OMG a Recipe: Greeting Spring With AsparaGUSTO

I get a little crazy around asparagus season. Maybe because it's literally like tasting Spring. When you're eating asparagus in season and it's not costing, like, $8 a pound because it was barged over from a continent away, you know the cold weather season is coming to an end. Things are growing again, leaves will start to bud, flowers are ready to bloom. Asparagus isn't in season for very long, you just enjoy the weird, alien-looking stalks for the time it's available, but you definitely feel a change in the air. Celebrating asparagus season is like you're actively taking a role in how our plates will be having a delightful, dramatic makeover. And yes, your pee will smell weird. Viva Asparagusto!

Once more, with Asparagusto! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

UnRecipe: My Universe is Ruled By Dogs

It's no secret that we have an overly-documented dog named Indy. And really, why shouldn't she be photographed a million times and clutter the Instagram-iverse? Dogs in general are my kryptonite. I get all weak-in-the-knees when I see their fuzzy faces and much like the annoying people who like to pinch everyone's babies (weirdos -- stop touching strangers' babies!), I'm one of those freaks who always ask to pet someone's dog. So far I've neither been gored by a face-chomp or an overly protective dog owner, so I've got that going for me. Which in a roundabout way leads me to today's post, about Italian-inspired cuisine, a couple of cute animated pups and what surprisingly came out of that whole thought process.

Herbed goat cheese-stuffed chicken inspired by Disney...Sort of - Photo by Wasabi Prime

I blame you, Walt Disney, in whatever cryogenic chamber you may be dwelling. I had caught a bit of that marvelous classic, Lady and the Tramp, a stunningly beautiful 1955 animated movie about Boy Dog meets Girl Dog and the undercurrents of class rivalry in canine form. I never realized how clever they were with the dogs-observing-humans-perspective until you realize the well-kept spaniel Lady, refers to her owners as Jim Dear and Darling. Terms of endearment between a husband and wife, but a dog doesn't know anything different, so of course that just seems like their proper names. We're no different at our house -- we've created our false nuclear family around Indy, so she knows me as Mamma and Brock as Daddy. We're not sick people, I swear.

Of course the most memorable scene of Lady and the Tramp is when there's a doggie date night and they go to an Italian restaurant populated by borderline offensive Italian stereotypes who serve up a heaping pile of spaghetti and meatballs. Nevermind that dogs can't actually slurp pasta or that a restaurant owner would set up an alleyway dining experience, complete with musical serenade for a couple of mangy-looking dogs -- we love the little nose-nudge of sharing a meatball and the inevitable pasta-kiss. Again, dogs don't really kiss, but whatever, this is the stuff that Disney dreams are made of, and when I saw that, all I could think of was: I want spaghetti and meatballs.

Animated inspiration and pasta swapouts - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Like most meal inspirations, they end up going in all kinds of crazy directions, because clearly what was made was not spaghetti and meatballs. I think my main craving was a fresh tomato sauce because we still had some leaves of basil that weren't chewed up by slugs. I had some skinless chicken breasts in the fridge that needed to be used, so meatballs became less of an option. I still had a dinner at Adam's Northwest Bistro lingering in my head -- one of my favorite things they do is a stuffed pork chop, which is the size of Florida, and will pretty much have you in a complete food coma for the rest of the night. Which means it's fantastic. A little hard to imagine something so rich and hearty during warm weather, but I love stuffed meats and wanted to make a more warm-weather friendly version. Not the same animal, nor the same ingredients, but inspiration is inspiration -- so far we have Lady and the Tramp and a restaurant in Monroe.

Mixing softened goat cheese with fresh chopped herbs made for a nicely gooey stuffing for the chicken. This is a great way to mix random herbs together if your garden is like mine, and just a mish-mash of things growing. I had these beautiful dark, blood-red heritage-descendant apples from the farmers market that I initially thought about using for stuffing the chicken breasts, but they were so delicious on their own, sometimes ingredients just never last long enough to get into a prepared meal. Goat cheese and herbs became the de facto filling, but that's not such a bad thing.

