I have made paella in the past, but dare I say I have (nearly) perfected my paella prowess. Nearly because I must work on “the crust” and perfected because after a recent dinner with a Spanish friend, who claims all food in America is horrible (no matter the origin or chef), had to concede that my paella was in fact, “just as good, maybe better, than some in Spain.” Because of her limited English skills I will simply understand that in her translation she actually meant “best ever.”

The key to perfection that was missing in my first paella was the paella pan. With a plethora of paella now under my belt, I realize this is key to near perfect paella. It may be difficult to justify purchasing a pan with one purpose, but if your goal is perfect paella, get the pan (a fairly inexpensive one can be purchased through Despana). (In fairness, a delicious rice dish is still possible without it, though it will not be true paella.)

After a good cooking vessel, it’s all about the ingredients. While I don’t think short grain rice is necessary– unless authenticity is your goal, using the proper stock builds flavor to an incredible degree. This, and the willingness to part with far more saffron than your pocketbook deems sane (look at this as a one-time splurge since most of us rarely use saffron).

A fish paella needs a fish stock. If your paella will have meat, a chicken stock will work. To build that perfect stock, I bought a cod fish head for about $2 at the fish monger. After purchase, I questioned my Spanish friend: What kind of fish should stock be made from? “Cod, of course.” Of course.

Pointer: fish stock is easy to make, but it is important to use non-fatty fish. Salmon is bad. Cod is good. One can also use shrimp shells or lobster shells. Another great thing about fish stock is that it takes about 15 minutes to make. Any longer will produce a bitter stock. Easy: Saute rough chopped onion and garlic, add fish head, bay leaf, add water, bring to a boil, reduce heat, simmer for 10 minutes, strain and set aside. In a pinch, bottles of oyster stock are okay, though overly salted, or some fish mongers have pre-made stock.

With the fish stock done, consider the types of fish to use. Again, nothing too fatty or oily as the flavor will overtake the dish. Nothing too flaky, as it will fall apart. With this in mind, you can play with sustainability issues in your neck of the woods. If you cannot afford lobster, monkfish is a good substitute (with okay sustainability). Neither is important in your final dish, but will add a nice meatiness to the final paella. Others to mix and match include shrimp, calamari, clams, mussels and scallops.

Now, nothing left to do but make paella. It is not as time consuming as it seems, nor as overwhelming, and the road to perfection is well worth the effort. D and I make a pan loaded with $30 worth of fish (approximately 1 pound of everything) and it lasts us a solid 5 days (10 meals). Price wise, you can’t beat that.

This recipe is adapted from a recipe found in the Cuisines of Spain cookbook by, Teresa Barrenechea. After the third paella, I stopped opening the book, but credit where credit due, no doubt.

(Perfected) Seafood Paella
Serving Size= 8 persons. Active time= aprx 45 minutes. Inactive time= 12 minutes.
1 dozen littleneck clams
2 tablespoons coarse salt
4 cups fish stock (see recipe above)
3 pinches + saffron
3-4 tablespoons olive oil (the Spanish love their olive oil)
1 Spanish onion, sliced thin
6 large cloves garlic, crushed
1 large red or orange bell pepper, seeded and cut lengthwise into narrow strips
1 pound monkfish, cut into 2 inch pieces
2-1/2 cups Spanish, short grain, rice
3/4 pound calamari, whole or rings
3/4 pound medium or large shrimp
2 pounds mussels, scrubbed and de-bearded
salt to taste
1/4 cup parsley plus more for garnish
juice of 1 lemon, plus more for garnish

Clean clams under cold water. Discard any open clams, or those that do not close when touched. Place clams in a large bowl with the coarse salt and let stand for 30 minutes as you prep remaining ingredients. (Clams will release sand trapped in shells.) Keep stock at a simmer In a small sauce pot, keep stock at a simmer, add saffron and stir to dissolve. Add saffron and decrease the heat retain simmer.

