Last week’s New York Times piece on watercress couldn’t have come at a better time. I had a big bundle of upland cress from my harvest at Bee Heaven Farm. Unlike watercress that grows in—you guessed it—water, upland cress grows in the soil. Fresh, it has a peppery bite that mellows quite a bit when cooked.

I chose to dump my cress into a big pot of barlotto, or barley risotto. The flavorful greens, blanched and pureed into submission, clung to firm-tender grains of barley whose starches blended into a creamy sauce with the usual risotto suspects—garlic, stock, parmesan and butter. This was more delicious than any risotto I’ve made in some time. The greens offered lots of character, the grains a sturdy, chewy mouthful.

I made a few amendments to the original Aquavit recipe. I blanched the cress in stock not water (why let that flavor go to waste?) and used a food processor to pulverize the watercress. A blender wouldn’t cut it. I also used all cress and no spinach, but I imagine any combination of flavor-packed greens would do the trick.

Barley Risotto with Watercress
8 cups vegetable or chicken stock
Kosher salt
10 ounces watercress, tough stems removed
6 sprigs parsley, stems and all
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 leek, thinly sliced
1 clove garlic, minced
3 cups pearl barley
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 grated Parmesan
Black pepper

Instructions
Bring vegetable stock to a boil. If the stock is homemade and low-sodium, season with 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt. Reserving a few sprigs watercress for garnish, blanch the greens and parsley in the stock for 30 seconds. Remove the watercress and parsley with a slotted spoon, and transfer them to an ice water bath. Reduce heat on the stock pot, and bring it to a gentle simmer.

Squeeze excess moisture from the watercress, and transfer it to a food processor. Add 1/2 cup of stock, and puree. Set aside.

Heat 2 tablespoons of butter in a large, wide pot over medium heat. Add the leek and cook until it begins to soften—about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Pour in the barley, and cook 3 minutes, stirring. Pour in wine, and stir until all of the liquid has been absorbed into the barley. Add 2/3 cup stock, and stir until all of the liquid has been soaked up by the barley. Repeat with remaining stock—this will take about 30 minutes. The barley should be firm but yielding, and the grains and stock should take on the creamy consistency of risotto.

Stir in 3 tablespoons of butter, Parmesan, and watercress puree. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Garnish with sprigs of watercress, and serve immediately.

Serves 4 main courses and 6 sides

Greens. Greens. Greens. My mother would be so proud to see her once-upon-a-time, lettuce-spurning daughter eat so many greens. And to eat all our greens before the next CSA box arrives, we have to turn to drastic measures of consumption. Forget side salads. Bring on the food processor and pesto.

Pesto is my favorite  CSA-survival technique (life is  hard, I know). Not only does it eat an entire bunch of greens or herbs in one fell swoop, but a pesto pasta meal only takes 20 minutes from start to plate.

This week’s mizuna pesto was a particular success. Less pungent than a basil or parsley pesto, the mizuna puree was sweet and fresh. I used nearly a full bunch, which packed our food processor to the brim and yielded enough pesto to coat a pound of spaghettini—more than enough for dinner and lunch leftovers. Although second-day pesto pasta tends to be dry, moisture from the mizuna stems kept the pasta from drying out. William ate not one but two portions of the pasta the next day.

This recipe is approximate, but, no doubt, yours will be delicious if you can find greens as lovely as mine (thanks Bee Heaven).

Mizuna Pesto
Combine a seven-cup food processorful of mizuna greens (stems and all), 1 cup walnuts, 1/3 cup grated Parmesan, 3 to 4 cloves garlic, 1/2 cup+ extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper. Chop, chop, chop in the food processor until it’s smooth. Taste and adjust salt and olive oil as needed. Toss with a pound of cooked pasta, and eat.

FYI: Our camera is on the fritz. We may have to replace it, in which case we’ll be photoless for another week.

I made this New York Times Provençal Greens Soup last year with swiss chard and spinach from the farmers’ market. Last week, with my abundance of greens from the CSA, I made another batch with callaloo (a Caribbean spinach substitute also known as amaranth and pigweed) and mizuna (a Japanese, arugula-like green). 

The slightly bitter greens melded well into this humble dish, traditionally made with foraged greens, such as dandelion. The base of the soup is nothing more than l’eau de Miami with softened leeks and garlic. After the greens cook, two beaten eggs are tempered and whirled into the pot, creating a pale, murky liquid. A topping of fresh garlic croutons and Parmesan add a final flourish (and necessary caloric boost).