Dramatic fruit, a sumptuous feast and a longing-eyed beast - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Cutting little side pockets into the chicken and stuffing chilled clumps of the herbed goat cheese inside before using toothpicks to secure the seam, I let the chicken breasts quickly sear in an oiled pan for a few minutes, just to get a little color before pulling them out and setting them aside. The goat cheese will start to get melty and I didn't want it melting all over the pan's surface and burning. I moved on to an herbed tomato sauce that the stuffed chicken breasts would finish cooking in. I used canned tomatoes, but fresh herbs. I just wanted a quick sauce and tomatoes in a can work in a pinch. A little garlic, some salt and pepper, red pepper flakes for heat and a finishing sprinkle of fresh basil was all the sauce needed. Taste as you go, no measuring, just UnRecipe-ing the afternoon away. I turned the heat down before adding the chicken breasts back in and let it all simmer on low for a few minutes until the chicken was cooked through. The gentle liquid heat ensures the chicken doesn't get rubbery and some of the goat cheese oozes out and makes the sauce creamy, which only adds to the flavor. All in all, a fairly easy one-skillet meal with a lot of basic ingredients you have sitting around your fridge, pantry or backyard garden.

Roasted asparagus instead of pasta. Not the same as romantic noodles, but again, the weather was warm and pasta and breads make me bloat in the heat like a dead cow in a field. Besides, vegetables are good for you, eat up. Asparagus always makes for an easy vegetable side dish and they make a visually interesting surface for the food to sit on, so it's win-win for food bloggery.

As I sat down to eat this meal that came from a bizarre, convoluted string of inspiration, intention and already-eaten ingredients, I thought: while my personal universe may be ruled by dogs, my kitchen universe is thankfully run by chaos and confusion. And yes, sometimes those universes meet when Indy gets a little nibble from the plate because she's just so damn adorable.

UnRecipe: Asparagustatory Story

Good Taste. Bad Taste. What does it really mean to have a skilled palate? For some the answer is a culinary education background, learning about ingredients in a classic, academic environment. For others it could mean a willingness to at least try everything, no fear, with the understanding that having eaten something enough times, you'll develop an appreciation for it. Maybe it's a combination of both. I got to thinking about how we process flavors when I had a craving for asparagus, a tricky flavor all on its own, with a unique ability to tell a little something about ourselves.

Asparagus and egg pizza, it's what's for every meal - Photo by Wasabi Prime

My mind is fixated on flavors lately, as I'm in the middle of reading Barb Stuckey's Taste What You're Missing, about the wild and untamed science of savoring food. Likely more mild than wild for most bedside reading, there's no explosions, fast cars or girls in bikinis (at least not yet); instead, it's a pleasant stroll through the breakdown of how the human senses translate food to our body and mind, and why we adore some flavors but can't quite wrap our tastebuds around others. 50 Shades of Gray, it's not, but you'll be better enriched for it and not have to hide your shame behind another book jacket when reading it in public. 

One of the points that Stuckey makes in her book is about asparagus, and that it's an unusual litmus test for human senses. I cackle perversely over the fact that one of the amusements of asparagus is that it makes your pee smell. Maybe there's more 50 Shades of Gray going on than I thought. But honestly, it stinks and asparagus has made it abundantly clear that it's a vegetable that will not be ignored. Some people claim they don't have that pungent side effect after eating asparagus, but recent scientific discoveries point out that it's not whether that smell is present, but that it's a genetic difference in people's olfactory receptors that allow them to recognize it. It doesn't necessarily mean someone is a superhero with super-spidey-senses if you pick up a whiff of asparagus post-potty break, but it does make you think about the innate sensitivities people have, which apparently go as deep as our DNA. If only some people can sense certain things, how does that translate towards the ability to enjoy food? Granted, I'm not done with Stuckey's book yet, maybe there will be some revelation that when eating a candy bar, men just taste chocolate and sugar, but a genetic switch in the female genome is suddenly triggered by cacao, tapping into a primal endorphin rush that releases feelings of  rapturous bliss and a compelling desire to curl up on the couch to watch John Hughes movies starring Molly Ringwald. What, you don't get that after eating a chocolate bar?

