CrankyCakes

Is it just me?

Wouldn’t you expect that your children and their two friends could stay at the petting zoo and playground for two minutes while you ran to get them a bottle of water since the poor little darlings were thirsty?

And if they had to run wild in the minutes you were gone, surely you’d think they could continue on with the petting zoo animals, or climbing the wooden tractor, or running across the wide, safe, open field.  What child of reading age would cross an acre, pass the “CLOSED” signs, and enter the corn maze?

This place, by the way, is a big old actual maze with paths that swirl around in traditionally confusing and re-doubling ways.  It wasn’t terrifying at 3:00 p.m., but I sure as heck wouldn’t want to be there after sundown.   I’ve seen the horror movies and I know what goes on.

Still, you and your younger child yourselves entered the forbidden rows, yelling for the trespassers and were at last reunited, after telling the offending three children that they were in TROUBLE and had ONE MINUTE to find their way to where you were (because if you tell people to do something impossible while YELLING, the laws of physics will change to accommodate your wishes), and then the farmer showed up to yell at them too.

So there we were with glaring adults and big-eyed children.  I was waiting for the finger-pointing and the meltdown and I was ready to dish out some Very Serious Consequences.  But that was when E. said, “Listen.  It’s my fault.  I went in and they came in to get me out.  I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed.”  The farmer looked at me and I think realized they were in much more trouble on the homefront than they were with the farm.  He asked, “So now you know you did something wrong?  And if I had a cable across that row you wouldn’t have gone in?  We want to make sure you’re safe, you know.”

I don’t know what you would have done but for me it was to give the children a hug.  And then we shared our first cider donuts of the season sitting around a picnic table talking about how to decide what’s allowed and what’s safe, about how smart it was to stay together and keep each other okay.

In the end it was one of those golden moments when our children show us the beautiful people they’re becoming, even if there’s plenty of crazy along the way.

And then we went home to make a dinner of our first 2010 local apples, some good Cabot cheddar, and a pile of crackers, since I had no energy left for cooking.  On the way, E. said, “Mommy, you know it’s not really my fault.  They should have signs showing how to get out of that place!  Can you believe there was only one picture of the whole thing?!”

Indeed.

And now that we’ve recovered I want to share with you this pure summer harvest celebration of a recipe that we enjoyed last week after a much less adventurous visit to our CSA farm.  It was Z.’s idea to mix, “corn … and cheese … and broccoli and water … and I’ll stir it all up!”  I’m sure he was thinking something more mudpie-ish, but to me it sounded like chowder, and that’s what we made.

Cheesy Corn Potato Chowder
About 6 servings

1.  Remove the kernels from:

• 3 ears fresh corn

and set aside.

2.  Heat until rippling in a large sauce pan:

• 2 T. butter or olive oil

3.  Adjust heat to medium-low, and add:

• 2 cups diced potatoes, with peels unless you really hate them
• 1/2 cup sliced carrots
• 1/2 cup chopped onion

Cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until carrots are softened, and onions are starting to brown gently.

4.  Stir in and mix very well:

• 1/2 t. salt
• freshly ground pepper
• 1/4 cup flour (substitute your usual thickener if you’re going for gluten-free)

Then pour in, 1/2 cup at a time, and bring to a simmer while stirring.

• 2 cups milk
• 1 cup water

5.  Stir in and cook at a low simmer just until broccoli turns bright green, about 3 minutes:

• 2 c. shredded cheddar cheese (I use Cabot 50% reduced fat cheddar)
• 1 cup finely chopped broccoli (or substitute spinach or chopped chard)
• the reserved corn

Heat through, and serve.

The Vermont plums are in, and they are damned good.   So good that I find myself leaving the farmer’s market each week of their short season with far more than I really need or have plans for.  Which was what was happening a couple of weeks ago when I ran into a friend who told me about her old neighbor who made dumplings with the plums that grew in her yard.

Of course the word, “dumplings” piqued my interest.  So with quarts of plums at the ready, I went home to find a recipe.  Here’s what I found, and have so far made two batches – one to freeze for winter, and one we ate fresh with grilled sausage and a great deal of delight.

