Hello from The Met Gala*
*The Vancouver Public Library
Hello and welcome to A Newsletter! One day I might get a new name for this thing, but for now, consider it hilarious that this is what I named this newsletter in 2020. If you’ve found your way over by some miracle but are not yet subscribed, here, let me help you with that:
Last summer, while on vacation in Maine with my in-laws, we had poor wi-fi and it rained a lot. So a few of us ended up going to the local library a few times to work when we had to. It ended up being…delightful? And a good reminder that I, a person semi-recently diagnosed with ADHD, really benefit from having “a place of business” to get things done—whether I’m on tour or not. Each time I try to write from a hotel room, I end up napping instead. Anyway, public libraries are great, always have visible outlets, are generally quiet, and unlike The Soho House (where I used to be a member), allow you to use your laptop at all hours. Long live libraries.
A week into this Solicited Advice tour and I can honestly say I’ve never done anything like it. These events are lively, they’re fun (and funny), the questions are GREAT and the answers are helpful (I think?). The best part is I don’t have to talk about myself the whole time—I get to talk about you. The guests (Georgia, Carrie, Lindy, Alicia) have all been so smart and funny, and the questions so good and thoughtful, I can’t believe I get to do this as a job (even if temporarily). A reminder these events are NOT recorded, so if you want to experience the thrilling chaos, you must do so in person.
Tonight I’m in San Francisco with Juanita MORE! (sold out!). But a few tickets are still available for Atlanta on Saturday the 12th with hometown gal Monica THEE Padman (!), Philadelphia on Sunday the 13th with our old producer (🥲) and Philly native Jenn Sullivan, and our second BK show on Wednesday the 15th with Joe Castle Baker, whom I’ve had a crush on for forever (if you have tickets for the 14th, my guest is Lindsey Weber of Who? Weekly fame, whom I’ve also had a crush on for forever). I’m also cleaning out the merch drawer at the Brooklyn shows, which weirdly includes one (1) of the shallot pasta sweatshirts. Will it be yours?
At the end of all this, I’m planning on some sort of wrap up to answer your questions of what I wore, what I ate and where I stayed, which means it should hit your inbox around August. Jk.
Anyway, I did find some time to cook this week, which I found equally restorative and exhausting. (To be fair, when you’re traveling this much, everything is exhausting.) It’s springtime in the Pacific Northwest, which means it’s green as hell and has rained incessantly the entire time I was there. I like this part of the country because the evergreens and moody weather reminds me of being 19 and living in Santa Cruz, listening to Rilo Kiley non-stop, feeling some real big feelings.
Saturday, I woke up in Portland and went to the farmers market (in the rain) and was so thrilled by the abundance of spring produce I could barely contain myself. And I didn’t contain myself, really.
I understand that it might be tough for the average person to get excited about spring produce because the farming systems in this country make a lot of it available year-round: Asparagus. Peas. Leeks. But seeing the better, greener, more imperfect versions for these things pop-up at the farmers market is a fantastic thrill. I am very turned on and inspired by limited-edition produce. If now is the time that something is growing, then that’s when I want to cook it. Won’t be around in several weeks? I’ll take many bunches of it, thank you. Seasonality, in addition to being just a nice marker of time, is also a good assignment for when you’re not sure what to cook.
Take, for example, asparagus. Despite its general availability, I like to ignore asparagus most of the year. But from late April to mid-June, I’m positively mad for asparagus, or at least that’s what I’d say if I were British. Come springtime, I’ve always got a bunch of it on my counter, standing in a glass of water like flowers, waiting to be blanched and dipped in chili oil or tossed with roast chicken drippings and roasted for a few minutes till just tender. I slice it into tiny coins and sauté with beans, I grill it and eat it with anchovies and peppers. It’s a brief but powerful love affair, ending mid-summer when I’m happy to pretend I don’t even really like the stuff.
Alliums, too, especially the flowering or limited edition varieties. Spring onions. Onion scapes. Flowering chives. Ramps. Leeks. Baby leeks. Green garlic (my favorite). I slice them, I sauté them, I smash them into butter, I grill them, I roast them alongside chicken. A bunch of scallions from the big box grocer is nothing like the large, hollow-tubed bunches of scallion from a farmers market when alliums are in season. Unfortunately (I’d say), most of these things—green garlic, ramps, etc.—are considered a “specialty item,” making it tough for me to write broadly accessible recipes that include them. But still, every year, I like to try and remind people they are worth seeking out, experimenting with and cooking the way you would a regular leek or scallion, swapping green for regular garlic when you can, etc.
