightening experience for me, so steeped in unfamiliar tradition that it almost felt like a ritual. It was pretty tasty too. So here’s how you conjure spring:

Go to the market and buy asparagus, eggs, lemon, and butter. Then blanche your asparagus and shock it in ice water. Make hollandaise (in a blender, I’m not a sadist) with your lemons, eggs, and butter. Line up a handful of asparagus, pour on the hollandaise, and eat them. If you need more accoutrements for a proper meal, I suggest bacon, english muffin, and a poached or fried egg (bam. asparagus benedict).

Or you could buy some fat radishes, fancy flaky sea salt, butter (bonus if it’s cultured), and a baguette. Slice and toast the baguette, let the butter come to room temperature, slice the radishes, slather the toast in butter, layer the radish slices, sprinkle with salt, and eat. You’ll find that while radishes on their own are bitter, radishes with butter are peppery and sweet.

If you happen upon some pretty spring strawberries, grab them along with some heavy cream. Pour the cream on the berries and eat them. Resist the urge to add sugar. Probably slurp the cream when the berries are gone.

Spring, for me, is easily overshadowed by the more extreme seasons of the year – it’s temperatures are mellow, it’s holidays are not super festive, and it’s flavors can be sort of…mild. Baby greens are popping up, so salads are sort of obnoxiously ubiquitous and summer’s bolder dishes are still months away. I guess I need to be reminded what’s good about spring, apart from the weather. So I rustled up a few of my favorite springy recipes from this blog and others for some seasonal culinary inspiration.

My favorite, highly-adaptable scones, made simply with brown sugar, strawberries, and lots of whipped cream (pictured above).

May 17th is Memphis Belle day, which for me means one thing: Virg burgers.

Spring onions and baby potatoes are perfect for making my potato salad with grilled scallions and rustic romesco sauce.

One of my new favorite blogs transformed spring’s most abundant green leafy into a gorgeous and crave-worthy breakfast: creamed spinach toasts with fried eggs and fennel from The Pig & Quill.

I love asparagus, especially roasted, and even more especially with lemon – could go for a pan of The Food Charlatan’s lemon asparagus with pistachios right about now.

I’m pretty miffed I didn’t think of this one first: pickled strawberries (!) plus a pretty cocktail from Holly and Flora.

And to make the most of springy sweet peas: spaghetti with pancetta and peas from Girl Gone Gourmet.

Spring sprang sprung. Let’s enjoy it while we can.

This hummus happened by accident. I was browsing through Trader Joe’s, as one does, trying to look for snacks that are better for me than Doritos. I was also feeling lazy, so I picked up a tub of plain hummus, despite the fact that I’ve never found a store-bought tub that compares to my homemade version. I brought the stuff home, scooped it up with some crackers, and…boring (how shocking), some bell peppers: still boring. It needed acid and punch – so I decided to add some lemon and garlic. But I was out of lemons. My pickle jar stared at me suggestively, so I tried dunking a tart spear in the hummus, expecting the sesame and dill to probably hate each other, but they didn’t.

The plain hummus got scraped into the food processor with a clove of garlic and a splash of pickle juice, and it was really freaking good. I ate a lot of it and didn’t want Doritos at all. So, I decided to tweak and polish my homemade hummus recipe into a dill-pickle variation, and I’ve been snacking happily ever after. The end.

You can spike some store-bought hummus with pickle juice and garlic if you want for a semi-homemade hack (it will be an improvement) or you can make it from scratch, like this:

Dill Pickle Hummus
makes about 2 cups of hummus

Ingredients:
-1/3 cup tahini
-1-2 cloves garlic, chopped (two if they’re small or you really like garlic, one if they’re big or you’re shy)
-2 Tbsp lemon juice
-1/3 to 1/2 cup pickle juice (depending on how loose/pickle-y you want your hummus (I used fresh-packed pickles/juice like Claussen because they’re my favorite, you should use your favorite))
-1 15 oz can garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
-1/4 cup dill pickles, chopped
-2 Tbsp fresh dill
-salt, to taste

Method:
1. In a food processor, combine tahini with lemon juice, garlic, and 1/4 cup of the pickle juice. Pulse everything together until the garlic is incorporated and the tahini is lightened in color and thickened (check out my smooth and fluffy hummus recipe for a photo of the texture you’re looking for). Scrape the sides and bottom of the food processor and pulse again until all of the tahini is smooth and homogenous.

2. Add about 1/3 of the garbanzo beans, all of the chopped pickles, and another tablespoon of pickle juice. Turn the food processor on and let it run until the garbanzo beans are fully blended and smooth.

3. Continue to add pickle juice (a tablespoon at a time) with garbanzo beans in two more batches, blending until smooth after each addition (about 30 seconds).

4. Add dill and pulse until the dill is well-incorporated. Taste the hummus and add salt. From here you can adjust the flavor and texture further with more pickle juice or salt. If you want a slightly looser/lighter texture but are happy with the level of pickle flavor, blend in a tablespoon or two of water. The hummus will thicken as it sits in the fridge, so if you intend to keep it for a few days I’d recommend making it quite a bit looser than your average store-bought version.

5. Serve with crackers, cucumbers, carrots, celery, or bell peppers. A splash of olive oil on top looks pretty but isn’t really necessary flavor-wise.