Plum Dumplings
Adapted from AllRecipes.com
The original recipe’s yield says 25, but 20 seems to be closer to the truth

1.  Peel, quarter, boil until tender and then mash:

• 2 large or 4 small potatoes

2.  While the potatoes are cooking, prepare the plums.  Slice in half:

• 25 prune plums (Who knows?  Maybe you’ll get 25 out of the recipe and will actually need each one.  If not, you’ve got sugary sweet plums as a snack, so it’s a low-risk situation.)

Remove each pit, and sprinkle a bit of sugar into the spot where it was.  Place plums in a bowl while you prepare the dough.

3.  Make the dough by sifting together:

• 1 1/2 cups unbleached white flour
• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
• 1/2 t. powdered lemon peel
• pinch ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

Make a well in the center and add:

• 3 egg yolks
• 2 tablespoons softened butter
• 1 cup mashed potato

Mix together with a wooden spoon until too hard to stir, and then knead until very smooth.

4.  Flour a cutting board well, and roll out half of the dough to 1/4″ thick.  Use a glass or biscuit cutter to cut out 3″ or 4″ rounds.  (Work fairly quickly so the circles don’t dry out.)  Place one round on the palm of one hand, rub the circle’s outside with a sugared plum to moisten the dough.

Stretch and seal the dough around the plum, trying your best to avoid any holes in the dough.  (If you do end up with a hole, just grab a scrap from the board and patch it.)

Repeat until all dough is used up, gathering and re-rolling as many scraps as you can.  (To freeze at this point, place in a single layer on a well-floured cookie sheet and stick in the freezer until hard, and then put in a container or bag.)

5.  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, and gently place dumplings in the water and boil for about 10 minutes. (Add about 4 minutes if you cook from frozen.)

6.  In a large sauce pan, melt together over medium-low heat and stir until warm and thick:

• 1/2 c. unsalted butter
• 1  c. brown sugar or your favorite jam or marmalade (we were lucky to have some peach butter bubbling away on the stove and so used that)
• 1/4 c. bread crumbs to thicken if you like.

I’d like to come up with some brilliant summation here, but I’m a bit distracted as I’m here with a 5-year old here who insists it’s my birthday (it’s not) and that I have to go off to a party with Batman, a plastic dinosaur and some wooden milk.  You, on the other hand, should get yourself some plums and eat them in any way you can think of.

The vegan minister at our church retired recently, and we sent him off in fine Unitarian style with a big potluck picnic, music, bounce castle, and all manner of wholesome fun and well-wishing.

Though I knew most people in attendance are happy omnivores, I couldn’t bring myself to make something that the guest of honor wouldn’t eat.  And a quick review of what was in the fridge turned into this take on the summer classic, which seemed like one of those why-didn’t-I-think-of-this-before sorts of dishes once it occurred to me.   There was something especially fab about having it on the church picnic table right next to the genuine orange carrot-Jello mold, which I did indeed help myself to a big day-glo scoop of.

Vegan Insalata Caprese
Serves 8

Prepare tofu:

• 1 lb. package extra firm (not silken) tofu, pressed, then sliced fairly thickly, and marinated for 1 hour in 1 cup of water with 1/2 t. kosher salt and 2 cloves chopped garlic

While the tofu’s marinating, reduce to 1/3 cup over low simmer:

• 1 cup balsamic vinegar (don’t waste super-high quality stuff on this – run of the mill stuff will be fine)

Pat the tofu dry, then layer it in whatever shape suits you and your serving dish with:

• 4 ripe tomatoes, sliced into pieces about the size of the tofu
• 1 cup large basil leaves

Drizzle the vinegar over the top, then top with:

• 2 T. olive oil
• kosher salt & freshly ground pepper to tastev

Voila.  Now you’ve made the vegans happy.

I’ve been meaning to take a minute to write about the chickens.

It’s just that I don’t exactly know what to say.

In the winter, my amazing friend Paula wondered if we might want to invest in a small flock of meat-birds she was preparing to raise on her family’s farm.  The plan was that we’d come out and help with some of the care and feeding, and then eventually help with the slaughter.   We wanted in.  Of course I was nervous about the slaughter part.

So then spring came and her little peeps arrived.  She moved them out to her barn, and Z. & I went out to visit.  We met the meat-birds, who Paula got me in the habit of calling “lummoxes” as they’re bred for quick growth, big size, and not especially for smarts.  (You chicken-knowers may detect some ornamentals in the bunch.  Don’t worry – they’re being raised to show at the fair this year, not for meat.)