Eating my greens, along with the glorious golden yellow hue of a gooey egg yolk - Photos by Wasabi Prime

In this process of reading Stuckey's book, I do find that I'm thinking more actively about food cravings and why something may feel so compelling to cook and eat. I was completely struck by the desire to make something with asparagus after seeing Chef Lisa Nakamura's asparagus and chevre crostini demo on a Q13 local news segment a little while back -- you can see the video here. Maybe it was because I really like asparagus and goat cheese, and don't need much convincing, but I remember having a very clear image in my head over what I wanted to eat, which was a variation on her recipe. Instead of putting the chevre and seasoned asparagus on a toast slice, I piled them atop thin pizza dough, with a big egg baked in the middle. Asparagus is a strange food. There's a reason why sommeliers are confounded by this funky green stalk -- it's grassy and bitter, and can bring out the bitterness in other things like an evil mother-in-law. But when paired with rich things like a creamy cheese or a runny egg yolk, somehow the flavors, much like The Force, is balanced in the universe, no stupid mitichlorian mythology required.The bitterness helps to cut through the rich yolk, the asparagus retains every fresh bite, despite its time in a hot oven. Somehow all these things work, and once you've had that balance before, maybe in the form of a platter of steamed asparagus with a healthy drizzle of hollandaise sauce, your brain just recognizes the pieces fitting together and you want it again and again.

Aspara-Egg-and-Chevre Pizza anyone? - Photos by Wasabi Prime

As I read more into Barb Stuckey's book, about how the sensitivity of tastebuds can be manipulated -- which I'm sure that's what happens with this combination of ingredients on the aspara-egg-and-chevre pizza -- it still feels like a bit of food magic. Even when something is complex with varying textures and uniquely-paired ingredients, and we may not be able to reverse-engineer what we're experiencing, it's like it just encourages our sense of taste even further, to continue staying hungry for something new.

UnRecipe: I'm Bringing SundayDinnerBack

Nowhere near as rhythmic or booty-shaking as JT singing he's bringing SexyBack, I would still like to make an appeal to anyone who takes a look at this post, to please consider bringing SundayDinnerBack. Not that it was missing. I just think it's a pleasant weekly ritual to encourage at least one meal, fresh out of the oven or off the stove, that brings everyone to the table.

Eat this, Norman Rockwell - Photo by Wasabi Prime

I'm the first to admit, weekend meals are my "cheat" days -- the biggest question being, Burger or Pizza? I tend to cook quickly-prepared dishes during the week to supply us with a bevvy of dinner leftovers and Tupperware lunches, so by the time the weekend comes, I'm spent and just want to lay down for a while and have my nutrients brought to me, preferably in a cocktail glass. But when motivation kicks in and the fridge is well-stocked, I'll get a bee in my bonnet to make something that I can savor cooking as much as I can savor eating. Case in point, right around St. Patty's Day, corned beef was on the brain. I enjoy corned beef, but I have not, in fact, ever made it. I perused the meat section at the store, but people must have nabbed all the brisket, because all that was left were these bagged, pre-brined cuts of meat that kinda scared the bejeezus out of me. When I think I need a PhD to recognize, much less pronounce the chemical preservatives they put in brining liquid, the Food Angel on my shoulder says, Throw it back, lest ye be better preserved than Cher in a nuclear winter. Maybe being Cher isn't such a bad thing, but not as a result of eating Mummified Corned Beef.

