Our first meal outdoors was a couple of weeks ago, pretty much the same day as last year and the year before, but just as soon as we'd finished our lunch it started to snow. As much as I love the cold grey light of what I call winter-spring, its freshness and crispness and the odd crimson rosehip still clinging to the bushes in the garden, I cannot wait to eat that first meal of the year in the open air. I sometimes think I enjoy these unpredictable spring meals more than those more laid-back dinners at the height of summer. I feel I am bucking the system, cheating a little, getting something slightly illicit (even if I do have to wear a sweater) by putting a meal on the table when most sane people are tucked up in the warmth indoors.
Usually some sort of grill, a spatch-cocked chicken with garlic, or a fillet of lamb with anchovies and olive oil, this year's first feast was instead a one-pot stew of pork sausages and Jerusalem artichokes spiked with whole lemons and fennel seed. The lemons I added to spritz up what is essentially winter food shone in the bright spring sunshine, and made us feel better about eating with our pullovers on. In fact, it was winter food eaten in spring sunshine, albeit with a bowl of infant salad leaves to wipe up the juices.
Whichever way you look at it, this is too early for true outdoor food. The weather may be kind but the ingredients just aren't there, save a few greens and some sweet, young leeks. I bought a bag of these this week just to have something spring-like in the house - they can be grilled or cooked in boiling water and finished off with a sweet mustardy dressing.
The nearest sign of spring proper is in the salad department. I firmly believe that any table in the open air needs a bowl of seasonal salad on it - its presence sets the tone of the meal and what sorts of leaves there are will remind everyone firmly of the time of year. Tiddly leaves of the usual lettuce type are a sound start to an early spring salad, but there are more interesting things to be had. I haven't got anything much planted yet, so I tend to pick up whatever amuses me. This week it was tiny mustard'n'cress-style pots of pumpkin, onion and purple radish sprouts, all about a couple of centimetres high. The onion seeds I had sprouted myself in the salad sprouter. They might be tender, but have a punchy flavour that intrigues and delights all at once. I spent most of my lunch-time lifting the little leaves out of the salad on my plate and trying to identify them.
Pork sausages with artichokes and lemon
A recipe with both the warmth of a casserole and the fresh, spring-weather note of lemon and parsley to it. The parsley is crucial, by the way, not just a token. I am not sure you need anything here, other than a few bright-green leaves. We ate cavolo nero, the long leaves of black cabbage, bought at the market on Saturday, but some crisp, lightly cooked spring cabbage would be perfect, too. Serves 4 with greens.
8 really good pork sausages
olive oil
4 medium onions
2 cloves garlic
250g small mushrooms
500g Jerusalem artichokes
1 large lemon
1 level tsp fennel seed
light stock or water to cover
small bunch of flat-leaf parsley
steamed cavolo nero, spring cabbage or purple sprouting to serve
Brown the sausages all over in a little of the oil in a deep casserole. Set aside. Peel the onions and cut them into thick segments. Add the onions to the pan in which you browned the sausages, pouring in a little oil if you need to. Cook over a moderate heat till they are almost soft enough to crush with a wooden spoon. This will take about 15-20 minutes. Add the garlic and mushrooms and cook for a further few minutes.
Peel the artichokes with a potato peeler then cut them in half lengthways. Add them to the onions, pushing them to the side of the pan and letting them colour slightly. Now pile the sausages into the pan, cut the lemon into fat chunks and tuck them in along with a good seasoning of both salt and black pepper and the fennel seed.
Pour over enough stock or water to cover - about 500ml - and bring to the boil. Simmer for 30 minutes until the vegetables are truly tender. If there is too much liquid, then turn up the heat and let it reduce a little. Stir in the parsley, check the seasoning and serve with the greens.
Leeks with mustard dressing
24 thin, young leeks
For the mustard vinaigrette:
2 tbsp smooth Dijon mustard
1 tbsp red-wine vinegar
6 tbsp olive oil
For the crumb topping:
100g fresh white bread
butter and olive oil
a lemon
a handful parsley leaves
Tidy up the leeks. Rinse them thoroughly. Cook them in a deep pot of boiling water till they are tender to the point of a knife. Depending on the age and size of your leeks, this will take 8-10 minutes.
Mix the mustard and vinegar with a pinch of salt and a grinding of black pepper, then beat in the olive oil with a fork or a small whisk.
Once you have drained the leeks, leave them for a few minutes in a colander till they lose all their water, then lay them side by side in a shallow dish and dress with the mustard vinaigrette while they are still warm. Whizz the bread to large crumbs in a food processor. Warm a thick slice of butter and a little oil in a frying pan. When it is hot, tip in the breadcrumbs and let them sizzle, then turn down the heat and let them cook until they are golden. I never leave them at this point - they burn without warning.
Grate the zest from the lemon and chop the parsley, neither too finely. Stir the lemon and parsley into the crumbs and tip over the leeks. Serve warm or at room temperature.
A dressing for a spring salad
Salad dressings for spring tend to be lighter and sharper than they are the rest of the year. Lemon or lime zest and juice has a cleaner note than vinegar, as does lemon oil. Salad leaves such as dandelion, basil, parsley, young spinach, sorrel, mizuna and landcress are those to look for, tossed with young sprouts from sunflower, pumpkin and radish seeds. I briefly crisp salad leaves for 15 minutes in ice cold water before dressing them.
1 tsp very finely grated lemon zest
juice of half a lemon
4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
tbsp of grated pecorino
Put the zest into the bottom of a salad bowl. Squeeze in the lemon juice. Mix in the oil and pecorino. Now toss the salad leaves in the dressing and serve immediately.