We helped fill their water and mix in the oyster shell with grain, helped shoo the layers where they were supposed to go.

And then I went out one more time and did some more of the same; of course Paula’s been going out every day.  And now all of a sudden tomorrow is chicken slaughter day.  We’re not doing it ourselves, but are instead packing up the birds and caravaning to Morrisville where there’s a butcher who will slaughter, dress and pack the birds for us.  We go back a few hours later and pick them up, all ready to go into the freezer.

I’ve talked to the boys extensively about this venture, about how animals should be treated well even if they’re going to be eaten.  How we as a family try to make sure that the animals we eat had good lives and were treated well, and that getting to know our food is part of that.

I would have thought that Z., who is younger and so very sweet, would have been especially traumatized.  But it’s his brother who’s taking it hard, refusing to go along for the trip.  And who has announced that he won’t even look at the birds if he has to be in the car with them.  I think Z. is okay because he knows we’ll be going to Applecheek Farm and Bee’s Knees and he probably suspects there will be juice boxes and treats involved.  He’s definitely right.

I’m looking at that picture of the bird in the grass, thinking about how right now as I’m listening to the crickets chirp it’s having its last night as a living being.  If I’m going to keep eating animals, I have to be okay with that.  Am I?  It’s hard to say for sure.  I’d like to be able to smugly congratulate myself, knowing that my freezer’s about to be filled with animals who lived a good and dignified life, and weren’t treated horribly and then stuck in a warehouse freezer.  I know this is better.  And I know that this ambiguity is appropriate.

And now I just hope we get through tomorrow.

One day I’m going to give away my last super-easy recipe and you Crankies are going to realize that I’m not actually a terribly good cook, just one who’s willing to be adventurous with ingredients.

But I’ll risk coming one step closer to that moment by delivering the promised recipe for Summer Rolls with Edible Flowers that was featured in my Beautiful, Edible Blossoms workshop at Red Wagon Plants.

This is probably my favorite no-cook meal.  It feels like you’ve actually made something, but you haven’t worked too hard – and you don’t have to heat anything for it unless you want to.   You can decide what to put in them by what’s in your refrigerator – combine a protein (marinated tofu, leftover chicken, etc.) on a bed of something mild (lettuce, bean thread noodles, shredded carrots), a dash of something strongly flavored like fish sauce or umeboshi or tamari, all rolled up in the rice paper wrapper and you’re done.  Adding in edible flowers makes them beautiful enough to serve to Fancy Company, should you be in the mood for that.

The recipe below suggests using all pale ingredients for the filling so that the flowers are especially visible, but – as always – you should feel free to make ‘em with what you’ve got.

Beautiful Summer Rolls
makes 8 (enough for a snack for 4)

• 8 rice paper wrappers, soaked one at a time for about 15 seconds in cold water, just before you’re ready to make them
• 4 cups bean thread noodles soaked in warm water for 10 minutes and then drained, and cut into smaller pieces
• 1 cup thinly sliced light green lettuce
• 1 cup diced marinated extra firm tofu, seitan, diced cold chicken, or other protein
• 8 leaves cilantro or basil
• ~1 T. fish sauce (or substitute lime juice or umeboshi vinegar or tamari)
• 8 edible flowers (these pictured are with nasturtiums and violas, and if you don’t have access to any you can use some red leaf lettuce or anything brightly colored that you want to see)
• sweet chili sauce, peanut sauce, fish sauce, or one of the traditional sauces on this page for dipping

Make by placing one soaked wrapper in front of you on a plate or cutting board.  Place about 1/2 cup noodles and lettuce, basil or cilantro and cubed tofu in a line on the wrapper. Drizzle over just a little bit of fish sauce or whatever you’re using.

Fold one edge over the filling, tucking the filling in so that you can roll tightly.   Place the flower to one side of the filling.

Tuck in the other sides, roll the wrapper, which will stick to itself, while using your fingers to compress the filling so it can be rolled fairly neatly.  Cover with a damp towel until the others are done, then serve with your preferred dip.

It was an early summer day and there in the cheese section was a bright and cheery box of ingredients put together by Ricki the Cheese Queen.  It was about $25, said it made 30 batches of mozzarella and/or ricotta and I had a little extra money and couldn’t resist.

So I got some milk, invited friends over and off we went.