Temperatures are still in the 80s down here in South Florida, but I’m forging forward will fall-inspired menus. Last Friday I made Pumpkin Sage Risotto with a little gem of a pumpkin I picked up from a Jacksonville farmers’ market. For the most part, I followed my tried and true risotto recipe—just adding in roasted pumpkin and fresh sage in the last stage of cooking. 

You could, of course, substitute canned pumpkin in a pinch. But you wouldn’t get this beautiful bright orange color (canned pumpkin tends to be darker) nor the deep, gourdy flavor. Roasted butternut or acorn squash would be a better, most likely sweeter, alternative. 

This recipe yielded plenty of risotto for four main courses, plus two fat risotto cakes that William and I ate with eggs for Saturday breakfast. 

Pumpkin Sage Risotto
1/2 of a 3- to 4-pound pumpkin, roasted
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 cups carnaroli or arborio rice
6 cups vegetable or chicken stock
1/3 cup dry white wine
2 tablespoons thinly sliced fresh sage 
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup grated Parmesan 
1 teaspoon (or more) coarse Kosher salt
Pepper to taste 

Instructions
Roast pumpkin (here are great step-by-step instructions), chopping half of the pumpkin into 1/2-inch cubes and reserving the second half for another use. 

Bring stock and wine to a near boil, and turn heat to low. 

Heat olive oil in a wide, 4- to 6-quart pot over medium heat. Add onion, and cook 8 minutes, until soft. Add garlic, and cook 2 minutes more. Add rice to the pot and toast for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring. Now, add 1/2 cup stock mixture at a time, pouring in the next 1/2 cup only after all of liquid has been absorbed by the rice. You should stir the rice constantly. Depending on how salty your stock is, I usually add 1 teaspoon kosher salt once 2 cups of stock have been added, so the rice has plenty of time to absorb the flavor. 

Once all of the liquid has been added, the grains should be al dente and the dish creamy (don’t let all of the liquid from you last pour get absorbed). Stir in pumpkin and sage, and cook until it’s heated through. Add parmesan, butter, and salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately. 

Serves 5 (as a main course) or 7 (side-dish servings)

No matter how many times I prepare soufflé, my nerves get the best of me. My heart races. I fear failure. 

Yet all of my soufflés puff and rise into glorious, eggy perfection (close enough for me, at least) thanks to Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” recipe, which I wouldn’t dare replicate here.

If you can’t tell, my photography was rushed the night I made this. I refused to give you all a breathtaking shot of my soufflé and have it fall before it made it to my plate and mouth. 

William and I needed little else to complete this meal—just a handful of sauteed spinach and a glass of white wine. What a fussy, stressful, simple (and therefore French) meal. 

My coworker Karla came into work last week excited about a butternut squash soup she had concocted from a little bit of this and that. The spice combination she chose—aji amarillo paste (she’s Peruvian), smoked paprika and saffron—already inhabited my pantry and wouldn’t escape my brain until I gave it a try.

Some butternut squash soups lean toward sweet. Others rely on cream for richness. This one has smokey, spicy undertones that know their place and let the starlet squash stand out. The Parmesan and splash of milk provide ample fatty pleasure. 

Karla’s Butternut Squash Soup
1 medium butternut squash
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup diced onion
2 teaspoons aji amarillo paste
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
Generous pinch saffron
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1/2 cup whole milk
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/3 cup grated Parmesan, plus 8 Parmesan curls

Instructions
Preheat oven to 375°. Trim ends off squash and split lengthwise.  Remove seeds and stringy pulp with a spoon. Coat squash with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and place on a baking sheet, flesh side down. Bake squash for 40 to 45 minutes, until tender. Remove squash from oven, and cool slightly. Peel squash, and cut into large cubes. 

Heat remaining olive oil and butter in a medium pot. Add onion, aji amarillo paste, smoked paprika, and saffron to the pot. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until onion is soft and translucent. Add garlic, and cook until fragrant—about 1 minute. Transfer squash, stock, milk, and salt to the pot. Bring soup to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 10 minutes. 

Remove soup from the burner, and puree with an immersion blender (or cool soup slightly, and puree in a blender). Return to heat and stir in grated Parmesan. Taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary. Ladle soup  into bowls and top with a sprinkle of smoked paprika and a few parmesan curls. 

