Finger licking good.

One of my very favorite things to order at Uchiko in Austin are the shishito peppers. They arrive piping hot from the pan, blistered and sprinkled with crunch salt, and I can't help but burn my greedy little fingertips eating them. Shishitos are a relatively mild pepper - with a spicy lurker here and there - and so you can eat the little guys in one bite, seeds and all.

When I saw shishito peppers for sale at the Union Square Greenmarket on Friday, I sprung at the chance to try my hand at blistering them at home. How hard could it be?

Turns out, not hard at all. I highly recommend you try it as soon as possible. Like me, you can eat them up on your own. Or, if you're in a sharing mood, make them (and a batch of gin gimlets) for a crowd.

Blistered Shishito Peppers

1/2 pound whole shishito peppers, washed and completely dried
1 tsp. canola oil
Sea salt

Heat a large, heavy-bottomed skillet over high heat until screaming hot. (A drop of water should dance across the surface.) Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, toss the peppers with the oil until evenly coated. Once the pan is hot, add the peppers and cook until well blistered all over, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon.

Remove the peppers to a plate, sprinkle generously with salt, and serve immediately.

Serves two as a snack or appetizer.

What I spied a-marketing.

Spotted at the St. Stephen's Greenmarket on East 82nd Street last Saturday. Amazing colors, right?

Summer's on its way.

This weekend at the Greenmarket, I bought thyme, zucchini, cherries and blueberries.

I'm going to saute the zucchini with the thyme and a bit of lemon and garlic, and eat the fruit with some whipped cream.

Early summer at its finest.

Queenie's Treasury

Happy Memorial Day weekend, my doves! Summer has announced itself in New York with an appropriately warm, overly-humid day, and so I'm spending the afternoon inside with an iced coffee. (And a pot of strawberry-rhubarb compote bubbling on the stove.) While I mop the humidity from my brow, let's take a look at this week's Treasury, shall we?

I was thisclose to ending my subsrciption to Bon Appétit a year or so ago. I was riding out the tail end of the subscription Condé Nast had given me to fill up the issues remaining on my Gourmet tab, and I had been consistently underwhelmed. But then, in late 2011, they hired Adam Rapoport and went through their redesign, and I've been much happier with the magazine ever since. The recipes rarely rise to the level of Gourmet's, but the features have gotten much better - and are beautifully photographed. Case in point: this month's piece on interior designer John Derian, featuring his home in Provincetown. My brother and sister-in-law are in P-Town right now, and I hope they're eating as well as Derian's guests.

I've always been more of an individual cocktail maker than a punch preparer, but this bourbon, strawberry and lime punch from the folks at Prime Meats might just push me along the path to transformation. I'm thinking it's definitely going to need to make an appearance at my brother's 30th birthday festivities in Maine this July, when strawberries will be at their peak in northern New England. Yes, indeed. Fellow guests: prepare yourselves.

Now that Greenmarket season is back in full swing here in New York, I thought it was time to remind you all of the truly awesome blog Lucy's Greenmarket Report. Lucy visits the Union Square Greenmarket pretty much every day it's open, then posts a digest of what's available and what's on the way later in the week. If you're wondering if snap peas will be on hand yet, or if rhubarb is completely played out, Lucy's is the blog to check before heading out to shop for that dinner party.

Lush.

 I didn't make it to the Greenmarket this weekend, busy as I was gallivanting around New England with my fellow members of the class of 1997 - but I spent the week before that with an apartment full of peonies.

Bright pink with bright yellow stamens, and blush pink with hints of burgundy - nothing could be better than a vase of these on every surface.

Greenery.

It's that wonderful time of year, when asparagus season overlaps with ramp season, and all is right with the world.

This weekend, I made a variation on this sauteed asparagus dish - I subbed in ramps for the shallots (added the sliced bulbs at the beginning, and the sliced tops along with the chives at the end). I also happened to have some pea shoots, so I spooned the whole lot down on a bed of those. Extra grassy green flavor, FTW!

Hello, gorgeous!

It's lilac season! In related news, my apartment smells heavenly.

Spicing it up.

Way back when,  one of the very first recipes posted on this blog was for bucatini all'amatriciana. Yes, I've long been a fan of this sauce, made with tomatoes, red onion, bacon and crushed red pepper. Can you blame me? Because it's pretty freaking awesome.

