The Space Between

Although I hate waiting for spring and summer to arrive, there is a nice overlap between early spring and late winter when I get the chance mix and match seasonal ingredients. While the farmer's market hasn't quite caught up to the calendar, a lot of my local organic markets have, and asparagus, strawberries and artichokes abound. Of course, winter citrus has not completely disappeared, as evidenced by several blood oranges that remained in my fridge as I came bounding home with a tote bag full of fresh asparagus. I've made it every which way, but nothing ever seems to top simply roasting it in the oven with olive oil and a little salt and pepper. I've thought of a dozen other preparations, but nothing ever seems as satisfying or as easy as oven roasting. I never seem to tire of it either, but I'm constantly getting asked for more interesting ways to serve it (tofu is actually what I get asked about most often).

My favorite piece of advice is to let people know that you can always embellish asparagus (or anything, for that matter) after you've roasted it. You could leave the seasoning off and allow it to chill before tossing with dressing, prepare a separate dipping sauce, or cut it up and serve it over a simple pasta dish. It's not a difficult vegetable to pair and goes with almost anything, including aioli, eggs and citrus. Since I had all those oranges wasting away in the fridge I figured why not toss my roasted asparagus with orange segments and a lovely citrus dressing? That way I could make it a warm salad that still had a great deal of bright, refreshing flavor from the oranges, and I'd be able to use the orange juice in the vinaigrette. It was an easy dish to prepare that was done in no time, and really ushered in spring.

First, I tossed the asparagus spears in extra virgin olive oil, then seasoned them with just kosher salt and freshly ground pepper. I popped them in the oven to cook for about 15 minutes (mine were nice and fat; thinner spears can be done in 10 minutes or less), just about the time it took to peel and supreme the oranges. The important thing is to keep the remainder of the oranges after you've cut out the segments. You can squeeze plenty of juice out of those little suckers, and believe me, it'll add great flavor and depth to your vinaigrette, which would work on a number of different salads, including just a plain leaf salad (no need to go juicing a whole new orange). The vinaigrette was simple with a nice bit of sweet and sour action, mixing the orange and blood orange juice with honey, Dijon mustard and a little red wine vinegar for some extra tang. It came out a lovely pink hue that paired really well with the green asparagus and brightly colored orange segments. I topped the salad off with some thin curls of parmesan cheese for a bit of delicious salty goodness and called it a day. Here are my final recipes, which can definitely be broken up and used separately.

Warm Asparagus and Citrus Salad

Asparagus:
1 bunch fresh asparagus spears, ends trimmed
2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper
small block parmesan cheese (optional)

Vinaigrette:
1 blood orange, peeled and segmented (leftovers reserved)
1 orange, peeled and segmented, (leftovers reserved)
3-4 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tsp honey
3/4 tsp Dijon mustard
zest of half a lemon
extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper

1. Preheat oven to 350 F degrees. Drizzle asparagus with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place asparagus on a foil lined baking sheet (for easy clean-up), and cook in the oven for 10-15 minutes or until bright green and tender-crisp.

2. Meanwhile, combine vinegar, honey, lemon zest and mustard in a bowl and slowly whisk in olive oil until desired consistency is reached. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

3. Plate asparagus and drizzle liberally with a few tablespoons of the vinaigrette. Top with orange and blood orange segments and drizzle with remaining vinaigrette, to taste. Garnish with thin ribbons of parmesan cheese. Enjoy!

-Laura

Orange You Glad?

All winter I've been hoping to find some semblance of citrus at the farmer's market in a futile attempt to continue using only local, fresh produce. Fearing I'd go all winter without so much as a bite of citrus other than lemon and lime, I finally caved and purchased a few of the lovely blood oranges at my neighborhood market. The final straw that broke the locavore's back was a recent story in the New York Times dining section. Mark Bittman ("The Minimalist"), fresh from his tour of Spain with Mario Batali, created a salad based on a dish he had during his tenure touring the country. It was a fresh orange salad topped with an olive puree. It first caught my attention because of the colorful contrast between the pure black puree and the vibrant orange slices. But after some thought, I realized it was a lot like a dish from my childhood.

From time to time my mother would make a dessert for my dad that his mother made for him. It was basically a salad of orange segments tossed with olive oil, salt, sugar, and a drop of vinegar. Although I enjoyed it, as a youngster I found it confusing and a bit odd. As it turns out, it's quite the common dish in Spain, better known as naranjas compuestas (or "composed oranges"). It's not surprising, seeing as Seville oranges are abundant around the country, that they would appear everywhere from starter salads to dessert. As an adult I've come to value oranges as an ingredient that provides both tart and sweet flavors to a dish, and even more recently I've come to admire it as an excellent vessel for both salty and sweet flavors. And so, over the years I've added oranges (and grapefruits) to salads, paired them with bacon, doused fish in their juices, but somehow along the way, managed to forget that they could carry a dish all on their own.

And so, using Mark Bittman's dish as inspiration, I made my way to the supermarket and purchased some oranges, along with the lovely, garnett colored blood oranges I'd been seeking all winter. I find their flavor slightly richer, and a bit more full than your average orange, not to mention that adding them would create such a lovely visual effect. Instead of simply peeling and thinly slicing the oranges, I decided to eliminate all forms of pith (and bitterness) by peeling and then segmenting them. That way I also got to squeeze the juice from the remaining body of the orange and save it for a blood orange vinaigrette later in the week. The other tweak I made to the recipe was in the olive puree. I like black olives but I don't like eating tons of them, so I actually used a mix of black olives, kalamata, and three or four large green olives to give the mix a few greens flecks. There was some herbage in the mix too, including fresh thyme (from my thyme plant!) and a final sprinkle of fennel seed over the whole dish. It was all delicious with the exception of the fennel seed, which could at times be overwhelming (the next time I'll definitely grind it instead, or use some fennel pollen if I win the lottery). Here's my version of the recipe:

Blood Orange Salad With Olive Puree

4 oranges (2 blood oranges, 2 Seville or naval), peeled and segmented
1/2 cup pitted olives (any combination of black, kalamata or green that you like)
extra virgin olive oil
red wine vinegar
1/4 tsp fresh thyme
pinch of fennel seed
pinch of salt
pinch of sugar

Puree olives in a food processor with most of the thyme (reserving a few for garnish) and just enough of the olive oil to make a coarse puree. Set aside. Toss orange segments with a light drizzle of olive oil and vinegar and season with salt and sugar. Plate and top with dollops of olive puree and fennel seed. Enjoy!

-Laura