Pickled Mussels with Radishes, Toasted Coriander Seed, and Fennel

What meaning comes to mind first when you hear the word gather? I thought of bringing people together, gathering a group around a table. The other way to think about gathering is in the act of obtaining ingredients for a meal. You go out to gather what you will prepare, and that might be from a garden, a farm, a forest, the ocean, or the grocery store. The new book Gather: Everyday Seasonal Food from a Year in Our Landscapes by Gill Meller is really about both uses of the word but he focuses on what’s available for gathering from the landscape at different times of year. For him, it’s not the source of the ingredients that’s as important as the experience of the time and place for the flavors they offer. He encourages taking a moment to enjoy the first taste of a dish that’s particular to a season. Of course though, he also points out that considering the journey made by the ingredients before arriving on the plate makes cooking and eating more rewarding. The recipes here aren’t complex, but there are some new and different combinations of flavors. The chapters are organized by places where the food might be found like Farm, Seashore, Garden, Orchard, Field, Woodland, Moor, and Harbor. There are simple compositions like Goat Cheese with Rhubarb and Lovage served on toasted bread, Spring Cabbage Salad with Honey and Sprouted Lentils, and Barbecued Little Gems with Cucumber White Beans and Tahini. There are salads, main courses, and sweets sprinkled throughout each chapter. There are tomato and zucchini dishes in the Garden chapter that I’ll be turning to as soon as those star ingredients appear this year, and the Harbor chapter had me marking almost every page. The dish I had to try first was something new for me: Pickled Mussels. The cooked mussels are quickly pickled in apple cider vinegar with coriander seeds, and they’re served with crisp radish slices. In the book, apple slices are included but I opted for fennel instead since it’s in season here. 

Like all the recipes in this book, this one is about subtle flavors that add just the right note to a dish. Apple cider vinegar was very specifically chosen as was coriander seed. In the spirit of gathering what is available at this time of the year, I brought home locally-grown purple daikon and watermelon radishes for their pretty colors and peppery flavors. The thinly sliced fennel added sweet, fresh, anise to the mix. To prepare the mussels, I always soak them first in water with a little flour to purge them and pull off any remaining beards or debris. After being drained and rinsed, the mussels went into a large pot with a half-cup of boiling water to which a couple of bay leaves and some thyme sprigs had been added. I was delighted to gather those herbs from my own yard. The pan was covered, and the mussels opened after a couple of minutes of cooking. They were removed from the pan, and the cooking liquid was strained into a bowl. When cool, the mussels were removed from their shells. Cider vinegar, coriander seeds, some of the cooking liquid, and salt and pepper were combined and poured over the mussels. This was left to sit while the other ingredients were prepped. The vegetables were all thinly sliced with a mandoline and scattered over plates. The mussels and dressing were added to each, and I placed a few frissee leaves among the arrangement. 

In a short amount of time, the mussels take on nice pickle-y flavor from the apple cider vinegar. And, the crunchy, fresh vegetables make great partners for it. This was surprisingly good for such a simple mix of things. I’ll be thinking back to this book as I gather what’s freshest and best in the coming weeks and truly enjoying the flavors.  

Pickled mussels with radishes, toasted coriander seed, and apples 
Recipe excerpted with permission from Gather: Everyday Seasonal Food from a Year in Our Landscapes by Gill Meller, published by Quadrille March 2017, RRP $35.00 hardcover. 

There is something of Normandy in this fresh salad: a bicycle ride down the Route du Cidre; a peppery-pink radish with delightfully fresh, cold butter; a bowl of plump, yellow wild mussels, cooked in cream on some beach off Gouville-sur-Mer. It’s almost like you taste it in French. This dish is about perfectly cooked mussels, sweet, crunchy apple, and the acidity of good cider vinegar—and how they all play out when they get together. I love the orangey air that toasted coriander seed brings to the delicate pickle—it’s well worth a try. You can prepare the mussels the day before, but I like them best once they have cooled and before they see the fridge. 