A few weeks ago, while perusing my Pinterest stream, I spied something truly amazing: baked eggs all'amatriciana. And I realized that I'd been missing an incredible opportunity for many, many years. After all, I love eggs - especially when run under the broiler to set the whites and leave the yolks all runny and delicious - and I really, really love bacon, tomatoes, red onion and crushed red pepper.

And so, when I grabbed some local-but-not-yet-seasonal tomatoes at the Greenmarket this weekend, I supplemented them with a few teeny red onions and made my way home to make what I suspected would be one of the best lunches I'd had in quite some time. Spoiler alert: I wasn't wrong.

Turns out these eggs are not only delicious, they're brunch-worthy. They're the food equivalent of a Bloody Mary, minus the booze: spicy, rich, bursting with umami, and loaded with hangover busting powers. And since you can make the sauce the day before, they're perfect for those mornings you know you'll need a little something extra to get moving.

If you're feeling especially sluggish, I recommend extra red pepper.

Baked Eggs All'Amatriciana

1 slice bacon, cut into batons
1/2 small red onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, sliced crosswise
3 plum tomatoes, cut into 1-inch pieces
Kosher salt, to taste
Crushed red pepper flakes, to taste
2 eggs
Parmesan cheese, finely grated, to taste

Heat a saucepan over high heat. When quite hot, add the bacon and immediately turn the heat to medium. Cook until the bacon is crisp and most of the fat is rendered, stirring occasionally. Using a slotted spoon, remove the bacon to a plate, and pour off all but a very thin coating of the fat.

Return the pan to the heat and add the onion. Cook for a few minutes, until softened and just turning translucent. Add the garlic and cook for a minute or two more, then add the tomatoes and season with salt. Cook for three to five minutes, stirring constantly, until the tomatoes have melted and the sauce is becoming watery.

Add the bacon back in, along with a half teaspoon or so of red pepper flakes. Reduce the heat to a simmer, and cook, covered, for ten minutes or so, until the tomatoes have well and truly released their juices.

Remove the lid and allow the sauce to cook 10-15 minutes longer, until the sauce has thickened. Taste for seasoning (it should have a decent kick).

(Everything up to this point can be done up to a day before serving; let the sauce come to room temperature, cover it tightly, and stick it in the fridge. Warm it back up before moving to the next step.)

Turn on the broiler. While it warms up, spread the sauce over the bottom of a large ramekin (I use my 16 ounce models). Crack two eggs on top of the sauce, being careful not to break the yolks. Sprinkle with the cheese.

Place the dish under the broiler for about 5 minutes, until the egg whites are set and firm, and the cheese is browned.

Remove the ramekin to a plate (to protect your table from the heat), sprinkle with a touch of salt and a bit more red pepper, and dig in. 

Serves one as a main course.

Spring is, well, springing.

Hyacinth at the Union Square Greenmarket. Spring has sprung, and I'm back in the Greenmarket swing. Expect an uptick in pictures of flowers, fruits, vegetables and oddly-dressed shoppers.

Ramps: a debrief.

Well, folks, I'm pleased to say that the ramp-alicious dinner party went off without a hitch! We sipped our Gibsons, nibbled our toasts, slurped up our pasta and devoured our lamb. (And the strawberry-rhubarb crostata wasn't half-bad, either.)

Most of what I made last night were tried and true favorites, starting with the Gibsons, which I garnished with pickled ramps in lieu of cocktail onions (click here for the recipe) . (Gibsons are just Martinis with onions instead of olives.) I enjoy a wet Gibson, with four parts gin to one part dry vermouth. A couple dashes of bitters don't hurt, either. The slightly sweet, sour ramp pickles go gorgeously with the spicy gin and herbal vermouth - altogether a truly elegant cocktail.

The Gibsons worked very nicely with the only new recipe I cooked up for this dinner: ramp toasts with Parmesan. The toasts are based on a favorite recipe of mine from the Gourmet cookbook, which is one of the easiest, most basic, most delicious concoctions known to man: finely chopped sweet onion mixed with mayonnaise, spooned onto cocktail bread, topped with cheese and black pepper and toasted in the oven for a few minutes.

I subbed in ramps for the sweet onion and decided to go all out and leave the ramps raw rather than blanch them. The result? A spicy, pure-ramp flavor and general awesomeness. One of these goes a long way, which is really what you want from a cocktail nibble, right? (The new recipe is all yours at the bottom of this post!)

Next up came my personal favorite, fresh fettuccine with ramps and bacon (I left the egg off of this version, since we had small, appetizer-sized helpings.). I made the sauce ahead of time and just warmed it up and tossed it with the freshly cooked pasta when the time came. Super easy, and a huge crowd pleaser, especially when topped with dangerous amounts of Parmesan cheese.

