Sasa Recipe

I am usually not an impulsive shopper. In fact, Im quite the opposite. I deliberate each purchase in painful detail before I part with my hard-earned money, whether its a piece of furniture or a sandwich. To give an idea, Ive been looking for a new dresser for months -- months! -- while an off-the-tracks shelf from my busted current model is sitting on the floor, displaying my ratty old t-shirts to everyone who needs to walk past to use the bathroom. But there is one purchase that I make without hardly any painful mulling at all: produce. And specifically, seasonal produce.

Here in Portland, we have a small chain of local grocery stores with insanely good produce distributors. Its like having a farmers market just a few short blocks from my house. They routinely sample their staggeringly delicious fruits and vegetables, and chances are good that once I taste something, I cant resist (although I still held back from the sticker-shockingly $2.99/lb Golden Nugget tangerines a few weeks ago, despite them being the sweetest thing I ever tasted). Their other secret weapon against my miserly indecision is a simple plastic sign with four words: Peak of the Season.

This little sign will get me to buy anything. Anything. Sure, I may not have come to the store for (insert seasonal produce of choice here), but its the Peak of the Season! Time is fleeting! Life is fleeting! Gather ye Golden Nugget tangerines while ye may! And dont forget the asparagus!

Asparagus is the one vegetable that might as well have "Peak of the Season" tattooed on its butt. As soon as you seem them in the store (and Im talking about the real local deals, not the shipped-from-another-hemisphere knock-offs), the stopwatch starts ticking. Youve only got a few weeks to wolf down as many as you can before theyre gone, not to return until the calendar has a whole new year on it. Luckily this is not hard.

Asparagus are lovely, lovely, lovely. I eat heaps of them during their all-too-brief appearance. I roast or steam them, eating them plain or with a simple topping of vinaigrette with lemon and sieved egg. I pickle them to eat all year, or mix them with some angel hair pasta, lemon, and goat cheese (and, if Ive got it, precious drizzle of truffle oil). For a while, one of my favorites was this pizza, topped with goat cheese and briny anchovies, and brightened up with a sprinkling of lemon zest. But fickle me, I have a new favorite asparagus pizza. And oh, is it wonderful.

I found this combination on the amazing craftacular blog Posie Gets Cozy. Leeks are sauteed up with butter, and mixed into creamy mascarpone. After you spread your pizza dough with this rich and savory spread, you top it with shrimp and a pile of thin spring asparagus. Im someone who tends to insert a tangy edge into every meal, and was tempted to replace the mascarpone with cultured creme fraiche, or add a grating of citrus zest. But Im glad I stuck to the original vision, because its great. Im including a recipe for two pizzas, because trust me, you want to make at least that many. After all, it is the peak of the season.


Asparagus and Shrimp Pizza with Leek and Mascarpone

adapted from Posie Gets Cozy
yields 2 pies

This recipe is simple, but a few little tweaks (which I learned between making the first and second pizzas) keep the shrimp from drying out: a quick brine in salt water, and placing them on the pizza under the asparagus.

2 balls of pizza dough, ~10 ounces each
1/2 lb shrimp, peeled (if theyre very large, slice them in half lengthwise)
1 Tbsp butter
2 leeks, washed and sliced thinly
1 small tub (8 ounces) mascarpone
~3/4 lb thin asparagus, either left whole (dramatic!) or sliced into short lengths (easier to manage!), tossed with a bit of olive oil and a pinch of salt -- if you dont have thin ones, simple thinly-slice larger stalks

Preheat your oven, with a pizza stone if you have, to 500 degrees for an hour. If your pizza dough has been refrigerated, let it sit, covered, at room temperature for about the same amount of time.

In a small bowl, place a cup of water, a tablespoon or so of salt, and a splash of oil. Add the shrimp, and place back in the refrigerator while youre preparing the rest of the pizza.

Heat a saucepan over a medium flame. Melt the butter, and add the leeks. Sprinkle with a bit of salt. Saute, stirring occasionally, until the leeks are totally softened but not colored. Turn off the flame, and add the mascarpone to the warm pan of leeks, stirring as it melts. Taste and add more salt if needed.

Now assemble your first pizza: Place one ball of the pizza dough on a lightly-floured counter top, and press outward into a thick disk (leaving a 1" unpressed area along the edge as the crust). Pick up the disk and let it drape over the backs of your hands, letting gravity help you stretch it into a 12-14" circle. If the dough resists, let it relax for a few minutes, then try again. Place the stretched dough on a peel (or overturned cookie sheet or cutting board) thats lightly dusted with semolina or other type of flour.

