Gluten Free

You must believe me when I tell you that making sweet, smoky, succulent bacon with your own two hands is an undertaking you will never regret. It adds something indescribable to dishes like Potato and Asparagus Salad with Home-Cured Bacon and Egg (page 137), and tastes pretty amazing alongside a fried egg. In the restaurants, we cure our own and use it in everything from pastas to panzanella to lentils. Aleppo is a medium-spicy, fruity red pepper that comes from Syria. It has a nice complexity and heat that vanishes almost the minute you notice it’s there. You can find it in Middle Eastern groceries and on the Internet. For this recipe, you’ll need four days, a smoker, and wood chips, preferably hickory.

The much-maligned mélange gets its name from the undeserved yet pervasive bad reps held by each of the three principal ingredients in this delectable side: turnips, Brussels sprouts, and chestnuts. But I guarantee you’ll find that baby turnips are sweet and juicy and bear no resemblance to the bitter root vegetable you think you know. Gently sautéing wedges of fresh Brussels sprouts renders them crisp-tender and nutty, while browning chestnuts in a cast-iron pan makes removing their skins a snap, giving you unfettered access to the earthiness inside. Pork jowls, as the name implies, are pig cheeks. When cured, jowls become guanciale; braised, they offer amazing versatility and can then be sautéed, grilled, or added to soups. Like pork belly, jowls have tons of flavor and are very rich. I find that braising helps tame them a bit and makes the cut a little less intense. You’ll probably need to special order this cut from your butcher, but it’s worth it. You’ll need to start this recipe one day ahead.

Swiss chard, with fleshy stems that offer nice texture, has a milder flavor than other greens such as rapini or mustard. I highlight its sweetness with golden raisins and white wine, then add pine nuts for richness and some crunch. Be sure to dry the chard carefully before sautéing, because it gives off a lot of liquid.

I have to say that this is one of my all-time favorite salads, my variation of an Alice Waters recipe I came across years ago, and I’ve always loved the simplicity and the flavor. Shave the mushrooms immediately prior to serving, so that they release their aromas. It’s so intoxicating that you’d think they were pheromones. This salad is actually pretty sexy.

Many recipes that pair carrots with orange call for cooking the carrots with orange juice. Here, I use strips of peel instead, so that you get just a hint of orange, keeping the flavors bright. In the restaurants, we use Thumbelina carrots, a cute, round variety with incredible sweetness. Don’t go crazy chopping the mint—you don’t want to turn it into paste. Just do a few quick strokes with the knife, toss with the carrots, and serve right away. You might want to caution your guests not to eat the orange peel.

This is my idea of bacon and eggs. Thick, homemade bacon adding a smoky, salty touch to gorgeous spring asparagus and tender new-crop potatoes, all crowned with a perfectly poached egg—it doesn’t get much better than this. When you break into the soft yolk, it melts into the vegetables, forming a luxurious sauce. This recipe makes four hearty portions. If you would like to serve six smaller plates, keep the other quantities the same and simply increase the number of eggs.

There are as many springtime things in this salad as possible. In Seattle, we have so much rain that when spring comes, it comes HARD—favas, nettles, peas, spring garlic, and a host of wild little greens that go perfectly together. Regular balsamic vinegar is too heavy; white balsamic still has the sweetness, but it’s lighter and allows the flavors of the vegetables to really shine through. This recipe makes more vinaigrette than you’ll need for the salad. Use the remaining dressing on other combinations of delicate spring vegetables and greens.

For those of you not familiar with the term, “alligator pear” is a charming and old-fashioned name for avocado. I use the term here because this is less a recipe than a memory. When I was growing up, my parents thought it the height of sophistication to serve us halved avocados as an accompaniment to our after-dinner salad. They filled them with olive oil and sprinkled them with salt and never failed to mention how rare and expensive a treat we were getting. This is an homage to that family dinner tradition—half an alligator pear, made lighter and more savory with the addition of buttery Ligurian Taggiasca olives and a lightly dressed arugula salad. Serve them the next time you entertain and raise a fork to the Stowells as you do.

This dish is one of the simple joys that comes from freshly dug new potatoes and the inimitable artichoke. You need nothing more than garlic and a hit of thyme to create a side that totally speaks of the earth and that would make even a simple grilled steak sublime.

This delicious salad makes a solid first course or a hearty addition to a small-plate menu. Mackerel is a fantastic fish, with rich flesh and a deep flavor that is tamed and enhanced by a quick pickling treatment. Crisp radishes and assertive watercress hold up to the forward flavors, while a sprinkling of toasted pistachios adds nice texture and crunch. For a fun variation, use the same pickling liquid on sardines. Because sardine fillets are much thinner, they can be cooked simply by heating the liquid to boiling and pouring it over the fillets. Continue as directed with the rest of the recipe.