A not-so-traditional corned beef, but Indy didn't mind - Photos by Wasabi Prime

To the Interwebs, Robin! I used Alton Brown's brine for corned beef; I didn't have saltpeter, which is the chemical you use to preserve the pink color of the meat, and I didn't have juniper berries. While the lack of juniper berries probably removed a degree of flavor potential for the meat, I wasn't disappointed -- I quite liked his use of whole cinnamon to perfume the meat, and the other flavors combined nicely. As always, good job, Alton Brown! Given the absense of non-scary brisket at the store, I did have a cut of round steak, aka London broil as some labels are apt to call it. It's a large slab of beef, somewhat tough and not a lot of fat marbling through it -- kind of like a flank steak. Since it's a bit on the gnaw-gnaw-gnaw side, round steak isn't a terrible substitute for corned beef, as the slow cooking will most certainly break down the sinewy bits, rendering it fork-tender. The slow cooker worked its magic on the brined beef, leaving me time to prepare a wonderfully rich and sinful side dish -- cheesy potatoes. Whole red potatoes, cut into large chunks, boiled just shy of fork-tender, then tossed in a cream and cheddar sauce before getting set into a casserole dish and shoved into the oven to finish off. I sprinkled some panko crumbs over to make a nice crust, but it all gets ooey-gooey mixed together when you spoon those potatoes onto a plate with slices of corned beef. I made a sauce for the beef, reducing the liquid left in the slow cooker, adding a splash of marsala and some pre-soaked wild mushrooms. I know, not so Irish, but we didn't even have this on St. Patty's Day, it was days after, as the brining process recommends over a week's time. When you see Alton's recipe saying it takes 243 hours, that's the brine talking. But consider a dish like this for the Sunday a week from now -- so get that herbed soak going on a slab of meat today!

Saucy, cheesy, bacon-y good -- who needs to live forever? - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Like everyone else, I get inspired to make things by magazines, books, and TV, and I saw this recipe for Roast Chicken with Romesco sauce from Martha Stewart. I love romesco sauce, that peppery, tangy sauce from Spain that's pretty much good on everything. I could seriously just eat it on its own, just a little bit of bread, call it done, it's so good. I used the basics of St. Martha's romesco recipe, but of course added my own touches -- I put in finely-chopped preserved lemons, just a little to heighten the tangy flavor. And I totally goofed when I was opening cans of what I thought were tomatoes -- I opened a can of chickpeas instead. Whoops. I could have left them out, but I didn't have anything in mind for them later in the week, so I said, eff it, and in they went, during the sauce's finish. Completely crazy, I know, but I added some mushrooms in there too, so it made the sauce almost like its own side dish, there was so much stuff mixed in there. And beneath everything was some seared chicken. I swear, it's under there somewhere.

Chicken n' mushrooms n' romesco sauce - Photos by Wasabi Prime

I've said it before, but I like buying whole chickens and just breaking 'em apart myself. No, not Hulkamania where I tear through it like some rabid animal, I use a knife. I'm awful at butchering my own meats, it literally feels like I'm butchering the butchering process, but I get there one way or another. As a result, there's a serial killer-like supply of chicken carcasses in the freezer for stock and all the broken down parts ready for Sunday Dinner. It feels productive to be able to do this yourself, it's cheaper, and you have enough time to practice your chicken dismemberment on a weekend. Duh, Winning. A good cast-iron Dutch oven is perfect for searing the chicken to a toasty brown color. I deglazed the pot with a little stock before adding the romesco sauce and stowaway chickpeas and mushrooms. The chicken was nestled in and it was covered up and shoved into a preheated 350 degree oven for maybe 20 minutes, just to finish off. Set it, forget it, moving on... 

Bacon makes it better and faux-Mac n' Cheese - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Aside from asparagus making your pee smell weird (well, it does), it's delicious and the perfect size for making little bundles and wrapping slices of bacon around them. What would I call such a thing -- Aspara-bacon Haystacks? Pork Torches? A-spear-a-Bacon?  Who knows, but they're an indulgence to add to a plate, just to make sure you're not eating too healthily. I've seen this done with individual asparagus spears and prosciutto -- equally good -- but since the bacon is thick, having a bundle of mid-sized spears together helps lengthen the cooking time, giving the bacon a chance to render and tighten. I threw a whole tray of these bad boys into a 375-degree oven and it probably took about 20 minutes, give or take. Having the asparagus tossed with a light drizzle of oil helps them along, and I like these with a lot of pepper.