Preheat oven to 500F. Heat olive oil in a large paella pan on medium heat. Add onion, garlic and bell pepper, stirring occasionally, 10 minutes, until everything is soft. Turn heat to high, add monkfish and cook 2 minutes each side, until lightly browned and opaque. Add rice and saute for 5 minutes, stirring. Add 1 cup hot stock, scraping up any brown bits attached to the bottom of pan, and stir until soaked up. Fold in shrimp and calamari, add remaining stock, stir to incorporate, and bring dish a boil. Drain clams. Arrange the clams and mussels over top of dish, without pushing them too far under the liquid. Transfer uncovered pan to oven for 12-15 minutes, until rice has absorbed all liquid and clams and mussels have opened. Remove from oven and discard any clams that do not open. Fold in parsley and sprinkle lemon juice over top. Cover with a towel and let sit for 7 minutes. Serve with more lemon and parsley over top as garnish

I love winter. Silly to say now, as we all, myself included, embrace the spring with an unrelenting hold, despite the mild rainy interruptions. Maybe it is easier to say, as it is on its way out, but I love the crisp smell of decay in the air as winter begins. I love hot chocolate, sledding, snowmen, sweaters, ice formations, and enormous fireplaces to snuggle up next to with a cup of broth. I love the first taste of root vegetables– sweeter on the east coast than the west coast because the bitter cold and vegetable’s death allows the sugars to concentrate more (take that west coast weather!). Perhaps it is because mine and D’s birthdays both fall in the dead of winter, or the stews, roasts and braises that beckon friends over and keep them long into the night because no one dares go outside.

Admittedly, I also love the spring. That first warm rain and pop of bud on the trees, the first inkling of cherry blossoms and that initial push through frost from the ground. It’s the promise of harvest all over again, springing to green.

D and I spent the winter eating from our CSA’s winter share. Pretty much root vegetables for the past 4 months– most not posted. Although I think D is convinced it was less of a winter share of mixed vegetables and more of a beet share. Needless to say we were both overjoyed at the first glimpse of green as we took a walk through the greenmarket a few weeks ago, even if it was just broccoli rabe, asparagus and scallions mixed with some cellar-over carrots and potatoes, it was pure heaven. In the past two weeks I have purchased over six bundles of asparagus, broccoli rabe and scallions and threw in one bunch of spinach I spied last week.

I once heard a chef say something to the effect that Nature got it right: when we eat by seasons we’re sure to get sick of something, but you don’t have to worry– by the time you’re tired of it, the next season comes around. When I tried to explain this to D he seemed less than pleased: “All I’m saying is you better work on your canning and preserving skills.” (Might D be a little bitter the tomatoes I canned over the summer only lasted until January?)

The above salad is the first real green salad of this year. I say real, because while I’m sure we have had a salad in a restaurant over the winter, they were few and far between and hardly compared to the freshness of this baby. You know that’s true from D’s response: “I never thought I would be so happy to eat a salad.” (Remember that one come mid-summer when D refuses to eat another salad.) We added broiled salmon on top and a few boquerones, or white Spanish anchovies and a parsley-sour cream pesto. You can add whatever protein you have, or just eat this as a side.

First Spring Greens Salad
Serving Size= 2. Active time= 15 minutes.
1 pound salmon fillet
6 boquerones (optional)
1 bunch arugula
6 radish
1 spring onion or 2 scallions
1 carrot

Parsley “Pesto”
1 large handful parsley
juice of 1 lemon
1 clove garlic (optional)
2 Tablespoons sour cream
2 Tablespoons olive oil

1) Preheat broiler and sprinkle salmon fillet with salt and pepper. Broil 4-6 minutes, depending on thickness, until slightly blackened for medium-rare.
2) While salmon is broiling, wash and chop the arugula, radish, spring onion and carrot and distribute amongst two bowls.
3) Place parsley, lemon juice, sour cream and olive oil in a blender and puree until thick and evenly chopped.
4) Once salmon is finished, lay over salad, top with boquerones and add a few dollops of the parsley pesto over everything.

Just Braise disappeared for a bit, but I assure you we kept eating. My energy has been focused on a food literacy project in NYC public schools and re-writing dairy pages for a non-profit. Once published, I’ll share my extensive knowledge of the dairy world with everyone. Until then, I have self-dubbed myself the NYC Milkmaid.