serves 2 

2 bay leaves 
2 thyme sprigs 
18oz [500g] mussels, cleaned 
1 Tbsp good-quality cider vinegar 
1/2 tsp golden superfine sugar 
2 tsp small coriander seeds, toasted 
1 dessert apple 
4 to 6 firm radishes, with tops, if available 
Salt and freshly ground black pepper 

Place a large pan over high heat. Add a scant 1/2 cup [100ml] water, the bay leaves, and thyme sprigs. When the water is boiling hard, add the mussels, and place a close-fitting lid on the pan. Cook, shaking the pan once or twice, for 1 to 2 minutes, or until the mussel shells are all just open. Turn off the heat, then drain the mussels into a colander set over a bowl to catch the cooking liquor. Discard any mussels that haven’t opened up. 

When the mussels are cool enough to handle, remove the meat from the shells, and place it in a bowl, reserving the drained cooking liquor. Add the cider vinegar, sugar, coriander seeds, and 2 Tbsp of the cooking liquor to the mussel meat, stir through, then season with a little salt and pepper. 

To serve, quarter and core the apple and then cut each quarter into 2 or 3 wedges. Divide the apple pieces roughly between two plates. Slice the radish into 1/16 to 1/8 in [2 to 3mm] rounds, and scatter them over the apple, along with any radish top leaves, if available. Finally, spoon over the mussels along with plenty of their coriander-spiked dressing, and serve immediately.

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Lentil and Pickled Shallot Salad with Berbere Croutons

I was drawn to the latest Ottolenghi cookbook like a moth to flame. NOPI, a restaurant concept from the Ottolenghi group, opened in London’s Soho in early 2011, and the book of the same name was released last fall. The intent was for this to be a “grown-up restaurant” with a different feel from the Ottolenghi delis but still without any “stuffiness or formality.” The menu at NOPI is a mix of the flavors Ottolenghi has come to be known for with more Asian influences from chef Ramael Scully. In creating NOPI: The Cookbook, the goal was to revise the dishes from the restaurant to be more easily prepared in a home kitchen, and those changes from the menu are described in head notes. There are also several suggestions for serving parts of recipes in different ways like using sauces for a different type of meat or serving part of the dish on its own. For instance, I probably won’t attempt the complete recipe for White Pepper-Crusted Lamb Sweetbreads with Pea Puree and Miso, but the suggestion to try the pea puree with miso as a dip in place of guacamole sounds fantastic. The Burrata with Blood Orange, Coriander Seeds, and Lavender Oil recipe comes with delicious options like using white peaches, pink grapefruit, roasted red grapes, pickled pears, or kohlrabi in place of the oranges. The Pistachio and Pine Nut-Crusted Halibut with Wild Arugula and Parsley Vichyssoise looks like the picture of spring, and I can’t wait for eggplant season to try the Urad Dal Puree with Hot and Sour Eggplant. Among the desserts, the Caramel Peanut Ice Cream with Chocolate Sauce and Peanut Brittle is extremely tempting. And, there are also brunch dishes and cocktails in the book. The page where I landed first, though, was the one with the Lentil and Pickled Shallot Salad with Berbere Croutons. With colorful sliced beets and radishes, it was a perfect late winter salad. 

This is the time of year when I find the prettiest radishes in all shapes, sizes, and colors at our farmers’ markets and farm stands. I brought home some pale, purple, not-too-big daikon radishes from Boggy Creek Farm along with their dainty arugula leaves for this salad. First, the Puy lentils needed to be cooked, rinsed, and drained. Meanwhile, shallots were thinly sliced and tossed with olive oil and salt. They were spread into an even layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet and roasted for just a few minutes to bring out the sweetness but not add much color. While still warm, they were sprinkled with sherry vinegar and set aside to cool. Sourdough bread was torn into small pieces and tossed with olive oil and berbere spice which is an Ethiopian chile powder with a little cinnamon among other spices. The croutons were baked until golden. The dressing was a mix of sherry vinegar, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, and olive oil. Raw golden beets and round red radishes along with the purple daikons were thinly sliced with a mandolin. Those were added with the cooled lentils, shallots, cilantro leaves, arugula, and some of the croutons to a bowl to be tossed with the dressing. The salad was served on a platter and topped with the remaining croutons. 