Because everything for this Sunday meal was so comfy-cozy, I craved macaroni and cheese, but I went with cauliflower and cheese instead. I would say it's a healthier dish, but not really, as the cheese sauce is pretty rich -- full cream, shreds of cheddar, the works. The cauliflower is just an easy pasta-swap, since it holds up well and doesn't have too-strong a flavor to counter the sauce. I cut the cauliflower into bite sized pieces, added to boiling water for just a few minutes, just to lightly soften, and then quickly drain before tossing with the cream sauce. Much like the cheesy potatoes, the cauliflower-cheese combo gets put into a casserole dish, a sprinkling of breadcrumbs and extra Parmesan if you have it, and into the oven it goes to finish.

Yes, it was quite a rich meal, but it felt so fancy-schmancy to have multiple courses at home and it made having dinner on a Sunday special and something to enjoy. The Mister works late and I often eat early, so our meal schedules are always out of sync -- weekends are when we can really appreciate a meal together, without the pressure of time or the onset sleepiness from a busy workday to intrude. So come on, bring SundayDinnerBack.

UnRecipe: Meat n' Potatoes

There's nothing fancy about meat loaf, but it's one of those dishes we all return to many times over. It's like a giant hamburger, minus the bun. Maybe that's what makes it such an All-American dinner staple. And there's no single, authentic way of making it, so it becomes this cultural symbol of comfort food, like chicken soup, where no single person gets to own it, but everyone gets to have a part in it. So to that, I say, Hooray to you, Meat Loaf!

Meat loaf the meal, not the singer - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Not unlike a lot of people, my mom used to make meat loaf. Not because it was fancy or because our family was craving it, but because it was simple. And, to be honest, I didn't much care for it, mostly because at the time, I wasn't a fan of hamburgers either. So weird, right? Downright un-American. But I think one of the significant turning points in my long, notorious history as a picky eater was when I had to start making meals for myself and I discovered the magic behind meat loaf. It's easy, relatively inexpensive and it yields plenty of leftovers. Ground beef, seasonings, an egg and some breadcrumbs to bind, and either shape into a loaf or shove into a loaf pan before letting the oven do its thing -- shazam, done.

I've done variations on the loaf of meat, using ground turkey, seasoned pork sausage, mixing in finely chopped vegetables, shredded cheese, and seasonings that make it Italian-themed or Southwest-themed. It's as versatile as making hamburgers, adding different ingredients and flavors as one desires, which I think also lends to its refusal to disappear from restaurant and home kitchen menus.

It was nice to have retro-worthy dinner, keepin' it real with meat loaf. But there was a little gilding of the lily by roasting some sweet potatoes with herbed grey salt and par-boiling some asparagus and tossing with gorgonzola crumbles. The meat loaf itself was a little fancier than usual, being mixed with chunks of gorgonzola cheese, giving it a nice richness of flavor. Even with all the little extra upgrades, it didn't push the meal into anything fussy, it just emphasized how comforting a meal like this can be, and how good it is to have a home cooked meal.

Asparagus cooking and a meaty loaf, baked fresh from the oven - Photos by Wasabi Prime

UnRecipe: Where's the Beef? With the Broccoli.

When I was at the store, I saw a package of pre-cut, bagged broccoli that was called "Broccoli-Wokly," which made me laugh because I thought of Brock, aka, Mr. Wasabi, and the fact that they used to call him Brock-oly when he was a kid, but then I kind of sighed and shook my head because I thought, how lazy do we have to be to buy pre-cut broccoli? Of all the veggies, it has the least hassle in preparation, plus you're not trimming off much, and it's cheaper than cheap, so buying it prepackaged probably triples the cost. I picked up my supply of plain old crowns of cruciferous goodness and brought them home to make a simple stir-fry with flank steak, which I paired with a little spring salad, courtesy of a farmers market trip.