Serves 4 to 5

My inspiration for this meal, again, came from our farm stand stop on the way home from Georgia. I picked up a basket of yellow crookneck squash (the kind most people in the South have to give away) and planned a quick vegetarian supper. I based my recipe on this orzo from epicurious.com but substituted ricotta (which I had on hand) for the cream.

This recipe is a good foundation for (almost) any surplus of seasonal vegetables—leeks, spinach, winter squash, broccoli, tomato, and peas would all work well. And it took so little brain power and time to execute, I’m sure I’ll return to some variation soon. 

Creamy Orzo with Yellow Squash and Mushrooms
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup diced onion
1 1/2 pounds yellow crookneck squash, split lengthwise and chopped
1/2 pound small cremini mushrooms, quartered 
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups orzo pasta
1/2 cup ricotta cheese
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
1/4 chopped chopped fresh parsley 
1/3 cup toasted pine nuts
Salt and pepper  

Instructions
Heat butter and olive oil on medium-high heat in a large frying pan. Add onion and sweat, 1 to 2 minutes. Add squash, cooking for 5 minutes. Next, stir in mushroom quarters and garlic, and cook about 5 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper. 

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salty water to a boil. Pour in orzo, and cook according to package instructions. Drain orzo, reserving 1/3 cup pasta cooking water.

Combine orzo with vegetables, ricotta, Parmesan, parsley, and pine nuts. If the mixture is dry, pour in pasta water and combine. Season with additional salt and pepper, if necessary, and serve.

Serves 4 (main course) and 6 to 8 (for a side dish)

Zucchini usually serves as filler in my recipes. I often fail to celebrate its mild flavor. But this weekend, a first course at Convivio in New York reminded me how good zucchini can be. The course: stracciatella with creamy cheese curds and julienned zucchini. The flavors spoke volumes in a sumptuous whisper. 

I decided to whip up a simple zucchini-based dinner of my own on Tuesday. And coming off of a week’s vacation with bags to unpack, a messy house, etc., speed was of the utmost importance. 

I settled on pre-packaged gnocchi along with ingredients I always have on hand—butter, pecans and red pepper flakes. The results couldn’t have been more satisfying. Lots of brown butter provided all the richness and sauciness a gnocchi could want, crunchy pecans offered up texture and sweetness and the zucchini worked its quiet magic. 

Brown Butter Gnocchi with Zucchini and Pecans
4 to 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 (heaping) cup chopped pecans
1 pound zucchini, cut into 2-inch hunks and julienned 
1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes
Kosher salt and pepper to taste
16 ounces packaged potato gnocchi
1/3 cup grated Parmesan 

Instructions
Put a large pot of salted water on to boil. Meanwhile, melt butter in a large frying pan over medium heat. Just as it begins to turn golden, add pecans. Cook pecans until flesh is light golden and butter is browned, 3 to 4 minutes. Add zucchini and red pepper flakes, and cook for 3 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. 

As zucchini cooks, add gnocchi to water, and cook according to package directions. Drain gnocchi, and add them to frying pan, tossing with butter, zucchini, and pecans. 

Top gnocchi with parmesan cheese and serve.

Serves 3 main course portions

This served as my send-off meal for William, who is spending his summer in New York for a law internship—insert pitiful Caroline face here.

With asparagus in season and a jar of truffles begging to be opened, I assembled this simple yet luxurious vegetarian dinner. 

First, I put on a pot of creamy polenta, which is nothing but 1 cup water and 1 cup milk (brought to a boil) with 1/2 cup corn meal, a few tablespoons butter, 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, and salt and pepper to taste. Be sure to stir the polenta frequently to keep  it from sticking to the bottom of the pan. 

Next, I blanched asparagus spears and shocked them with ice water to stop the cooking.

I melted a few tablespoons of butter in a small saute pan and added two thinly sliced truffles and a pinch of salt. I kept the truffle butter on low heat and re-warmed the asparagus in the fungusy goodness.

Meanwhile, I poached three eggs in a large pot of salted water with a few tablespoons of vinegar added in. One egg turned out beautifully, the other two a bit deformed. I’ll have to work on my technique.

Two nights later William and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary  with a five-course dinner at Chanterelle in New York, where we enjoyed a similar (but superior) dish. Chanterelle’s rendition consisted of grilled asparagus atop a truffle vinaigrette with a poached egg and shaved Parmesan. It was paired with a spright, minerally Chablis.

The flavors were all there. And they reminded of us of our Provence honeymoon with its asparagus-spiked dinners and picnics. One year behind us and one more season of asparagus love.