The raw, sharp radishes and earthy beet slices combined well with the lentils in the dressing. The vinegar-soaked shallots added a nice punch of flavor, and crunchy croutons are always welcome especially when they come with the added flavor of spicy chile powder. Seared salmon was a great pairing with this salad and a bit of a twist on the classic salmon and lentils combo. Whether it’s full recipes or borrowed parts and pieces, I’m excited to try more things from this book. 

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Mahi Mahi and Semi-Dried Pickled Root Vegetables with Herb Salt

There are plenty of challenges for a restaurant to source all of its food locally in a place like Austin where we have 80 degree December days when the farmers’ markets are bursting with great produce. So, imagine what it must be like to rely on local ingredients at a restaurant in Sweden where winter is long and dark and summer is brief. And yet, that challenge is just what makes Faviken Magasinet, a mountain estate and restaurant in northern Sweden, so interesting. In the new book Faviken, Magnus Nilsson describes how he transformed the menu to take advantage of the best of locally produced food and make the remote restaurant a destination. I recently received a review copy of the book. The restaurant’s menu changes throughout the year and even from day to day depending on what’s available. Gardens just outside the kitchen supply freshly-picked vegetables and herbs in the summer, and that produce is then carefully stored, dried, pickled, fermented, or otherwise preserved for winter use. For meats, Nilsson has sought out specific breeds of animals, raised ethically to the ages he prefers, from nearby farms. For instance, his preference for beef is that from dairy cows that are five to ten years old. The chicken, which happens to be Brahmas, are raised to an age of about eight months, and along with ducks, geese, and quails, they’re raised for the restaurant at a local farm. Game is hunted, wild herbs and berries are foraged, and fish is brought from the closest shore.

It was fascinating to read about dinner service at Faviken and how precisely everything is timed. The dining room seats sixteen, and everyone is seated and served at the same time. The carefully chosen, dried, cut, and precisely cooked meats are placed on warmed plates which are hurried to the dining room. There’s a practiced choreography of cooking, plating, and delivery. In the summer, vegetables are picked in the garden moments before they land on plates. Kale is described as “steamed so briefly that it is dying on the plate.” I’d love to see this kitchen in action, and I’d love to taste the food. The recipes in the book are presented exactly as they are prepared in the restaurant. That means some ingredients and techniques seem very particular like “one lavender petal from last summer” and “vinegar matured in the burned-out trunk of a spruce tree.” But, I took the recipes as inspiration to think seasonally about what’s available here and now. I was intrigued by a dish in the book that included a pork chop and semi-dried pickled root vegetables. I replaced the pork with a simply seared piece of fish, and focused on the pickled vegetables. I stopped by the farmers’ market and found two kinds of carrots, Chioggia beets, red radishes, and daikon radish. I made a brine with apple cider vinegar, sugar, and salt and added fennel seeds, black peppercorns, and dried red chiles. The chopped root vegetables became quick, refrigerator pickles which I chilled for a few days. Then, I followed the instructions for the semi-dried pickled vegetables in the book. The vegetables were sliced and left on a parchment-lined baking sheet to dry for a couple of days. Then, they were sliced into skinny sticks. I also made the herb salt from the book which is one way fresh herbs are preserved for the winter at the restaurant. I gathered oregano and chives from my herb garden, chopped them in a food processor, mixed them with sea salt, and pushed the mix through a sieve. Nilsson explains that as the herb salt slowly dulls over the winter months, he finds the change in flavor interesting. To keep the herb salt bright green, it can be stored in the freezer.

The semi-dried pickled vegetables were chewy and maintained good puckery flavor. They were a great match to a simple piece of fish, and the herb salt added a fresh savoriness. I didn’t attempt to create a full progression of dishes as would be served at the restaurant, but I enjoyed taking bits and pieces from the book for a simple meal. There’s a lot to be inspired by in the book and applied to what’s available wherever you’re cooking.

