Erica De Mane

Insects on a Sprig of Rosemary, by Jan van Kessel.

Recipe below: Linguine with Clams, Lemon, and Rosemary

Rosemary is one of the great aromas in my life. But it wasn’t in my young life. My father never planted it, my parents never cooked with it, except on our Easter lamb, and there it was always dried, a dusty remnant of its true self. I’m trying to think when it became important for me. Possibly when I first grew herbs on my University Place roof in the early eighties. No one was allowed to be up there, but the super didn’t give a crap, he even seemed interested, especially by the basil, an herb that as an Eastern European he was unfamiliar with.

The roof was white hot, and my rosemary grew like it was pushing out of cracks in a Southern Mediterranean villa. Around that time I remember often cooking chicken with rosemary, lemon, and garlic. I was proud of its fascinating aroma. All my friends ate it, over and over. And then at some point I got a small in-the-freezer ice cream maker and thought it would be cool to try strawberry and raspberry sorbetto with rosemary added. That was a revelation, sweet and piney. I also remember experimenting with a salsa verde for pork chops by adding rosemary and capers, and thinking I’d created a masterpiece. Then I found a recipe for an olive oil cake with rosemary and orange. That was so delicious I could hardly believe it. My tiny, unventilated apartment was filled with the aroma of sweet resin. Right in the middle of my Mudd Club days, I was playing with a lot of rosemary.

I’m not sure I’ve ever used rosemary with clams before. That’s not traditional or even usual, but I thought the brine-and-pine combo might work. It did. Rosemary is strong and deep, and it takes well to heat, unlike the leafier herbs that can get swallowed up. So, clam juice, white wine, garlic, rosemary, lemon zest . . . I think you’ll like this.

Linguine with Clams, Lemon, and Rosemary

(Serves 3 to 4)

4 to 5 dozen small clams (littlenecks are a good choice)
3/4 cup dry, non-oaky white wine
Sea salt
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 small shallot, chopped
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 large sprigs rosemary, the leaves chopped
The grated zest from 2 large lemons, plus about 1 tablespoon of their juice
Dried peperoncini to taste
½ cup light chicken broth
1 pound linguine
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
A big handful of flat-leaf parsley, the leaves lightly chopped

Clean the clams well in several changes of cool water, and then drain them.

Get out a large pot. Put the clams and the wine in it. Bring it to a boil, turn the heat down a touch, cover the pot, and let the clams heat, stirring them around a few times, until they just start to open. The thing about clams is that they won’t all open at the same time, so once a few of them start opening, uncover the pot and start pulling them out with tongs into a big bowl, one by one. This is important. You don’t want the open ones sitting in the liquid overcooking while you wait for the rest of them to open.

Strain the clam cooking liquid and set it aside.

Set up a big pot of pasta cooking water, and bring it to a boil, adding a good amount of salt.

Get out a large, wide sauté pan, big enough to hold all the clams, and put it over medium heat. Drizzle in about 3 tablespoons of good olive oil. Add the shallot, and let it soften. Add the garlic, the rosemary, the lemon zest, and some peperoncini. Sauté until everything is fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the clam cooking liquid and the chicken broth.

Put the linguine in the water.

Let the clam broth simmer on low heat for about a minute or so to reduce. Then add the clams back to the broth, and turn off the heat, stirring everything around to coat the clams in broth. Add a drizzle of fresh olive oil.

When the linguine is al dente, drain it, and pour it into a big, wide serving bowl. Add the butter and the lemon juice, and toss. Add the clams with all their broth. Scatter on the parsley, and toss again. Taste to see if you need salt. If your clams are very salty you may not. Serve right away.