This meal was nothing fancy – honestly, the pasta was primarily a vehicle for another batch of bright and zingy sorrel pesto. I made the sorrel pesto without pine nuts this time, instead tossing a bunch of chopped hazelnuts into the pasta when I tossed it to provide a little crunch.

Also in the mix: thin stalks of fresh, local asparagus, which I chopped into short little bits and tossed, raw, into the hot pasta, some tiny peas from the freezer, and a light dusting of finely grated Divine Providence. This pasta was simple, satisfying, and full of the flavors of springtime.

There must be something in the air, because even before I clicked over to Michael Ruhlman’s blog yesterday, I had pizza on the brain. See, I had these baby artichokes that I picked up on Saturday, and for some reason, the thing I wanted to do most with them was to make an artichoke pizza. But with everything else that was going on over the weekend, I wasn’t able to get my butt in gear and make a batch of dough ahead of time, so I asked Mike if he would do it for me. I forwarded him a few recipes that were close to what I had in mind, and he settled on the Jim Lahey version Deb blogged about last year.

When I got home from work, the dough was ready to work with, and after our customary break for cocktails and catching up on the day, I started on dinner. First, I trimmed half a dozen baby artichokes, slicing them thin and placing them into a bowl of acidulated water to keep them from browning. I sliced up a ball of uber-fresh Narragansett Creamery mozzarella and set it aside for later. Then I got to work on the saucy component of our pie, which was quite possibly my favorite element of our meal.

Into the food processor went two garlic cloves, a couple of spoonfuls of toasted pine nuts, one bag of young sorrel leaves from Ledge Ends Produce, and a couple of pinches of sea salt. I pulsed this into a coarse, chunky mixture, then, with the motor running, drizzled in some olive oil. I added the pesto to a small bowl of freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano, then stirred it to combine. I tasted it for seasoning and… well, the pesto almost didn’t make it past this point of the evening, because it was so darn good. Bright, lemony, beautifully green, I want to make this pesto for as long as this sorrel is available. I want to spread it on sandwiches, toss it with pasta, spoon it over grilled fish…

But back to the pizza. We had two balls of dough, one of which I stretched out into a square-ish round, and I slathered some of that pesto all over it. I added a layer of cheese, the sliced artichokes, a drizzle of olive oil, and a sprinkling of sea salt. This went into our preheated oven (onto a pizza stone) for about 35-40 minutes at the highest heat setting (Broil, for us). Then I pulled the pizza out, grated on a little more parm, dotted the remaining sorrel pesto over the top, and let it rest for a few minutes before cutting it up to serve.

The crust was heavenly, the artichokes tender and crisp at the edges, the cheese as creamy and gooey as ever, but it was the sorrel pesto that really made this pizza sing.

Dear Bomster scallops:

I have tried and tried to do right by you. I’ve seared you and crusted you, chowdered you and grilled you, and I was beginning to think we just weren’t a good match. You don’t behave like those other scallops do. You’re different. Special. I’ve cooked a lot of scallops in my time, and I like to think I know what I’m doing, but I was starting to feel like you were just out of my league.

That fritto misto you were part of about a week ago gave me hope, though. You fried up beautifully with a light cloak of seasoned flour, finally revealing that soft interior everyone loves. But last night, we had a little one-on-one time – just you, me, and a warm olive oil bath – and it changed everything.

I hope it’s not too early to say this… but I think I’m falling for you. Let’s get together again soon.

I am officially sick of Winter. I’ve been trying to be a good sport, keep a positive attitude, enjoy the license to eat rich, rib-sticking food, but darn it, I’m so over it. I’m sick of cold hands, perpetual sniffles, and racking my brain to come up with new and creative ways of cooking root vegetables.

So I can’t tell you how nice it was to see fresh little green things around the market last Saturday. I just about burst into song when we got to the table at Ledge Ends Produce and saw not just beautiful microgreens and mesclun, but radishes, bundles of tiny fresh herbs, and sorrel – tiny young leaves, which I knew would be just perfect in our Valentine’s Day salad course. I’ve been plucking random left-over leaves from the bag in the days since and eating them unadorned, but I wanted to find a better way of using the remainder.

We had a piece of Arctic Char in the freezer, and fish is always a good bet for a light and quick weeknight dinner, so I decided to use the rest of that pretty sorrel in a sauce for the fish. I put the leaves in the food processor with a bit of salt and Meyer lemon juice, then whizzed it until smooth, drizzling in a bit of olive oil. The sauce was a little thinner than I wanted, so I added a dollop of plain yogurt from Narragansett Creamery and pulsed the mixture again. It was just the thing to give the sauce a bit more body while keeping it light, and the bright, tangy flavors were a great counterpoint to the silky fish.

Incredibly fresh pieces of wild striped bass, a puree of potatoes and sorrel – I was so excited about this meal, but I forgot that as bright and lovely as sorrel tastes, it turns kind of grey-green when cooked.

Oh, well. At least it tasted good.

Until last night, I can’t say I had ever tasted sorrel. I certainly hadn’t cooked with it at home, but I was eager to try. I asked Mike to pick some up if he saw it at the Greenmarket, and he did, adding a gorgeous bunch of spring onions to boot.

When searching for recipes that include sorrel, soup seemed to come up most frequently. I figured the simplest thing to do would be to start with my basic potato and whatever-member-of-the-onion-family-I-have-on-hand recipe (pretty much Julia’s), and add the sorrel to that. I enriched it at the end with a healthy dollop of crème fraiche and garnished it with fresh chives from the garden. The photos don’t do it justice, but it really was a lovely pale green, fresh and bright tasting, and perfect for a chilly spring night.

Potato, Spring Onion & Sorrel Soup

3 tablespoons butter
1 large bunch spring onions
4 large baking potatoes
8 cups water
3-4 cups sorrel leaves
1/3 cup crème fraiche
Salt and pepper
Fresh chives for garnish

Melt butter in a large soup pot over medium heat. Trim and chop the spring onions (you can substitute regular onions or leeks if you wish – I use about 2 cups total) and add them to the pot. Season with salt and cook a few minutes until softened. Peel the potatoes and chop them into chunks of relatively equal size (I cut mine into about 1 inch chunks; small chunks will cook more quickly). Add the potatoes to the pot, cover with 8 cups of water, and season with salt and pepper. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes. Tear or chop the sorrel leaves into small pieces and add them to the soup, stirring through. Simmer for an additional five minutes, and then turn off the heat. Puree with an immersion blender until smooth. Taste and adjust seasonings if necessary. Stir in the crème fraiche, ladle into bowls, and top with chives.