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Salmon with Cucumber Salad and Soy-Mustard Dressing

This recipe is from the May 2009 issue of Food and Wine. In the magazine, the dish was made with grouper, and that white fish fillet was a nice, bright back drop for the very thinly sliced vegetables that were placed on top of it. The look of the dish and the fresh, light nature of the salad had stuck in my head for two years. I went off to the fish counter planning to bring home a thick, white fillet of something, but then instead, I saw the first wild salmon of the season. The very first salmon of the season is always so good, and it was shiny and dark pink and couldn’t be refused. So, my version has a pink back drop for the salad, but the flavor was everything I’d hoped it would be. Speaking of salmon, I know I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. I learned a trick for quick brining salmon from Ad Hoc at Home. In a cold solution of one part salt to ten parts water, salmon fillets are left to soak for about ten minutes. This brief brine seasons the fish and prevents the soluble protein from coagulating into white gunk when it’s cooked. Given the expense of first of the season wild salmon, I don’t mind taking this extra step to ensure the cooked result will be as good as it can be.

While the fish sat in the cold brine, the sauce was made in the blender. It was a puree of soy sauce, rice vinegar, mirin, sake, whole-grain mustard, some garlic, and grapeseed oil. Half of the cucumbers were peeled and thinly sliced lengthwise on a benriner, and those became a folded base for the dish. The other half of the cucumbers were julienned along with carrot, daikon, and a red chile. Sliced garlic and shallot were fried until browned, removed from the oil, and then that oil was used to cook the fish. To serve, some soy-mustard dressing was spooned onto the plate, the long pieces of cucumber were folded into a stack, the salmon sat on them, and the julienned vegetables were the crown on top with a garnish of fried shallot, garlic, and black and white sesame seeds.

I have to go on a bit more about that brining technique because it really does perfectly season the fish, and the fish does look much better when there’s no white protein oozing from the fillet. The fresh, crunchy vegetables were just the right accompaniment, and the soy-mustard dressing added lively flavor. I know I would like this just as well with a white fish fillet, and the color combination on the plate would be striking, but this was a fabulous use of this season’s first salmon.

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Bibimbap

When it comes to preparing any kind of Asian cuisine, my success rate is about 50%. It’s getting better considering that in the past it was about 10%. Still, I need more practice and probably more books. For months, I had wanted to try making bibimbap. When I saw this New York Times article, I decided the time was now. I followed the recipe linked in the article exactly with only one change. I added some yellow summer squash just because I had it. This was my very first attempt at cooking Korean food, so I followed the instructions carefully and was thrilled with the result. I used zucchini, daikon, carrots, and yellow squash from Hands of the Earth Farm and only needed to purchase a few other ingredients. I didn’t find the Korean chili sauce, gochujang, at my regular grocery store and wondered about using a substitute. A quick online search led me to believe there isn’t a good substitute, so I stopped by our nearby Korean market to get it.

There was a considerable bit of prep work involved. The zucchini, shitake caps, daikon, carrots, and yellow squash were all julienned. Then, the zucchini, squash, and shitakes were each sauteed separately with sesame oil and garlic. Also, bean sprouts and spinach were blanched separately and then tossed with sesame oil and sesame seeds. The daikon was tossed with chili flakes, sesame oil, a pinch of sugar, and salt, and the carrot was left plain and raw. The rice cooked while all of these items were being prepped. I’m sure this process could be vastly simplified, but given my track record I stuck to the recipe. When the rice was cooked, a non-stick skillet was heated with vegetable oil. Half of the rice was flattened into the skillet and pressed into a large pancake. This was left to brown for a few minutes, and then it was turned to brown on the other side. My turning skills were lacking, but it didn’t matter in the end because the crusty rice was broken into pieces and topped with the remaining cooked rice. The prepped vegetables were arranged in wedges on top of the rice, and all was adorned with gochujang. To serve, the skillet’s contents were gently mixed and transferred to plates.

Crispy rice bits, well-seasoned sauteed squash and mushrooms, crunchy carrots, and sesame seeds were just some of the varied textures. And, the garlic and sesame with the chili sauce was a delicious blend of flavors. The gochujang was a little spicy but also somewhat sweet and vinegary, and I see now that it was worth the trip to the Korean market. It really is different from other chili sauces. Bibimbap is often served with a fried egg on top, but we had indulged in a large frittata for brunch earlier in the day so I skipped the egg. It may also be served with beef or chicken, but I stayed with the vegetarian approach of the recipe. I’m kind of proud to have successfully created a bibimbap and I’ll definitely be making it again.