Earlier in the day, I marinated a boneless leg of lamb in olive oil, salt, pepper, smashed garlic and a splash or two of vermouth. I roasted it while we drank our cocktails and ate our pasta, then served it topped with some ramp compound butter and alongside some sugar snaps. (I blanched the sugar snap peas in salted water in the afternoon, then warmed them up in some of the ramp compound butter and a handful of minced chives before sliding them onto the plate next to the lamb.)

After a simple green salad, we moved onto dessert: strawberry-rhubarb crostata with some softly whipped cream. (I threw some dark brown sugar into the cream before whipping it, the better to complement the rhubarb's tang.) This crostata is one of my favorite desserts of all time. It's insanely easy to make, presents beautifully, and is really, truly satisfying to eat. The only change from my original recipe? I subbed in vodka for half the water in the crust recipe, which definitely helped keep things tender and flaky instead of tough and chewy. I'm a convert.

I sent everyone home with a little container of ramp compound butter for their own personal, private consumption, though what we really needed were entire rolls of Certs. Ramps: delicious and delightful, though possibly not for the person sitting next to you on the subway on the way home.

Ramp Toasts
Adapted from The Gourmet Cookbook

2 bunches ramps, well washed and the root ends trimmed
1 cup mayonnaise (Hellman's is my favorite for this; homemade is too thin)
1/4 tsp salt
25 slices cocktail bread
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
Freshly ground black pepper

Pre-heat the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Slice the ramps crosswise, as thinly as possible. Place in a medium mixing bowl along with the mayonnaise. Stir to combine until the ramps and mayonnaise are evenly mixed. Mix in the salt.

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, then fill with as many slices as cocktail bread as possible. Top each slice with a tablespoon or so of the ramp-mayonnaise mixture, then top that with a generous pinch of the cheese. Finish each toast off with a few grinds of pepper.

Toast for 5-7 minutes, checking occasionally, until the bread begins to darken and the cheese is melted and golden-brown. Serve immediately.

Makes 25 toasts.

Queenie's Treasury

Happy weekend, my darlings! It's a chilly, rainy Saturday here in New York - which, though a little sad, is probably just right for the season. That sunny, 70 degree weather we had last week was clearly just a tease.

In far better seasonal news, ramps are here! I haven't made it to the Greenmarket to collect my first haul quite yet, but I already have a ramp-themed dinner party planned for next weekend. I'm thinking Gibsons with quick-pickled ramps, some fresh fettuccine with ramps and bacon, lamb chops and asparagus with ramp butter, and maybe a rhubarb galette for dessert. I'm hoping it'll be epic.

Easter is coming up, and if I decorated Easter eggs, I'd be all over these glitter ones from Martha Stewart. They are as of-the-moment as Easter eggs can hope to be, what with their bright neon sparkle. That might make them a squidge harder to hide for the kiddies, though...

This is now a peach appreciation blog.

I don't think there's anything more to say, do you?

Berries & beans.

On Saturday, I visited my little local Greenmarket outpost, where I grabbed a lovely mixed bouquet and...not much else. Yes, I bought a pint of lackluster tomatoes and snagged some decent Kirbies, but mostly I was disappointed in the selection of veggies. The only thing I bought that went beyond average? Green beans! I mixed them into a beet and green bean salad with dill, one of my summer favorites.

I didn't need any berries, but they were awful pretty. Blueberries...

...and tart, tangy goosberries!

So, instead of being a neighborhood loyalist, I'm heading back to Union Square this Saturday. I need peaches, you guys. And tomatoes and ur-cucumbers and corn and...you get the idea.

PSA: Strawberries are here!

Strawberries made their first appearance at the Greenmarket this morning, kids! Time to start planning your pies, crostatas, shortcakes and compotes.

Here we go, a-marketing.

The greenmarket is approaching full bloom, folks! This weekend I snagged French breakfast radishes, ramps, eggs, peonies, lilies of the valley, asparagus, spinach, cucumbers, red bell peppers and tomatoes. (Those last three are greenhouse-grown, but still local. What can I say? I'm desperate for a preview of summer.)

Fiddleheads were on offer, too. Gorgeous, no?

And lilacs. So many lilacs. The market was fairly carpeted with lilacs. I resisted in favor of my always-and-forever peonies, but I couldn't help pausing to take in a long, deep sniff. (My market shopping bags are courtesy of Baggu, and I love them beyond measure.)