We thought the boys would love making cheese, but the process turns out to be a lot of cooking and then touching hot things.  Instead they turned out to be more interested in this:

So we mom-types got a look at the ingredients in the box …

And then, repeating to myself, “pay attention, pay attention, — ooh look, a glass of wine! — pay attention,” we got started.

We learned this is really important before you start:

1. You can use raw (if you’re a fan) or pasteurized – but not ultra-pasteurized – milk.
2. Get thee some chlorine-free water, either by buying filtered or letting your chlorinated water sit uncovered for a few hours to let the chlorine evaporate.  I don’t know why this matters but the Queen hath spoken.

We dissolved 1/4 rennet tablet in 1/4 c. of that chlorine-free water.

Then mixed the citric acid in with 1 c. more chlorine-free water.

Then we poured the milk into a big stainless steel pot, stirred in the citric acid, and heated the milk to 90F.  First it looks like this:

And then before I knew it, it looked like this.  This was definitely the first time I’ve ever been excited to see curdled milk, and the first time I can remember ever considering that “curdled” doesn’t mean “went bad” but does in fact mean “form curds as if to make cheese.”  Awesome.

Then it was time to stir in the dissolved rennet.  Ricki’s instructions say to stir with “an up and down motion,” and I have no idea what the hell that means since I’m pretty sure that stirring means something that happens in a circular fashion.  So I stirred, making sure to sort of fold the top part of the stuff into the bottom part of the stuff and hoped that was good enough.

Then it was time to cover the pot, leave it alone, and wait five minutes.

After 5 minutes, it was supposed to look like a custard, with the liquid (whey) separated from the curds.  It didn’t look like custard, and the whey was pretty milky looking (apparently not desirable), so the lid went back on for 5 more minutes.  Then it looked better.

We were supposed to next cut the curds in a sort of grid fashion, but ours were not so solid that they were really able to be sliced, so we stirred it around.

Then the pot went back on the stove to stir and to heat the proto-cheese to 115F while stirring, then stirred it off the heat for a few minutes more.

There is no picture of this.

Then Her Majesty said to “drain the whey” off of the curds, which seemed a little crazy because the whole thing was mostly liquid.  We poured it over a strainer instead.

Next a big pot of water got heated to 185F, and then the curds get dipped in and stirred around.  This was super-exciting because they quickly start to melt and look an awful lot like mozzarella.  Then there’s more dipping and folding and dipping and folding and stretching, some adding salt and herbs and before we knew it we had some cheese.

There’s no picture of this because I was dipping and folding and adding salt.  But look:  video!

We thought, “Why not bocconcini?”  so after it was thoroughly cheese-like we started forming those.  They were hard to get round and it was hard to make them without lumps and bumps and seams.  But by then we were on our second glasses of wine so we pressed bravely ahead.  We mixed up some garlic and olive oil and kosher salt and Annie chopped up some basil from the garden to marinate our little mini mozzarellitas.

And we threw together some edible flowers and greens and currants and thawed some biscuits from the freezer and turned it into dinner.

It was lovely, and I’m happy to report that every day since then Z. has asked for homemade cheese.  And it will most definitely be coming.

Well, not crostini exactly since the bread isn’t crisp.  Maybe canape, but they anyway were what I brought to a veggie potluck this week.  I skipped the crisping because I always kind of hate the inevitable crumble and collapse of bruschetta and crostini after you take one bite and before you know it you’re dripping tomato cubes and apologizing to the hostess about the carpet.

Not only was I taking such care of my future co-eaters, but then I felt myself simpering with smugness about being able to combine thawed roasted beets from the freezer, fresh snipped fennel fronds from the garden, a Brie-like goat cheese from our CSA share, and apricot preserves from last year.

Character flaws aside, what’s really nice about these is that they can be an inspiration for all sorts of summer eating.  A piece of good bread, crisped or not, a slice or schmear of cheese, a tart and fruity something on top, and a sprig of some fresh herb or other – lots of possibilities.   I made this version thinking about how the different kinds of sweetness of beets, apricots, and fennel would play with the creamy cheese on baguette.  But you of course will adapt it to use what you’ve got around.

Beet, Fennel & Goat Cheese Canapes
About 25 pieces

Arrange on a platter:

• 25 (or whatever) thin slices of baguette, lightly brushed with
• extra virgin olive oil (you’ll need about 2 T.)