Puntarelle is also called Catalonian chicory, though I think of it as a truly Italian vegetable. It is in the chicory family, with thicker stalks tapering to serrated leaves that look a bit like those of a dandelion. The leaves have a little bite to them, with more of a fennel-endive thing going on in the stalks. It might take some searching to find it in the market—you could always try asking your market if they would order it—but it’s worth seeking out. In Rome, puntarelle is traditionally paired with strong flavors such as anchovy and garlic that can match the strong flavor of the vegetable, as I do here, along with an ice-water soak that takes off some of the edge. If you can’t find puntarelle, I suppose you could substitute frisée, but then you’re kind of missing the magic.

In this fabulous early-winter side, roasted delicata is caramelized in the oven and accented with the assertive flavor of dark amber chestnut honey. Delicata is a striped, hard-shelled heirloom squash that trades flavor for transportability. Unlike butternut or kabocha, delicata can be cooked and eaten with the peel intact. You can substitute other types of winter squash in this recipe, just make sure you peel them first and vary the cooking time accordingly.

You may know rapini as broccoli rabe, that delightfully bitter green you see in the market next to its mild cousin, chard. Blanching the rapini first tames a bit of the bitterness, while the straightforward preparation allows the vegetable to still be its bold self. Serve with roasted or grilled meats, dishes with assertive flavors that will hold up to the greens.

This salad is a stellar addition to a midwinter antipasto plate, full of bright flavors that seem to hint at warmer days ahead. In the short, dark days of a Seattle January, that’s especially welcome. Because of the salad’s simplicity, it’s important to use the heaviest, sweetest oranges you can find and use a firm, briny olive. Arbequinas or Gaetas are fine substitutes for the Taggiascas; mushy supermarket Kalamatas are not. Serve the salad shortly after you prepare it. As it sits, the flavor of the shallot continues to develop and the lovely balance of the salad is lost.

Wild watercress appears sporadically in farmers’ markets, but it also grows in more places than you might think. In Seattle, it’s positively thick around Lake Washington and easy to find and pick. Whether you forage for your own or buy it from a purveyor, make sure you pick or buy more than you think you’ll need. I like to use only the very freshest tips and bits for the salad. The peppery flavor is a nice contrast to the mild, grassy flavor of the pecorino and marries well with the earthy finish of the artichokes.

Lobster mushrooms are named for their gorgeous color and appear in Northwest markets from August through October. They have a delicate flavor and are very fine textured, making them a lovely addition to the plate. The preserved garlic ties the whole dish together, so don’t be tempted to substitute fresh. Not only would the taste be too harsh for this delicate mushroom, but you’d also miss the mellow richness the preserved garlic offers. If you can’t find lobster mushrooms, you can use other wild mushrooms such as chanterelles or hedgehogs, though the flavor will be different.

Cauliflower is another one of those vegetables that gets a bad rap. Yes, it’s in the cabbage family, and when the cauliflower is raw, the connection is easy to identify. Take a page from the Italians, then, who aren’t afraid of oil and know that giving some vegetables a dip in the fryer brings out their best characteristics. In this case, the cauliflower turns sweet and silken; add in some smoky shreds of ham hock and, well, you’ll be begging to eat cauliflower more often. Ask your butcher to split the ham hock for you; they have big saws for that very purpose. And don’t you dare throw away the liquid left over from boiling the ham hock. One bonus of this recipe is a soup waiting to happen.

Most recipes for basic lentils call for you to cook the legumes with vegetables until the lentils are tender. In the restaurants, we precook the lentils with celery, onions, and garlic, then finish the dish with finely diced vegetables that keep their flavor and texture, adding pancetta for richness and texture. I’m sure that once you try this technique, you won’t go back to the mushy mélange that home cooks usually end up with. The lentils make a nice accompaniment to fish and poultry entrées.

This is a very grown-up salad and my idea of a fantastic lunch. It also happens to be a great way to use loins left over when you’ve braised or stewed the richer, darker pieces of your rabbit. Like pork tenderloin or filet mignon, rabbit loin can’t take that sort of cooking. Give it a quick sear instead, and toss it with crisp pancetta and frisée in a Chianti vinaigrette. You’ll find yourself making rabbit more often just to end up with spare loins.

This lovely salad can slide from late winter into early spring when bouquets of radishes proliferate in the market. Some people find endive too harsh, but here the flavor is mellowed a bit and the leaves are given extra snap by a saltwater soak. This is a study in textures, with the silky endive accented by the crunch of the nuts, all lightly bound with a tart but delicate Meyer lemon dressing. Because of the egg yolk, the vinaigrette won’t last for more than two days in the fridge, but you’ll find lots of uses for any leftover dressing. Try tossing it with boiled Piccolo potatoes or use it on your favorite greens.