Gasping for Greens

It’s a perfect February day in Seattle. The sun is shining. I have all the heaters off and the front door open wide to let in the fresh air. The Olympic Mountains are showing off their best winter coats and the porch is gaudy with primroses. It is a perception altering kind of day. There is light when there has been so much darkness, breezes instead of cold winds, flowers budding and the scent of potential in the air. And with that sunshine comes an almost physical shift in my food cravings. I have no interest in the rich stews, spongy dumplings, salty condiments or fibrous root vegetables I yearned for last week. I am almost desperate for tender greens, shoots and seafood.

 

But winter is a trickster in these parts. Call me a “glass half empty” kind of girl, but I have been fooled too often. As soon as I am convinced the dark days are over, that spring is around the corner it will start to rain. The skies darken and the clouds lower and the optimistic, naïve crocuses are swamped. So today I will drink in the sunshine, collect branches of forsythia and flowering quince to bring indoors. But I will keep my heavy coat and mittens handy. And I will be very particular about my produce choices.

 

Ruby red, hothouse rhubarb, Mexican asparagus and giant artichokes that cost $4 a piece are tempting me at the stores right now. I will reach for them, smell them, even fondle them, but I will not buy. I will not be fooled. These are not real spring vegetables. They are pale, overpriced imitations of our local gems, so I must wait. I will instead fill my cart with Asian pea vines, endive and escarole. I will add scallions to almost everything and smother simple dishes in freshly chopped parsley and breathe in the chlorophyll. I will steam fish, sauté small shrimp and whip up tiny omelets, but I won’t give in to spring until the farmers at my local market have purplish spears of fresh bamboo shoots. I will wait anxiously for the fat, juicy spears of Walla Walla asparagus to be cheap and plentiful. My pies will be filled with greenish, pungent Puyallup valley rhubarb, but not in February. 

 

I will only be able wait because of sunny February days like this one. I am reminded of what is to come.

 

Simple Stir-Fried Pea Vines

 

This is my variation of a very fresh tasting pea vine dish at Shanghai Garden. The sauce is simple but aromatic with just a hint of cornstarch to make it syrupy.  Add a teaspoon of soy or oyster sauce if you like.

 

1 bunch fresh pea vines washed and dried well

½ cup chicken stock

1 teaspoon corn starch

Salt and pepper

splash of Chinese sherry (optional)

a few drops of toasted sesame oil

2 tablespoons peanut oil for frying

1 clove garlic, minced

1 tablespoon chopped shallot

1 teaspoon minced ginger

 

Sort through the pea vines, removing and discarding any tough stems. Ides aIn a small bowl, combine the chicken stock, salt, pepper, sherry and sesame oil. Mix well. Heat a wok over high heat until the sides of the pan are hot to the touch. Swirl in the oil, add the garlic, shallot and ginger and stir-fry until aromatic but not browned, about 15 seconds.  Add the pea vines and stir-fry until they are wilted and vivid green, about 3 minutes. Stir the chicken stock mixture and add to the pan. Simmer until the sauce lightly thickens and clears. Transfer to a bowl and serve immediately.