Getting beefy and eating one's greens - Photo by Wasabi Prime

I hadn't actually had beef broccoli in a long time -- it was another one of those quick weekday meals my mother would prepare, as it's pretty much just that: broccoli, thin slices of beef, a bit of ginger and garlic, and soy sauce thickened with corn starch. It's always a mainstay at fast food/generic Chinese restaurants, swimming in a mysterious sauce and sweating it out under heat lamps all day, waiting for its special purpose as a #3 Lunch Special.  I think for something as simple and nostalgic as beef broccoli stir fry, it's worth more than prepackaged, precut veggie status and grocery store deli counters.

On my last visit to the Asian market, Uwajimaya, I picked up a giant jar of black bean paste, which gives food such a great depth of flavor and you inevitably wind up with more than you know what to do with, so I've been putting it in everything possible. It gave a nice sweetness to the sauce, but not a sugary-sweet flavor, which a lot of fast-food Asian restaurants do with their sauces. Ugh -- isn't that just the worst, where you have some sort of teriyaki dish and it's like having meat with corn syrup? Bleah. I can definitely give a thumb's up to adding black bean paste into sauces for beef, as the flavor is nice and rich, plus it's nice to have around if you're making a barbecue dish and want to give it a bit of an Asian twist. Heaven knows you'll be eager to find ways to use it, as there's no such thing as buying a small jar of the stuff.

Goods from the farmers market - Photos by Wasabi Prime

As for the side dish, I made an asparagus salad with some tomatoes and red onion. This was a twist on my mom's warabi salad, which of course uses warabi, baby ferns that are plucked from the rainy lands of Hilo, Hawaii. While we have the rainy lands of Washington State, I was pricing the fiddlehead ferns at the Bellevue Farmers Market and $10 a pound for the cute little swirls was a little steep, so I went on the cheaper side and bought a bunch of thin asparagus for $5. Same idea and actually, the asparagus was pretty close to the same flavor as the warabi. Yeah, yeah,  I know what you're thinking: "Tomatoes aren't in season yet, you fool." The ones I got were clearly hothouse grown, but the vendor had a "clearance bin" of odd-shaped overripe tomatoes, and lord knows I can't resist a sale.

UnRecipe: Rolling With the Meaty Punches

A few years ago, I remember seeing a preview for a John Woo movie called Paycheck, where Ben AFLAC-Affleck is this super-geeeenius who can reverse engineer technology from other companies and he sells this information to the highest-bidding competitor for gobs of moolah. How many zeroes in gobs? A lot. There was also a lot of stuff blowing up, high-tech looking computer animation to visually represent the interworkings of  The Affleck's mind under the suspension of belief that he can do this all in his noggin' without pausing to count using his fingers, and a whole bunch of fast cuts to try and hide the fact that the movie probably wasn't very good, its adaptation from a Phillip K. Dick short story notwithstanding. Honestly, has Hollywood done anything right with Philly-D's work? But I digress. The movie was silly, yet the even sillier reverse engineering aspect came into play when Mr. Wasabi described a meal he had and I decided to try and recreate it from description alone. The result? Proscuitto-Wrapped Cheesy Steak Rolls.

Reverse engineer this, Ben! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Fine, so it's nowhere near as exciting as high-tech futuristic espionage directed with a Hong Kong-style action flair. Was it more satisfying than watching a half-baked sci-fi adaptation with The Affleck? Yes. Don't get me wrong, I love me some Good Will Hunting, Chasing Amy, or even a silly romp with a giant meteor hurtling towards the planet with Michael Bay-melodrama, but Ben-jammin trying to get all reverse engineer on me? Hell-to-the-no. But I put memories of bad movie previews to good work when Brock described a meal he had with friends that was, as he described it, "steak pinwheels," involving spinach, cheese and bacon-wrapping. I don't care if the bacon trend is "so yesterday," bring on a log of hog any day.

