EVOLUTION OF A MEAL WITH FRIENDS

WITH SPIGARELLO, BITTER MELON, RISOTTO, AND IMPROVISATION

One of the many pleasures of the farmers’ market is coming across foods that are unknown to me. This can be different varieties of a known fruit or vegetable, or something entirely new. A few weeks ago I bought a bunch of spigarello at Wychwood Farmers Market. It’s an Italian plant, as you can tell from the name, a brassica that looks like wide blue-green broccoli leaves on slender stems; you eat both the leaves and the stems

the last rose of summer, this feels like, as we enjoy mild weather but shorter days and cooler nights; photo taken on a walk today in Toronto

The vendor, whose name I still don’t know, brings to the market small quantities of less common greens, herbs, and fruits. Recently these included sea buckthorn berries, sorrel leaves, the Peruvian herb huacatay, bijou little gem lettuce, as well as the spigarello

bunch of rather mature spigarello I bought this week from Lily, a vendor at Trinity Bellwoods farmers’ market

I’m always interested in ways of engaging with an ingredient with openness rather than worry. My goal is to figure out how to let its best qualities shine, rather than aiming for a specific outcome. This is a version of the goals I had for raising my kids: to appreciate and foster their innate capacities and character and try not to mess them up!

I’ve now cooked spigarello a few times. The first time I sauteed it, well chopped, in olive oil with spices and some crushed garlic, and used it as part of the dressing for cooked peeled new potatoes. Very successful.

Last Sunday evening I included it in a risotto which began as the central dish of a simple meal that somehow, as I will describe, expanded into a feast.

How does a meal-feast come together? For me the ideal answer is “with unworried flexibility”.

The risotto plan arose because I had bought two fresh free-range chickens from Ayse of Marvelous Edibles at the Saturday market at Wychwood barns. I roasted one that night (while the other went into the freezer for later). We ended up being four hungry people for supper on Saturday, so the four-pound bird, laid on a bed of thickly sliced sweet potato and roasted at 400F with a lemon in its cavity and nothing but salt, pepper, and a smear of olive oil on the outside, was a well-stripped carcass by the end of the meal

the chicken on its bed of sweet potatoes

The bones and carcass (and the lemon) went into a large pot with water to cover, along with any stray pan juices that remained. After a long slow simmer I had two 2-quart jars of light broth, perfect for risotto.

Then I invited a friend for supper the next evening. I had bought a small piece of vacuum-packed fresh Nova Scotia tuna at the Wychwood Market as a special treat. And I had a fresh pork chop that could go on the grill. The main dish of the meal could be a simple risotto made with some of the chicken broth. What to put in the risotto? Perhaps the spigarello, finely chopped, plus kernels cut from a couple of corn cobs.

It occurred to me that if the charcoal grill was fired up for the pork chop, I could also get some eggplants cooked, so that I could turn them into baba ghanouj sometime later in the week.

Then I had another thought: while I was at the stove cooking the risotto, I might as well do something with the two beautiful bitter melons I’d bought the previous week from Ayse at Marvelous Edibles. Ontario-grown bitter melons seem a miracle to me. Important not to waste them. They’d been in the crisper waiting for me to figure out something to do with them. Time to engage.

I cut them in half lengthwise and used a spoon to scrape out the seeds and the soft pillowy membrane that shelters them. I sliced the melon halves thinly crosswise, salted the slices generously, and set them in a colander over a plate for a long half hour. Salting helps take the edge off the bitterness. (Before proceeding you rinse the salt off.)

the two bitter melons stripped of seeds and ready to be sliced

The bitter melon recipe in my South Asia book Mangoes and Curry Leaves is a simple combination of bitter melon, onion, and green chiles. But one of my guests is allergic to capsaicin so chiles were a no-go, and I had no onions. Instead I cooked the bitter melon with slow-cooked finely chopped leeks, as well as a couple of small thinly sliced carrots, sweet elements to balance the bitter. I started with mustard seeds in hot oil, followed by fennel seeds, then the leeks at low heat until very softened (about 15 minutes), and finally the bitter melon and carrot slices. After they’d cooked a short while in the flavoured oil, with frequent stirring, I raised the heat, added a little water and a teaspoon of sugar, covered the pan, and cooked them (checking occasionally) until well softened, 10 to 15 minutes. Near the end I tossed in a few finely chopped pea shoots, for colour and another hit of sweet. I was very happy with the dish.

The risotto was cooking all this time in my heavy Staub pot. I had tossed chopped garlic in olive oil, sprinkled in washed carnaroli rice, and then as I added the second cupful of hot broth I had tossed in the chopped spigarello stems. The chopped leaves and the corn kernels went in later in the cooking. Once the rice was just tender I turned off the heat and I added some butter. Some minutes later I folded in grated parm and set the pot aside, covered.

the risotto

A large handful of green beans got cooked in a little boiling water sometime in there.

As all this was taking shape, Dawnthebaker dropped by with a bottle of wine and a small rack of lamb she’d been given by a grain farmer friend. Now we were five, and the meal evolved into a casual feast.

Dawn rubbed the lamb with a little fish sauce and oil. Onto the grill it went, once the eggplants had come off, all softened and blackened. Dawn took on the eggplants: after she scraped out the flesh she blended in some yogurt and pomegranate molasses. She topped the soft mass with mint leaves from the garden. The last step in the meal prep was a quick sear of the tuna (rubbed with salt and black pepper), which we then sliced and sprinkled with a little delicate soy sauce and a squeeze of lemon.

seared Nova Scotia tuna, sliced (sorry about the extremely shallow focus!)

I put out all the dishes so people could help themselves. We began with slices of the tuna, savouring it. After that it was time to try the risotto, with some bitter melon alongside as a kind of chutney complement. Then there were the lamb ribs for some and the grilled pork for others, along with the eggplant and a heap of bright green beans dressed with a little sesame oil, lemon juice, soy sauce, and salt.

the eggplant with yogurt etc…

All the prep and cooking felt light and easy as the meal evolved in the kitchen, not like a mountain to climb or a daunting list, but instead a progression through possibilities.

I am so grateful to have access to market bounty and to be able to share it with friends.

a rose of Sharon in show-offy bloom