Place on bread:

• 1 slice Caprella, Camembert, Brie, or any soft cheese you like

Set bread aside.

Combine and puree in a blender, or a bowl that will accommodate an immersion blender:

• 1/4 c. apricot (or other fruit) preserves
• 2 T. olive oil
• 1 T. sherry (or other mild) vinegar
• pinch salt
• pinch sugar

Pour dressing into a medium bowl.

Cut into small dice:

• 2 c. worth roasted beets (or plum, peach, apricot, melon, tomato, etc.)

Combine dressing and beets or fruit with:

• 2 T. finely chopped fennel fronds (or basil, lemon balm, nasturtium leaves)

Place a heaping teaspoon of the beet mixture on top of the bread and cheese and top with:

• 1 small sprig of your chosen herb.

This is Rebecca.  She works at the Free Press, and is the fabulous sales rep who we work with at the Scuffer.  Which was where we ran into each other when she asked me what I thought of bouillabaisse.  I like bouillabaisse a lot.

Did I want to come along to the Bouillabaisse Bash that Bluebird Tavern, Dedalus Wine Shop and winwin events were putting on that Sunday and that the Free Press was sponsoring?  I was available, oh yes indeed.

The event’s plan was a simple one: celebrate the season the way it’s done in Provence – with fabulous rosé wines and bouillabaisse.  There would be live music, it would be in the barn at the Intervale Center, and that was that.

So on Sunday, I put on a fabulous new summer dress, settled the wild boys down with crankyGreg, and headed to the Intervale.  Going down the hill, I screeched into Gardener’s Supply to pick up something to deal with the voracious army of slugs and snails that are walloping my garden.  F’ers Naughty gastropods.

From there it was over to the barn, where the lovely Anna and Lara were staffing the registration wagon.  People, if you see these faces greeting you at an event, you’re in the right place.

Then it was inside to hit up Jason from Dedalus for one of the four rosés he was pouring.  I started with the Ermitage he’s holding in this picture, and had a favorite in a rosé of Pinot Noir that I finished with.

People were wandering in and through the barn to the lawn behind it.  Here are Suzanne Podhaiser from Seven Days talking with a Emily Betz of Bistro Sauce and a friend.

Before too long, it was time to eat.  A buffet line was set up around the Bluebird event tent, where the bouillabaisse was simmering.

First we grabbed a plate from the stack and got a tong-ful of salad.

Then around the corner to olives …

and gougeres …

and bread slices to spread with saffron aioli (or was it rouille?).

Then this nice guy handed over a bowl of soup.  (There’s Sue from Bluebird behind him and to the right.)

Then we sloshed our way inside to eat up.  The first bite was heavenly, a breath of saffron and fennel and ocean.  The soup was full of fish and shellfish:  mussels, scallops, clams, whelks, periwinkles, crab, cod, pollock and something and something.  But things got positively rapturous when we put the aioli-topped bread in the broth that was left in the bowl and let it soak up the flavors.   Traditionally, the seafood and broth are eaten separately like this, and it was easy to see why.  Absolutely rich and light and briny and aromatic.  Wonderful.

We had a second bowl, plotted making off with the unguarded aioli sitting on the table, and then August First’s Phil and Jodi danced.

Another lap around turned up the table where the folks from the Freeps were hanging out.

And then it was time for me to get home, where – fabulous dress or no fabulous dress – it was time to get on with the slug-killing.

So at last I’m reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and the truth is that I’m liking it so much that I’m a little bit embarrassed.

I was sure that I was going to find it a total snoozer, and roll my eyes at all the stuff I already know.  Like I need to be taught how to eat locally and why it’s a good idea?  But reading it is like talking to another localvore friend, one who’s clever and funny and self-deprecating and good-hearted, and not as “preachy” as I’ve heard the book described.

Maybe that’s why I took it a little personally when I read the passage about how my new BFF’s year of eating locally was going to mean growing food and buying from local farmers.  And ABSOLUTELY NOT going to include gleaning weeds by the roadside because she didn’t want to fit some low-class stereotype.

Ahem.

I like collecting weeds, and I’m okay with knowing that my sons will grow up to be mortified by the habit.  It’s okay because one day they’ll appreciate my boundless creativity and thriftiness.  Of course by then I’ll be dead and my ghost will be hovering over the heads of their wives or husbands saying things like, “Really?  You’re too good for that?  You’re just going to throw out the peel and those greens and not even make soup out of it?  And what the hell is that thing you’re wearing?  You call that a shirt?”

