Arugula, rucola, rocket…by any name, this addictive peppery green has flourished in my front yard garden (our farmette!) this spring.

Two varieties emerged from the melange of the all-encompassing mesclun seed packet: one with smooth leaves and mild sourness, the other rippled, and biting hot. Both have been delicious tossed into salads, folded into omelettes, rolled into sandwich wraps.

And now, cooked into this oh-so-simple pasta dish, inspired by a dinner in Siena, Italy.

A few years ago, while wandering the narrow cobbled alleys of the many Sienese contradas, we were drawn to a small restaurant, Osteria Il Campaccio. Their sign was bannerlike, bold and red, with a stylized dragon head on it, (the symbol of their contrada, or ward, district.)

Through the windows, it appeared refined, yet homey–white stucco walls and vaulted ceilings, white damask draped tables surrounded by wooden chairs, set with pretty glassware, silver, burgundy napkins…all ready and waiting. Pretty splashes of color, too: baskets of bright red geraniums, bowls of lemons, tomatoes, eggplants.

The menu was distinctly Tuscan, with Sienese specialties like that fat tube like spaghetti called pici, served with ragu. Another plus: The owners had a committment to serving seasonal, locally-sourced fare. We noted the hours and made a plan to return.

The meal was exceptional. We enjoyed radiccio baked (al forno!) with gorgonzola and hazelnuts, marinated baby artichokes, tagliatelle with assorted mushrooms, a grilled ox-heart tomato drizzled in basil-infused olive oil.

The surprising stand-out of the dinner was the whole wheat linguine tossed with rocket, shallots, toasted bread bits, and pecorino toscano.

Rustic and robust—and healthy. I liked the balance of hot, almost bitter greens with sweetness of the shallots, the grated pecorino providing salty tang. I also had never eaten toasted bread bits in pasta before, and why not? They add another element of texture and bite to a dish–aside from being another good use of dry nubs of bread.

The recipe I’m sharing with you today is similar, only I’m using my bounty of beautiful spring green onions instead of shallots, and grated pecorino romano cheese–the toscano is not always easy to find.

For the bread bits–use a sturdy baguette, or similar crusty type, and toast them in good olive oil, salt, and black pepper.

The list of ingredients is short and sweet, the process, too! Enjoy the Hot Rocket Linguine as a prelude to an entree—a nice grilled piece of fish perhaps—or make it the focus, served with a refreshing side bowl of cut fruit.

Whole Wheat Linguine with Rocket, Scallions, and Breadcrumbs
3-4 T. Olive Oil
1 bunch fresh Scallions (spring onions) chopped, using green tops
1/2 t. Sea Salt
1/4 t. Red Pepper Flakes
1 big bundle (6oz) Rocket (a.k.a. arugula, roquette, rucola) coarsely chopped
1 cup toasted bread bits, cut or torn into smaller-than-bite size pieces
4 oz. grated Pecorino Romano

1/2 lb. Whole Wheat Linguine

Heat skillet and add olive oil. Stir in scallions, salt, and red pepper flakes. Saute for about 3 minutes, until scallions become soft and translucent.
Add coarsely chopped rocket and remove from heat.

Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil, and cook linguine for 10 minutes—al dente. Drain, and reserve one cup of pasta water. Return pasta to the pot and add the scallion-rocket mixture. Toss well, adding a little pasta water as you stir. The greens should coat the linguine well, continuing to collapse from the residual heat.

Sprinkle in toasted bread bits and grated cheese. Dress with a little more olive oil, if you like. Taste for salt and serve.

Serves 4

Panna cottas in myriad variations have been tested and tasted by cooks across the food blogosphere; when you have something so simple it lends itself beautifully to experimentation. Consider the merits of this eggless custard: It has, in a sense, a neutral base. Its list of ingredients is scant. It’s barely cooked.

How is it so dang good?

In the case here, the dessert is greater than the sum of its parts. Thick, luscious with tang Greek yogurt takes most of the credit, and the cream is no slouch. Sweet, but not too, you won’t reel from sugar shock after a few bites.

I am rather fond of crushed cardamom, and have found that flecks of this complicated spice pair nicely with the yogurt. It adds somewhat floral, somewhat citrusy dimensions, with heat like ginger. It doesn’t take much in my mix–a little dances a long way across your tongue.

When I was called on to make a fancy sort of dinner for a visiting group of Bill’s business managers, this was my choice to complete the meal. It was something that I could prepare quickly in the morning, and pour it into individual serving pieces to chill. In the past, I’ve put the mixture into white ceramic ramekins, but I wanted a more elegant look. (Another beauty of the recipe is that it can be poured into whatever you like!)

A search through my china cabinet turned up these pretty cut glass cordials.

