Side

GINA For some reason, there are always potatoes in the pantry. So pull them out and make some potato skins! Grilling them gives them a nice spin, and since we are the first family of barbecue, these skins are complemented by barbecue sauce, pulled pork, and bacon. And you guys all know how I feel about the pig . . . so I like to call these the “double pig.” They also make a nice pick-me-up when you’re entertaining, so, to make them more like appetizers, you can slice them in quarters, arrange on a platter, and sprinkle with green onions. Trust me, these will be eaten so fast they’ll be history. PAT That’s right, pig layered on pig, y’all! Having potato skins, and adding two types of pork—bacon and pulled pork—truly puts a guy (that’s me, Pat!) in hog heaven. For you non–pig lovers (surely only a few of you), you can always substitute turkey bacon, chicken, or even beef brisket for the bacon and pulled pork.

You can’t have collard greens without corn bread, and these bite-sized corncob-shaped sticks are a cute way to serve them. You can also bake the batter in a 9-inch cast-iron skillet—just cook the vegetables in the same skillet you’d like to bake the bread in.

PAT You won’t find a collard green—or a green of any kind, for that matter—that Gina hasn’t mastered and found a dozen ways to cook. She’s queen of the twists on greens. The idea for this particular twist came from stuffed cabbage with a vinegary red sauce—but we think this is even better than that recipe. Don’t you?

Although these savory, salty little bundles are a little too fat to truly resemble cigars, rolling the crabs in the prosciutto does employ a technique used by skilled workers in Cuba. It might also seem familiar to you if you’ve ever hand-rolled anything in papers. For directions on cleaning the soft-shell crabs, see page 32. Make sure you go easy on the salt in this dish because the prosciutto already contains plenty.

This is a dish to transport you to the Italian Riviera—the freshest sardines, simply grilled, splashed with lemon, briny olives, and the sweet anise flavor of the season’s first fennel. This is also finger food, so get out a big stack of napkins and don’t eat them with those who are excessively dainty. They don’t deserve them anyway. It would play into the whole relaxed-by-the-sea thing if you have your fishmonger scale and clean the sardines.

For those of you who crave the ubiquitous duck breast all dressed up for company, I offer you my version, the little ducky paired with sweet-and-sour roasted figs and given a little edge from the arugula. I won’t lie—it’s good. However, in exchange for my providing a traditional duck breast recipe, you must promise me that you will try either Party Tripe on Soft Polenta (page 159) or maybe Geoduck Crudo with Fennel and Radish (page 24). Do what scares you.

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.

I’m an ear man—if we’re talking pig. Crispy pig’s ears are gelatinous, cartilaginous, rich, chewy goodness that make an awfully lovely garnish for a fresh panzanella bursting with summer vegetables. You’ll want to allow about half an ear per person, which should amount to about a pound, depending on the pigs, of course. As with many of the best cuts of the pig, it takes a while to get ears into a perfect state for eating. You can boil them, but to get them perfectly tender and ready for frying, I like to poach them in oil first. You need to plan ahead—they take about six hours in a slow oven—but you could do that the day before, or even in the evening when it’s cooler out, then finish them off the day you’re going to serve them.

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.