From his meal description, I used some thinly-sliced steak, laid a thin layer of cooked spinach over the top, rolled them up, wrapped with proscuitto, and baked before pulling them out when they were still rare. Letting them cool slightly, I cut the beef logs into thinner slabs, laid them flat with a sprinkling of cheese and placed them under the broiler to finish off. Placed artfully over some roasted asparagus, anything can look all artsy-like. But steak pinwheels, I have conquered thee. And found you to be delicious without the help of Ben Affleck's reverse engineering movie brain.

UnRecipe/FoodTrek: Good Fridays and Sunday Casino Royale with Cheese

Many people sought family time and quiet spiritual reflection over this Passover/Easter weekend. I went to the Tulalip Casino on Sunday to eat-it-like-I-stole-it for $19 ($21 and change after tax, plus tip), and had shellfish and bacon on Good Friday. For these edible transgressions I will most likely be cast into the charnel pits of Hell, but at least I'll go knowing I had a full stomach.

Digging on Swine and Making Good Friday Grrrrrrrreat! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

I'm a good person. I pay my taxes, return my library books on time and try not to swear like a sailor in front of impressionable toddlers. But let's say I'm more spiritual than religious, so yes, I went forth on Sunday and burdened several plates with the unholy buffet combinations of cashew chicken stir fry, mass-produced Eggs Benedict, pepperoni pizza, barbecue beef brisket, and sorbet. I won't frighten those who are faint of heart with photos, but suffice it to say, if there is a hell, I'm pretty sure my lower intestines are there now. To be honest, there are, in fact, no photos of this event, and I would have totally taken snaps of this Insane Clown Posse Breakfast Buffet of Earthly Delights, but casino security totally put the NO CAMERA shutdown in my face the second I walked in. So, that was my Easter, in a three-plates-piled-high sort of nutshell, with only my heartburn as a witness.

On Good Friday, when everyone was having their loaves and fishes, I put together a dinner of seared scallops over asparagus with an orange cognac sauce and crispy bits of bacon. The swine definitely tipped the scales towards Totally Not Good Friday, I know, but having a non-four-legged, swimmy meal wasn't the original intent behind the meal. The genesis (har-har) was strangely enough, a bottle of chive oil. I noticed the chives in the strawberry pot of mixed herbs were getting long and they just grow better with regular haircuts, so I snipped them all down. Way too many chives to use before they wilted, I buzzed them in the blender with oil, strained out the solid bits, and now have a nice bottle of bright green goodness to flavor my way through the next month of meals.

Turning chives into chive oil - not quite a miracle, but mighty tasty - Photos by Wasabi Prime

I've made no bones about my love of frozen stuff from Costco and made no attempt to hide the sins of my impulse buying. Giant bag of frozen strawberries? Yes, please, and make it three. I had a few frozen scallops leftover from an ill-conceived bulk purchase of aforementioned frozen critters, and so I thought a flavor-heavy sauce using orange and cognac, and a finishing drizzle of the chive oil would be a good way to finish 'em off. Plus, oh snap, asparagus is on sale and they do go well with all those ingredients and flavors. This is how meals come to be at Wasabi Kitchen Stadium, pure happenstance. Plus the orange I had in the fruit bowl was getting questionably soft, so when there is threat of janky produce, make sauce, because booze and heat will kill everything.

Using the salt of the earth. Literally. - Photo by Wasabi Prime

A more foodie-fancy ingredient that's been inspiring meals of pure happenstance has been specialty salts. I got a few small containers of them over the holidays from my foodie pal, Ms. Radish. Their strong flavors can overpower things, so they're used sparingly, but they add such a nice, richness to food. A dash of smoked salt on the scallops made for a pleasant little hit of flavor, plus it's great to sprinkle on roasting vegetables to give them some interest. And oh my holy Easter Sunday, it's great mixed with regular salt to season the rim of a Bloody Mary.

So maybe the selections of meals and buffets weren't totally Easter or Passover-friendly but I'm all about celebrating the seasons in my own special, socially-inappropriate Wasabi Way. Even if that means frozen shellfish, crispy swine, questionable produce, and a buffet concoction that would make Escoffier turn in his grave.

Salt, in Still Life - Photos by Wasabi Prime