Lovage Savage, a Spring Aperitif

lovage savage cocktailSometimes the job of a drink (and the bartender) is not to stand out, but to work like a stagehand arranging scenery while the audience imagines they can’t see you. The lights come up and a drink is in their hand before they know they ordered it. It’s delicious, but subtle enough to recede behind good conversation: a backdrop. It creates anticipation, making the mouth water and setting the scene for an exciting meal to come.

This is that kind of drink. Dolin Blanc, a sweet white Vermouth, forms a light foundation for a cocktail that refreshes without intoxicating. A splash of Bittermen’s Citron Savage gently awakens the tastebuds with a hint of bitter herbs and citrus. Slap a sprig of lovage between your hands to release a fragrance like floral celery. And finish the drink’s perfume with a twist of aromatic citrus--bergamot, sweet lime, or meyer lemon.

Lovage Savage Cocktail Recipe

(savage pronounced with a french accent...or should we call it the Savage Lovage?)

• 2 oz Dolin Blanc
• 1/2 oz Bittermen's Citron Savage
• sprig Lovage
• 1/2 section of peel from aromatic citrus (bergamot, sweet lime, or meyer lemon)

Build the drink in a rocks glass over ice, and stir to chill. Slap the sprig of lovage to release its fragrance, and twist the peel over the glass to mist it with citrus oil.

Quick Sriracha Pickles

I hadn’t thought about what I would do with pounds of cucumbers, but I bought them because they were on sale. The next morning, still bleary-eyed, I improvised these quick pickles while I waited for my coffee-making water to boil. They turned out so delicious that I went back to the market for another sack of cheap cucumbers, and then another.

If I could make these before my first cup of coffee, then the clumsiest novice cook will be equally successful. The sriracha (aka cock sauce) does all the work of seasoning, so you don’t even need to peel garlic! These aren’t the kind of pickles you’d put up for next winter, but I doubt you could resist eating them that long anyway. You might catch me sneaking one straight from the fridge before breakfast.

Quick Sriracha Pickle Recipe

• cucumbers, preferably English, Persian, or Kirby
• vinegar, white or cider
• kosher salt*
• sriracha

*table salt is fine too, but it will make the brine cloudy because it contains anti-caking agents.

Cut the cucumbers into whatever shape appeals to you, I’ve been going for spears. Pack them into a jar, leaving at least half an inch of space at the top. Fill the jar halfway with vinegar, then fill it the rest of the way with cold water, so the liquid covers the pickles but isn’t spilling over the top. Add a heaping spoonful or two of salt, more than you might think. Squeeze in some sriracha: if you like it hot, use a lot. I like just enough to tint the water pink, so they’re flavored but not really spicy. Close the jar and shake it. Put the pickles in the fridge, and wait at least six hours before you eat them.

Flash Stir-fried Pea Greens

For a good stir-fry, you need a very hot wok and very dry vegetables. Heat your wok over a high flame for a few minutes, until you can feel the heat radiating from the sides when you hold your hand above it. While it’s heating, peel a few cloves of garlic, and get your sauce handy: soy or fish.

Turn the heat down to medium. Splash some oil, a tablespoon or two, into the wok. It must be oil with a high burn point like canola or safflower, NOT olive oil.  Throw in the garlic; tumble it around until it turns golden, in a matter of seconds.

Throw in a handful (or three) of clean dry pea greens. Shuffle them about for only as long as it takes for their color to change, to a deeper vibrant green with a gloss of oil. Turn the tendrils out of the wok, sprinkle and toss them with soy or fish sauce (or both), and serve with rice.

Ohanami, a Picnic for cherry blossoms

pink bike at tokyo ohanami picnicIn Japan, the blooming of flowers is cause for national celebration. When the cherry trees bloom, everyone parties. It’s called ohanami, the viewing of honorable flowers. Soccer moms and bike messengers alike pack picnics, spread out blankets and drink under a snowfall of petals. I partied with them all when my trip to Japan coincided with cherry blossom season.

ohanami picnic in Chiba

I picnicked in a playground with suburban moms and and their toddlers (and one teacup puppy) as the first flowers of the year popped open. While the kids played, the moms unpacked bentos of homemade food, carefully separated by plastic wrap within each container. We sipped sweet plum wine poured from tetra packs: it looked and tasted like the Japanese equivalent of white zinfandel. They giggled and questioned me about my American boyfriend--why I was in Japan, and where was he? Sharing food under the cherry blossoms, I felt at ease with them in spite of how little of each other’s language we understood.

ohanami picnic with tokyo bike messengers
At the height of the season, bike messengers invited me to their ohanami under a huge canopy of blossoms in a downtown park. Every way you looked, the ground was covered with picnic blankets and flower petals. The white blossoms and black branches popped against a backdrop of overcast sky. Bike fanatics arrived in waves as they finished a pirate and cherry blossom themed scavenger hunt. They added their tricked-out bikes to the glittering candy colored pile, and sat down to sip bear out of seasonal pink cans. As the day wore on the group got drunker and roudier, and we took turns going to the convenience store to load up on flower-themed junk food.

Everywhere I went in Japan, I found myself drinking and making friends under flowering trees. Taking part in a national flower party was a foreign experience, but cherry blossom picnics conjure nostalgia for my own childhood in the Pacific Northwest. Wild cherry trees in the woods by my house signalled the beginning of spring, and my mom took us every year to eat boiled eggs on a red blanket beneath flowering trees on the University of Washington campus. Now sweet memories of that month in Japan make ohanami picnics doubly special to me. I won’t let a season pass without packing a picnic and viewing some flowers.

flowering wild cherry tree at my childhood home

Here is a recipe for an ohanami snack.

Ohanami Onigiri おはなみのおにぎり

Onigiri are easy to make, and all the ingredients are available in most American supermarkets. Hand formed balls of rice with a savory filling, wrapped in nori seaweed, these are a perfect picnic snack. My favorite filling is ume-boshi, Japanese pickled plums. Canned tuna mixed with mayonnaise is a popular filling, and one that doesn’t require a trip to a specialty grocer.

Onigiri Recipe

sushi rice
salt
filling of your choice
nori*

Cooking good sushi rice in a pan requires patience and precision, a rice cooker makes it easy. In whichever vessel you’ll cook it in, rinse the rice in several changes of cool water, until the water runs clear. Cook the rice. When it is done, spread it on a plate to cool slightly.

Mix a few spoonfuls of salt into a bowl of cool water. It should taste like sea water. Dip your (very clean) hands into the water: to season the rice and keep it from sticking to your hands.

Cradle a small handful of rice in one hand. Make an indentation in the middle. Place a teaspoon or less of your filling in the indentation. Press another small handful of rice on top.

Traditionally, onigiri is shaped into a triangle. Bend your hands into right angles, and press the rice into the angle of your hand. Rotate and squeeze the onigiri to form its corners (nigiri means squeeze).

Wrap a small piece of nori around the onigiri. To preserve its crunch, wait to add the seaweed until you are ready to eat.

*Japanese markets and some grocery stores carry small strips of seasoned nori, perfect for onigiri. If you can’t find those, cut sheets of sushi nori to a manageable size (to make them extra delicious, you can brush them with soy sauce and toast them for a few seconds under a broiler).