
Still Life with Squid, by Lucian Freud (not particularly springlike, but this is the best painting of squid I’ve ever seen).
Recipe below: Braised Calamari with Peas, Potatoes, and Spring Herbs
Calamari with spring peas is a suave combination. Both ingredients, when impeccably fresh, are sweet, and their mingling sweetnesses, one vegetal, one aquatic, blend to produce a unique culinary flavor. Around May I start thinking of the taste. It’s one of the ways spring enters my chilled soul.
I’ve cooked I don’t know how many pasta variations using these two ingredients. I’ve made a Venetian-inspired calamari and pea risotto with saffron and basil. Just thinking about that aroma drives me a little wild. It’s good in a frittata, too. Grilled squid with a side of peas sautéed with spring onions and prosciutto makes an excellent first-of-the-season BBQ festa (add a bowl of strawberries steeped in cool red wine, and it’s complete).
To my mind, squid with peas speaks of Sicily, but the coupling shows up in Genoa, in Venice, in Puglia, just about anyplace in Italy that’s close to water. In the Mezzogiorno, tomato is often included. I’m not a fan of that; I find that it dilutes the gorgeousness of the union (and tomatoes and peas aren’t in season at the same time anyway). What makes more sense to me is gentle spices with spring herbs. I’ve added nutmeg and star anise, but just a hint of each. If you’ve never tasted that spice pairing, try grinding them together and take a good whiff. It’s transporting (to where I’m not quite sure, but somewhere far from where you are). Tarragon and young basil create a complex anisey flavor, so I included them too. You can substitute chervil for either of those fine herbs. Or combine all three. Garnish the dish with clipped chives if you like. In Sicily, mint is traditional. I love that too, but here I wanted to mix it up a bit. I love being generous with spring herbs.
Braised Calamari with Peas, Potatoes, and Spring Herbs
(Serves 4)
Extra-virgin olive oil
¼ cup well-chopped pancetta
2½ pounds medium-size squid, cleaned and cut into rings, the tentacles left whole (or halved if really large)
A big pinch of sugar
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon ground star anise
1 large shallot, cut into small dice
Salt
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
A big splash of dry vermouth
1 cup light chicken broth
1 fresh bay leaf
3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into small cubes
Black pepper
2 cups fresh spring peas
1 heaping tablespoon unsalted butter
A handful of tarragon sprigs, the leaves lightly chopped, or chervil sprigs left whole
About a dozen young basil leaves, left whole if small, otherwise cut in half
A sprinkling of clipped chives for garnish (optional)
In a large casserole fitted with a lid, heat about a tablespoon of olive oil over medium heat. Add the pancetta, and cook it until just starting to crisp. Add the squid, the sugar, the nutmeg and star anise, and the shallot, and sauté a minute or so to coat the squid with oil. Season with a little salt, and add the garlic, letting it soften for about half a minute. Add the vermouth, and let it bubble for a few seconds. Add the chicken broth and the bay leaf, and bring it to a boil. Then lower the heat, cover the pot, and simmer gently for about ½ hour.
Add the potatoes and cook for another 5 minutes.
Next add the peas and simmer, uncovered, until the squid is tender and the potatoes and peas are just cooked through, about 8 minutes longer. It should be a bit brothy. If it’s too tight, add a little chicken broth or water.
Season with black pepper and more salt, if needed. Add the butter and herbs, and stir them in. Top with a sprinkling of chopped chives, if you like. Serve hot with slices of bruschetta brushed with olive oil and a little garlic.
I would love this, even though I
Like my calamari fried. I love the
Potatoes in it.
Ddorne
ddorne, This is long cooked calamari, so it’s tender and has a stewed taste. Deeper than flash cooked or fried.
So suave. What an evocative adjective, Erica. Very few cook’s create as perfectly voluptuous ingredient combinations so thoughtfully and uniquely accented, in season, as you. We thank you for gracing our lives, teaching us new flavors. Mille Grazie amica.
Sandra, Thanks so much. I’m really trying to learn how to pass it on with my words. Glad to know it’s coming through. xo