Asparagus: check!

The rhythm of spring is, for me, measured by the gradual arrival of my old friends. First come the tulips and daffodils, then the ramps, and then the asparagus. Asparagus, in all its grassy glory, is the first substantive vegetable to make its appearance in the Northeast. The early harvest is typically the best - both boldly flavored and delicately textured.

I got my hands on my first pound of asparagus on Saturday morning and promptly returned home to make myself an asparagus-centric lunch to remember. Eggs and pork are classic partners for asparagus, and so I decided to saute my spears in bacon fat and top the lot with a fried egg. Chives are delightfully peppery and are simply everywhere right now, so I added a healthy handful of those for good measure. (I love pork and pepper - love!)

Now, if you're veggie, I'd skip the bacon and go for butter here - a little animal fat goes a long way, even if it's just dairy. (I say "just," but let's face it: butter is amazing.) And if you want to use this as a side, skip the egg. Or not. Your call.

Asparagus with Bacon and Shallots

2 slices bacon, cut crosswise into 1/4 inch batons
1 large shallot, peeled and thinly sliced
1/2 pound asparagus, trimmed and cut crosswise on the bias into two-inch pieces
2 tbs. chicken or vegetable stock
2 tbs. chives, finely chopped
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat a large skillet over high heat. Add the bacon and reduce the heat to medium-high. Saute until most of the fat is rendered, but the bacon is still a little chewy. Using a slotted spoon, set aside the bacon.

Add the shallot and saute for a few minutes until a little soft. Add the asparagus, season with salt and pepper, and continue to saute, until the asparagus turns bright green. Add the stock to deglaze the pan stir until it is mostly evaporated. Add one tablespoon of the chives and cook for a minute more.

Transfer to a bowl, top with the rest of the chives (and a fried egg, if that's how you roll), season to taste, and chow down.

Serves one as a main course, two as a side.

They're heee-eeere!

What? Ramps!

That said, I'm feeling a bit guilty about indulging this season. Apparently the ramp-rich lands upstate and in New Jersey are being positively denuded of their crop, which of course threatens our long-term enjoyment of the delectable wild leeks. And, let's face it, it can't be good ecologically.

Are you planning to eat a lot of ramps this season? Why or why not?

Winter's on the wing.

I went to the Union Square Greenmarket inhumanly early this Saturday in the hopes that I'd snag a healthy portion of the season's first ramp haul. Sadly, it was not to be.

No ramps appeared, but I did see some gorgeous flowers (tulips, hyacinths and potted ranunculus), lovely lettuces and adorable, teeny little onions.

I skipped home with dug legs, pea shoots, farm eggs and a few handfuls of the tiniest, sweetest cipollini onions I could find.

Consolation prizes these are not.

Oh, and, yes: that title is something of a wink to my fellow musical theater nerds. Hi there!

Marketing.

I went to the Union Square Greenmarket for the first time in more than a month on Saturday; I've been frequenting the smaller St. Stephen's Greenmarket up near my apartment, but I'd missed the diversity and selection of Union Square - especially the apples.

Nowhere is the change of season more evident than in the Greenmarket's evolving produce.

Late-season tomatoes are hanging on by a thread, but corn has completely vanished. Berries have been completely displaced by apples, and zucchini has been supplanted by acorn and butternut squash.

Carrots come in every color of the rainbow, and cauliflower abounds in similar variety, most excitingly the Escher-like romanesco.

And while I know I'll be totally sick of squash and tubers come March, I'm pretty excited about them right now.

Nothing simpler.

While kirby cucumbers abound - and are wonderful - at New York's Greenmarkets in the summer, lemon cucumbers are less common. Imagine my delight, then, to encounter the round little fellers at Cherry Lane's St. Stephen's Greenmarket stand on Saturday morning. There they were, nestled in among the kirbies, looking for all the world like miniature honeydew melons.

Lemon cucumbers are round and pale yellow, which, I suppose, is where they get their name. Their flavor is a bit subtler than other varieties of cucumber, and their flesh is silkier, too. All in all, they're flat-out delicious. I enjoyed the first of mine very simply, just sliced and topped with a light sprinkle of sea salt. I have no solid plans for the remainder of my haul, though I'm thinking a cucumber sandwich (warm, toasted bread, a touch of mayonnaise, salt and pepper - and, of course, cucumber) might be in order.

What would you do with such bounty?