They once belonged to my grandmother on mom’s side, and had been passed on to her. A couple of years ago, mom was paring down her stuff and called, “I never use these and I think you might.”

We don’t drink liqueurs in my household, but I loved their look and their family connection. I felt certain that I’d put them to good use at some point. I stashed the eight crystals in my cabinet, and promptly forgot about them. Two years of waiting patiently on the china cabinet shelf, the cordials finally got to come out and play.

After placing the filled stemware into the fridge to chill, I turned my attention to the topping. I wanted something fruit based. Although I had local strawberries in the house, I was already using them in a salad for the dinner. Then I recalled a gorgeous jar of marinated apricots that I had seen on Chez Danisse’s blog….inspired from a posting by Erin of The Endive Chronicles. Those might be lovely spooned over the dessert.

Her recipe is very simple-dried apricots, sea salt, good olive oil, lemon zest and thyme. The only issue for me is that this recipe takes several days of sitting to soften and manifest flavor. Even though I had all the ingredients, I had only hours.

Nonetheless, it was enough to spark this cooked sauce. While it is indeed a departure from Erin’s–I substituted orange for lemon, added a little sugar and cardamom, remembered the small bag of candied ginger in the pantry—it’s quite delicious in its own right. I so enjoy how all these blogging connections inspire creativity, and look forward to making her recipe soon.

In the meantime, the Greek yogurt panna cottas, bedecked with the jewel-like sauce, made a stunning yet soothing finish to the dinner party.

And, there were a couple of extras, treats to spoon into the following afternoon.

Cardamom Scented Greek Yogurt Panna Cotta
1 package Gelatin
2 T. Water
1 cup Cream
1/2 cup Sugar
1 t. Vanilla
1 t. ground Cardamom (if you have whole pods to grind yourself, so much the better!)
2 cups 2% plain Greek Yogurt (1 17oz. container is fine)

Sprinkle gelatin into a bowl, and stir in the water. The gelatin will soften and clump, but don’t worry, it will smooth out in the brief cooking that’s to follow.

Gently heat the cream in a saucepan. Stir in the sugar, vanilla, cardamom, and finally, the gelatin. Stir steadily with a wooden spoon until sugar and gelatin has completely dissolved throughout the mixture. Do not let this boil.

When all is incorporated, remove from heat. Stir in the Greek yogurt. Taste for spice–add a little more cardamom if that suits you. Its flavors will continue to bloom in the cream.

Pour into your individual serving pieces. Cover and chill for at least 3 hours.
Serves 8

Apricot Sauce with Cardamom and Candied Ginger
1/2 c. Dried Apricots
2 Clementines, or Mandarin Oranges, for juice and zest
3 T. Sugar
1/2 c. Water
a splash of White Wine (opt.)
Cardamom
2 T. Candied Ginger
2 T. Olive Oil

Simmer dried apricots in a saucepan with sugar, water, the juice of the mandarins (or clementines, or an orange) and their zest. I like the zest in thin peels. Add a splash of white wine, if you like. Simmer for 10 minutes or so; the apricots will soften—as well as the zest—and the liquid will begin to thicken. Add cardamom, 1/2 teaspoon perhaps, and bits of candied ginger. Finish with olive oil. Cool.

In the wake of The Flood, damage to area farms has varied widely. Our friends at Turnbull Creek and Drury Family Farms report that they were relatively unscathed; “Can’t complain about a thing,” says John.

Once the turbulent waters of Leiper’s Creek receded, Allie and Matthew of Arugula’s Star were surprised to find more clinging on in the fields than expected, a testament to the strength of sugar snap tendrils. Their chickens were safe “on the bald,” and a higher-ground patch of luscious strawberries remained intact, flourishing, a sweet gift in light of other devastation.

The Hershbergers, an Amish family who practice organic, bio-dynamic farming, lost every possession, a tragic wipe-out of home and furnishings, greenhouse, and horses.

A visit to Wedgewood Urban Gardens found a large pecan tree downed, crushing some newly emerged rows of veggies, along with some general plant thrashing and wash-out. But amid the beaten down and churned up earth, much was thriving.

Look at what I gathered, gorgeous variations of purples and greens : mixed baby lettuces and arugula, icicle and red radishes, sweet scallions, a few stray spears of asparagus from the battered thicket. And from the stands of lush herbs: flowering chives, thyme, featherlike sprigs of tarragon, and clumps of curly parsley.

I carried them out of the garden, bundled in my arms like a wedding bouquet.

The tender lettuces and profusion of herbs brought to mind Green Goddess dressing–a little retro, I know. Not the bottled goop made by Seven Seas, but the real deal, the true Goddess, replete with garden herbs, fresh and slightly pungent, creamy-thick.