Gently spread 1/2 of the leek/mascarpone mixture over the dough, leaving a 1" rim around the edge. Drain the brined shrimp, and scatter half of them over the pizza, then top with half of the asparagus. Slide the pizza onto the preheated stone in your oven, reduce the heat to 450, and bake ~7-10 minutes, until the crust browns and the shrimp and asparagus are cooked. Remove the pizza from the oven, let cool for a moment, and slice and serve. Repeat for your second pizza.

Im usually a big fan of the home-packed sack lunch. The combination of short work breaks and abundant fast food means buying lunch usually isnt worth the bother. Id choose a home-made soup and salad, or even a humble sandwich, over most take-out options any day. But. But. Not in New York.

This past winter I worked in SoHo, the home of lunch options both overpriced and fabulous. As I responsibly toted my lunch, in keeping with my intern non-salary, I looked longingly at the daily take-out deliveries. The Asian noodle soups, the Indian thalis, the too-pretty-to-eat sushi. But best of all were the simple pizzas from Grandaisy Bakery.

When you hear the word pizza, it immediately conjures up images of cheesy slices. And in New York, cheesy slices are not bad at all. But Grandaisy makes pizza bianca. This Roman specialty is more of a flatbread than an airy-crusted pizza. The toppings are pretty simple; either a single highlighted vegetable, or just a sprinkling of salt and herbs. The bakery featured a few variations, but the most popular was cauliflower.

I know this seems strange. Cauliflower pizza? But trust me, its delicious. Roasted cauliflower harnesses all of the sweet beauty of caramelization. Reminiscent of french fries, if you can believe it, but lighter and more delicious. Although Grandaisy topped theirs with a bit of cheese, I omitted that, and added the traditional pizza bianca topping of olive oil, coarse salt and fresh rosemary. Cut into strips, it makes a wonderful appetizer, or accompaniment to a salad. You can also make it ahead of time, and then just refresh it in a hot oven when your guests arrive. We brought it to a salad-based vegan dinner party, and blew their vegan socks off.

Pizza Cavolfiore
roasted cauliflower inspired by Jim Dixon, dough adapted from Jim Lahey via Smitten Kitchen, and the whole combination inspired by Grandaisy Bakery. Phew!

makes 2 pizzas

This dough is a lot drier than most pizza doughs, more like a traditional loaf bread dough than a soupy pizza dough. Dont worry, it turns out perfectly.

Dough:
1 cup cool water
1 tsp instant yeast (or 1 1/4 tsp active dry yeast)
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 tsp sugar
3 cups all purpose flour (you can substitute whole wheat flour -- add an additional 2 Tbsp water for each cup you swap)

Cauliflower:
1 large head cauliflower
~2 Tbsp olive oil

Topping:
leaves from 2 large or 4 small branches rosemary, coarsely chopped
olive oil
coarse salt

Pour water into the bowl of an electric mixer, sprinkle in yeast and let it soften for a few minutes. Add remaining ingredients, and mix on low with a dough hook to combine, and then increase the speed to medium-high. Continue to knead at that speed for about 10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic, and pulls away from the sides of the bowl.

Place dough in an oiled bowl, and flip over to oil the top. Cover with a dish towel or plastic bag, and allow to rise at room temperature until doubled, about 2-4 hours. Split the dough in half, and form each piece into a log. Let rest on a floured surface, covered, until doubled again, another hour.

While the dough is rising, prepare the cauliflower: preheat the oven (along with your pizza stone, if you have one) to 400. Wash the cauliflower, and remove the core. Slice the head into 1/4" slices (a large portion will crumble to bits, which is fine). Toss in a bowl with the olive oil, until its all covered with a thin layer, using more or less oil as needed. Place on a single layer on a baking sheet or two, and bake until it begins to brown a bit, turning once. This should take about 15 minutes.

Assemble the pizza: Increase the oven heat to 500. Stretch one of the dough logs out into a circle the size of your pizza stone (or cookie sheet, if you dont have a stone), about 1/4" thick. Drape the dough onto your preheated stone or sheet. Sprinkle with half of the cauliflower, pressing it down into the dough slightly, and half of the rosemary. Sprinkle with coarse salt, and
drizzle on some olive oil. Bake at 500 until the crust is lightly browned and the cauliflower is deeply browned, about 10-12 minutes. Remove from oven, cut into rectangular wedges, and serve.