But here and now my target is grape leaves (well, grape leaves plus eight uninterrupted hours of sleep and maybe paying my bills on time for once).  The vines are absolutely everywhere, and I’m gearing up for a big harvest and preservation.

And in the meantime, I’m preparing lots of dolmades with the fresh ones.  They’re a quick snack or meal, taste great, are gluten- and dairy-free, and easily made vegan.  Come on by and join me among the weeds.

Stuffed Grape Leaves
Adapted from Joy of Cooking
About 40 rolls

Pour 2 cups of boiling water over:

• About 40 large grape leaves (or 2 small jars if you haven’t gotten the fresh wild ones around).

Let sit for 1 hour.

In the meantime mix well together in a large bowl:

• 1 1/2 lbs. ground lamb or beef (locally, humanely raised)
• (if you want a vegetarian version substitute 2 cups dried lentils plus 1/3 cup of water for the meat)
• 1 finely chopped onion
• 1/2 cup finely chopped fresh herbs (your choice – I used oregano and thyme)
• 1/3 cup uncooked white rice
• 1 T. salt (don’t skimp)
• Ground black pepper to taste

Line a large saucepan with several leaves.  Then roll the remaining leaves by placing a leaf on a small plate or cutting board, vein-side up and with the stem facing you.  Put a heaping teaspoon of filling about an inch above the leaf’s bottom.  Fold over the left and right sides, then roll from bottom to top and place in the pan with the flap-side down.  Roll the rest of them and place in concentric circles in the pan, building to a second level as necessary.  Save a few smaller grape leaves aside.

Drizzle over the top:

• 3-4 T. olive oil

Pour in:

• 2 T. lemon juice
• 2 cups stock/broth or water,

Place remaining grape leaves on top, and cover with a small plate (this will ensure that all the stuffed leaves are sufficiently submerged).  Cover the pan and simmer for about 30 minutes, or until the rice and meat/lentils are cooked.  Serve hot, cold, or at room temperature – which is how much Mediterranean food tends to be eaten.

Do you know about the excellent local Vermont blog Gruel for Dinner? I don’t know a thing about its author, but I’ve quickly become a fan.  She has great taste, beautiful pictures, and good, funny writing.

I’m also a fan of Mark Bittman.  When GFD posted a link to her take on Mark Bittman’s Asparagus Pesto, and reiterated her position as the founder, officer, and sole member of The Mark Bittman Minimalist Club, I wanted to try the recipe.  I also thought I might be an asset to the MBMC, perhaps as Vice President in Charge of Distraction, for instance.   But since GFD and her commenters agreed that the pesto was an ill-advised treatment of asparagus, this is what I did.

But wait a minute.  First I have to talk about how I’ve spent half a day waffling over whether it’s actually possible to deconstruct pesto.  Does a deconstructed paste mean the pre-ground ingredients, or would it mean a smaller portion of said goo?  Would it be better called “preconstructed pesto” or does that take its name from vaguely pretentious to downright absurd?  I’ll trust you to tell me.

Roasted Asparagus with Whatever
6 servings

Brush:

• 2 T. olive oil on
• 2 pounds fresh asparagus spears, trimmed as necessary

Sprinkle on:

• kosher salt to taste
• freshly ground pepper

Grill or broil for about 5 minutes, just until a bright, vibrant green.  Set aside on a platter.

Lightly toast and then set aside:

• 1/4 c. pignoli (substitute another nut as you like as they’ve gotten ferociously expensive)

Warm 2 T. olive oil in a small skillet, just until warm, and then add:

• 1/4 c. fresh slivered basil leaves (save a nice sprig or leaf to garnish if you like)
• 2 cloves fresh thinly sliced garlic

Heat just until the garlic is a little bit translucent and you can smell the garlic and basil.

Drizzle the oil-garlic-basil mixture over the asparagus.  Top with the pignoli.  Use a cheese slicer (Were you too wondering what that tool’s name was? Why not consult the experts over at – I kid you not – cheeseslicing.com?) to thinly slice:

• 2 oz. Tarentaise or parmesan

Place the cheese on top and serve at room temperature.