I assure you readers have not missed much. In the past few weeks dishes were sometimes brisk, consisting of leftovers, frozen soups and toasted bagels (we all have our days). While delicious, let us just say it was nothing to write home about. Can you blame us? As T.S. Eliot said, April is the cruellest month. What is a foodie to do when those root vegetables no longer look as crisp and inviting as they once did? What happens when dreams of spring greens appear so close yet feel so far?

We turn to the sea.

As I may have overly noted again and again, I live deliciously close to a handful of fish markets. I implore any of you who live remotely near to these dying markets (butchers, fish mongers and assorted now “specialty” markets) to shop these stores. The quality is often far superior than any supermarket and the workers (often the owners or extended family) know what they are selling and take their products seriously. When were these fish caught? Answered. How was this beef raised? Answered. Where was this pasta produced? Answered. It brings us back to the small stores so quickly falling through the cracks that are truly needed to connect us to a sense of community.

When D and I walked by one of these markets and saw the large handwritten sign, “Soft Shell Crabs are IN,” we knew we needed them. I stopped by a few hours later to pick some up and joked with the husband-wife team who own the place about prepping these babies:

Me: “What do you think is the best way to do these up?”
Husband: “Fry them! These babies are fresh! You know how I know? I made them last night, deeeelicious.”
Wife: “You didn’t make anything! You never make anything. You kidding me?”
Husband: “Well I ate them!”
Wife: “Yeah, you sure ate them, it’s about all you know how to do!”
Husband: “I know how to clean ‘em. I clean ‘em real good. I’ll clean them for you honey, you’ll see.”

Okay, so it was less of me joking and more listening in on an awkward domestic dispute about household chores.

But I had my soft shell crabs (with a free lemon I was told I would “definitely need”), I had my recipe, care of my bickering suppliers, and I had some homemade mayonnaise eagerly awaiting the chance to be turned into tartar sauce. (The mayonnaise is another story of love and loathing.)

In fact, the crabs were so fresh-tasting of the ocean, that after D and I finished off one each for dinner and then leftovers for lunch the following day, I bought four more to make crab tacos the next day! When they are back again I promise to pick more up and saute them in butter and lemon. (Soft shell crabs are blue crabs that have grown, shedding their shells. The waters have to be warm enough for them to grow. Soft shell crabs are now available from Florida to North Carolina. By the end of June we will have more local North East crabs. It’s a long and delicious season!)

My favorite application of the soft shell crab was in the above sandwich. I love the way the crab looks like it is ready to walk out and pinch you. As our spring greens have yet to grace our tables, we bulked up these sandwiches with some creamy avocado slices, a great balance to the crispness of the bread and zesty sauce.

You can ask your fish provider to clean the crabs for you. To clean yourself, simply cut off the eyes at front, remove the lungs from the sides, and the little bit of slime out the rear. Go here to see how The Minimalist does it.

Fried Soft Shell Crab Sandwich
Active time= about 15 minutes. Serving Size= 4 people
For the Crabs:
4 soft shell crabs
1 egg
2-3 dashes Tabasco sauce
2 cups whole wheat flour (or mixture flour and cornmeal)
1 teaspoon Old Bay
vegetable oil to fill 1 inch up the side of the pan

1) Begin warming the oil on medium-high heat.
2) Place the egg and Tabasco in a bowl wide enough to fit a crab, scramble until combined. In another bowl, mix the flour and Old Bay until combined.
3) Once the oil is hot enough (test by placing the end of a chopstick in, if it bubbles, it is ready) dredge each crab in the egg, then transfer to the flour and toss until well coated. Transfer the crabs one at a time to the hot pan. Do not crowd the pan. Fry 2-3 minutes each side until lightly browned, set aside on a paper towel to dry and sprinkle with another dash of Old Bay.

For the Tartar Sauce:
1 cup mayonnaise
juice of 1 lemon
2 teaspoons horseradish sauce
2-3 dashes Tabasco sauce
1 tablespoons dill relish (or chopped pickles)

1) Mix all ingredients to combine.

To Assemble the Sandwich:
Toast your preferred bread until golden (I used sourdough). Smear each slice with a hefty dosage of tartar sauce, splay sliced avocado along the sauce and top with a crab and the second slice of bread. For easy handling, cut the sandwich in half.