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Pickled Daikon and Watermelon Radishes

I read a fair amount of food writing (slight understatement), and I know I saw something about pickling this or that in Food and Wine at some point. And, there was an article about preserving vegetables in olive oil in La Cucina Italiana which isn’t pickling but had me thinking preservation at any rate. I also have several different cut out pages filed away about quick pickling and the like. All of that got mushed together in my head and when I picked up our CSA vegetables last week, the idea of pickling was on my mind. Well, the kind fellow from Hands of the Earth helped me bag up my portion and made a joke about everyone getting tired of the daikon radishes. I said something about I didn’t mind them, and then he said “you should pickle them.” Yes. I’d been thinking about pickling, and that cemented it.

I referred to a few different sources, which were all about the same, and in the end did this:

2 medium daikon radishes, cleaned and chopped into 1" chunks
6 watermelon radishes, cleaned and cut to similar size as daikon chunks
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
2 sprigs fresh dill
2 c white wine vinegar
2 1/4 c water
3 T kosher salt
1 t black peppercorns
1 T pickling spice (a combination of allspice, coriander, rosemary, dill, chili pepper, cloves, bay leaves, celery seeds)

- combine vinegar, water, salt, and pickling spice in a medium saucepan; bring to a boil
- place daikon, watermelon radishes, onion, and dill in a large, heat-proof mixing bowl; pour boiling vinegar and water mixture over vegetables; let cool and transfer to an airtight container; store in the refrigerator up to three weeks

The radishes are crisp, vinegary, salty, and addictive. They’ll be great offered up with some olives and cornichons or on the side with a salad. Coming to think of it, I have a thing for veggie burgers and eating little briny bites like olives and pickles with them. Pickled radishes and veggie burgers may become a new favorite pairing.

Note: After a few days in the refrigerator, everything in the jar has turned pink due to the watermelon radishes. The initial, multi-colored look was nice, but pink is pretty too, and it tastes just as good.

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Winter Kaleidoscope

I returned home after a great week in Ireland and got to pick up some fresh CSA vegetables the next morning. The carrots, radishes, and daikon were bright and beautiful. It’s the crispness of radishes and the sharp, peppery flavor that I like, and I usually always eat them raw. However, I have been intrigued by a few dishes I’ve seen lately involving cooking radishes. I pulled Patricia Wells’ Vegetable Harvest from the shelf and found a warm salad nicely suited to the season and these fine vegetables I’d just acquired. In the book, Wells tells the story of the first delivery of fresh vegetables she received in Paris, how colorful and fresh they were, and the recipe that was included. That recipe is close to what you see here, but I had to make a couple of changes.

Jerusalem artichokes were to be included, but there were none at the grocery store and therefore none in my version of the dish. I also left out the turnips because I had both red and watermelon radishes. So, my vegetable melange included: carrots, red radishes, watermelon radishes, daikon, parsnips, and garlic. Now, the 16 cloves of garlic suggested in the recipe may sound like a lot, but they become mild and lovely as they cook. All the vegetables are to be very thinly sliced and then cooked over low heat with cumin, espelette, and a little olive oil. My pantry was missing piment d’espelette, I need to order some along with fennel pollen and more Aleppo pepper, so I used a small bit of cayenne instead. Everything cooked together, covered, for 20 minutes. Once on the plate, fragrant walnut oil was dribbled about, and I added some chopped parsley as well. The low heat ensures the vegetables retain some crunch but yield just slightly. I would suggest cooking the parsnips for a few minutes on their own and then adding everything else. Their texture was a little firmer than that of the other items, but it could have just been that the store bought parsnips weren’t as amazingly fresh as the CSA produce.

The dish was nicely spiced by cumin and cayenne, and the walnut oil accented it very well. It’s an uncomplicated preparation, but each element played an important part, so don’t skip the walnut oil or cumin. The colors were thrilling and added to the sense of freshness. This warm but crisp salad with some rosemary roast chicken made a simple and delicious fall meal.

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