You’ll find recipes for this dressing that use sour cream, also anchovies.
I live with a vegetarian, and so must sidestep the little fish. I have also found that the sour cream can muffle the bright herbal flavors.

I like to make a green goddess-like aioli, chockful of chives, tarragon, and parsley. A little acid support comes from lemon and white balsamic vinegar, and thickening power from egg. The olive oil lets the goddess shine.

I like to coarsely chop the herbs together first.

The herbs quickly emulsify into this creamy-green aioli. The asparagus in the skillet below are grilled in a little olive oil and fresh thyme.

And, you’ll find that this aioli is a rather versatile goddess: a smashing dip for sugar snap peas,
a lively spread on a roast chicken sandwich, and divine, as blobbed onto the composed salad here, using all those good elements that I gathered in the wake.

GREEN GODDESS AIOLI
3 sprigs of fresh Tarragon
1 bundle fresh Chives
1 bunch fresh Parsley
2 T. fresh Lemon Juice
1 T. White Balsamic (or white wine) Vinegar
1 T. Lemon Zest
1 t. Salt
1 Egg
1 cup Olive Oil

Strip the leaves off the sprigs of tarragon and pinch off clusters of parsley. Coarsely chop together with the chives. Place all the herbs into a food processor fitted with the swivel blade. Add lemon juice and zest, vinegar, and salt. Pulse together gently for 15 seconds. Add egg. Mix, and drizzle in olive oil while machine is running. The aioli will become a creamy green, almost as thick as mayonnaise. Taste for salt. Refrigerate.

This will keep, covered and refrigerated, for 3-5 days.

Post Script
Many thanks to all who have expressed interest and concern about the plight of many—farmers and urban dwellers alike—who suffered extreme losses. It’s been surreal. It will take a long time (and, a whole lotta cash) for our city to recover from the widespread destruction. It has been gratifying to see all who have been volunteering en masse to clean up, make food, offer shelter.

Life is full of cycles and surprises.

Of late, my family circle has been experiencing a birthday cycle of the zero years, the “round birthdays,” as friend Lee calls them. It began with Madeleine’s 30th last September, followed by
my mom’s 80th in February, and now, gasp, Bill’s 60th.

For a man who 1. needs nothing and 2. is rather chagrined at the sound of …utter it in low, almost inaudible tones…Sixty, this particular birthday presented a bit of a challenge.

How to make something new…different…memorable?
A bonafide surprise party , that hadn’t been done for the man!

We did manage to pull it off, no easy feat. I had Bill convinced that while I had planned to give him a dinner party at our home on his actual birthday–a Monday—too many friends were unable to come that night. Jenn had to study for an exam, for starters. Wendy and Jim had to meet up with the relatives from Tupelo, no getting out of that.

” We’ll do it Friday, instead, when everyone can come. You don’t mind, do you?” I said.

A shake of the head. No.

“Roger invited us to the Indian restaurant,” I continued. “It’ll be fun.”

A smile and a nod.

Everyone was instructed to show up at said Indian restaurant at 6pm, with cars parked out-of-sight and a toast or a roast in hand. We’d arrive at 6:15.

It all worked like a symphony.

In the meantime, I had to furtively make this singular cake that ended up showcasing two of Bill’s faves: strawberry and chocolate.

To be truthful, I had started out to make a fresh strawberry cake, which would have been perfectly delicious in and of itself. But, then I remembered a lone layer of chocolate cake in the freezer—wouldn’t that be scrumptuous sandwiched between two strawberry ones?

Sometimes I surprise myself.

slice of strawberry cake

The strawberry cake is simple to make—and perfect timing:local berries are just now coming in. It is especially nice with cream cheese icing, recipe found here. If you add a chocolate layer, some chocolate ganache icing, and strawberries in syrup spread over the dense cake will push it over the top.

Strawberry Cake
3 c. fresh Strawberries
11/2 c. Sugar
1 c. Butter, melted
1 c. Milk
1 t. Vanilla
2 1/2 cups All Purpose Flour, sifted twice
1 T. Baking Soda
1/2 t. Salt
4 Eggs

2 9″ cake pans

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Pulse strawberries in a food processor fitted with a swivel blade until pureed.
In a mixer, whip together strawberries with sugar, milk, vanilla. Beat in eggs., then flour, baking soda, and salt. Pour in melted butter and beat well. Pour into 2 (” cake pans that have been coated and lined with parchment. Bake for 25 minutes. Remove, cool on racks.

Post Script: What a difference a week can make: Nashville and surrounding counties have all been inundated by drastic rainfall–over 15″ in only two days. We had a flooded basement-about 8″ of water in Bill’s studio, but got it pumped out. Many, many friends have experienced much worse. A flood of historic proportions affecting unlikely, unforeseen places. All kinds of surprises in life—and all best thoughts to those who lost so much.