Anyway, I walked around the Portland farmers market (TPFM) in the rain as I listened to TTPD which I really recommend doing and bought a bunch of perfectly imperfect asparagus, some onion scapes which turned out to be less exciting than I had hoped, a few gorgeous sandy leeks, some perfect pea shoots and a beeswax candle shaped like a bundle of asparagus that I left in the rental car (sad).
I didn’t so much have a plan but of course I thought these would all be so nice with some warm, olive oily beans. Spring Beans. And once I said the two words together I became obsessed with the very simple, totally obvious and absolutely delightful concept of…spring beans. No real recipe, just a good time to say yes, I want to buy all of this spring produce with no plan except to simmer it all together with plenty of fat, gorgeous slices of lemon and tender little beans. It’s a sort of freedom to allow yourself to cook without a recipe here (though there is a recipe below), celebrating your enthusiasm for fleeting seasons and appreciating that some things don’t grow year round, so best to cook and eat them while they do.
Good with bread I guess, though I never find myself needing bread with beans. The parmesan should not be optional, but it can be if you really can’t do cheese. Don’t be shy with the herbs, don’t be scared of too much lemon. These spring beans need both. I also admittedly did dollop some anchovy butter into my bowl and wow, did I love that (should you have any leftover from this chicken).
Speaking of anchovy butter chicken, my brother made it the same night and I used some of the drippings to roast asparagus alongside as previously mentioned. I could not recommend this more.
Spring Beans with Lemon
serves 4
I know this is a recipe, but try to not think of it as a recipe. Somewhere between a soup and a side, depending on how brothy you end up going, these are spring beans, beans surrounded by spring. Don't take anything too seriously— the assignment here is to experiment and explore as many of those freaky little flowering and springy oniony items you can find, all bright green and tender, swimming around wonderfully creamy white beans. Using canned artichoke hearts here is cheating a bit, as they are decidedly not seasonal, but artichokes themselves are, so I was in the mood. If you want to buy fresh baby artichokes and clean prepare them for this, please do not let me stop you.
1/4 cup olive oil
1 15-oz can artichoke hearts (not marinated), halved
Kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper
6 garlic cloves or 2 stalks green garlic, thinly sliced
1-2 leeks, thinly sliced or chopped
1 lemon, half thinly sliced (seeds removed) and half saved for juicing later
2 15-ounce cans white beans, drained and rinsed
1-2 teaspoons fish sauce, optional
1 bunch of asparagus, thinly sliced or cut into bite-sized pieces (or a mix)
2 cups English peas (fresh or frozen) or fava beans, outer pods removed
4 cups pea shoots or tendrils or flowering brococli rabe or literally any fun springy green you can find, torn into large bite-sized pieces
4 scallions, 1 bunch chives, 1 bunch ramps (!) or 1 stalk green garlic, thinly sliced or finely chopped (or do all)
Parmesan cheese, for grating or shaving
Herbs (all of them)! For scattering over
1. Heat olive oil in a large pot over medium–high heat. Add artichoke hearts (they may splatter a little, that’s okay) and season with salt and pepper. Cook until they’re starting to fry and brown a bit in the oil, 5–8 minutes. Add the garlic and leeks to the pot, seasoning with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the garlic starts to brown and the leeks are totally tender, 5–8 minutes (at this stage, the artichokes should be very well browned, just where you want them).
2. Add your lemon slices and let them soften among the leeks (no need to brown), a minute or two (fwiw if you’re sensitive to the bitterness in lemon, make sure there are no seeds and your slices are thin).
3. Add white beans and 4–6 cups of water, depending if you are going for side dish brothy bean or bowl of soupy bean. Add fish sauce and season with salt and pepper (if going for full on soup, feel free to add a bit of Better Than Bouillon to the pot as needed). Bring to a simmer, gently cooking until the beans taste less “I came from a can” and more “delicious,” anywhere from 10–15 minutes. Season with salt, pepper and more fish sauce as needed, knowing that a lot of flavor is yet to come from your vegetables, lemon juice and Parmesan.
4. Add asparagus, peas and/or favas, pea shoots/spring greens, and half your scallions/alliums. Bring to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally until the greens are bright green and anything that should be tender, is.
5. To serve, add lemon juice and remaining alliums (you barely want these cooked which is why you add at the end). Season with salt, pepper, more lemon juice or fish sauce as you like. Divide among bowls and top with Parmesan, herbs (!), more black pepper and a nice drizzle of olive oil.
DO AHEAD: this can be made a few days ahead, just know that the green vegetables will likely go from neon to army/olive, and that’s okay.
Thank you to Sezane for sponsoring this week’s newsletter. Excellent striped button-down (not too long, good for tucking) here. Link to bucket bag big enough to carry large leeks here.
All good.
Come to the Philly show! We can ask AR what she would order if she were forced to eat a Wawa Shorti.