When you’ve got chile oil, and i’m going to have to figure out what to do, have you scroll down? or move the recipe right here where it will be more usesful, anyhow, when you have that wonderful delicous full of tantalizingly tongue-numbing Szechuan peppercorns, crushed preserved black beans, spices and oils: this chile oil that gives such utterly delicious taste to so many things…..when you’ve got chile oil: you can look around your kitchen or your garden, and think: what am i going to brighten up: a salad? a stir-dry? braised meat or a steamed fish?

Yesterday as I looked at my radishes and carrots, I was thinking: a light little pickle Vietnamese style of always great, but I’ve been doing that alot lately using the traditional daikon. My new radishes were small round red ones. And also: I was tired of shredded, julienning and spiralizing (truth in advertising: i seem to have misplaced my spiralizer, so until i do….), I thought: why not cut the radishes and carrots into coin, and instead of just doing sweet-salt-vinegar, why not throw some multi-faceted chile oil at it and see what happens.

The result: Oh God Good!

I’ve kept the recipe loose, and you’ll have to taste as you go along. The ingredients just need to be treated that way. For one thing: you might like chile oil more (though unlikely) or less (very possible) than I do. Or you might like your pickley vegetable salad sweeter, or less so. you might like to just make a big double or triple batch and keep them for up to two weeks letting them pickle one day at a time.

Radish and Chile Coins in Szechuan Dressing
Serves 2 as part of a starter, or if it is a side pickle-condiment-course, serves at 4-ish
1 medium large carrot, peeled and cut into thin coins
1 or 2 bunches radishes, cut into thin coins
1 clove garlic, chopped
1-2 tablespoons white wine or rice wine vinegar
1-2 tablespoons water
About 1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon or more to taste, salt
About 2 tablespoons chile oil plus a bit of the solids at the bottom of the jar
1/2 teaspoon toasted lightly crushed Szechuan peppercorns, OR 1 teaspoon mixture ordinary peppercorns, sea salt, and Szechuan peppercorns, roasted together, and light crushed.

Mix it all together, Let sit about an hour before you serve. The radishes will turn a bit pink and soften slightly, as well the carrots, as they do in the photo that I snapped, above. But they are so delicious you might have a hard time stopping once you start. Noshing that is. We had a little bit last night with dinner, and then I finished them for breakfast.

I confess: with Matzo brei if you must know.

Tomorrow: we’re making cucumber salad. With the chile oil. I have a feeling I’ll want leftovers of this for breakfast too!

A good rarebit or rabbit, for they both mean the same thing: a mixture of cheese and something else spread on toast, and have nothing whatsoever to do with small fluffy hopping animals. There are all sorts of rarebits you can make: but really, since its a British “dish” (often known as “Welsh Rarebit/Rabbit–the word rarebit self-descriptive, and the word rabbit referring to a poor mans rabbit, ie no rabbit at all, just cheese), you should use British cheese. At this moment I have to mention Welsh cheeses are amazing. Not necessary in THIS dish, but they ARE necessary in your life! So if/when you have a chance, be sure to seek out Welsh cheeses. Especially goats cheese. Okay, back to our regular programming…..

I like a combination of strong, mature Cheddar plus seomthing else that is languishing in my fridge. Here I used Leicestershire or was it Double Gloustershire? You might want to add a bit of Stilton too or even goat. The point is: rich, mild, and delicious with the oniony ramps.

The toast is a crucial decision when it comes to a rarebit: “English” muffin (just plain muffin if you happen to live in England) is good; sour whole grain bread is great too, like a pain levain sort of thing. Here I used a dense, sour Polish rye, hand-sliced relatively thinly, and toasted before meeting the cheese. That way you get a great crunch from crisply toasted rye, as you bite through that layer of melted cheese and the austerity of the rye bread balances beautifu with the rich melty layer. Its almost like a ballet of tastes and textures all in one little open-faced sandwich; or two, if you eat them both.

Usually a rarebit/rabbit is made by melting the cheese/s with a small amount of beer; but i find that wine or even cider is good instead. Or, as in this rarebit/rabbit, no liquid at all, and instead just chop up the cheeses, chop up the ramps, and mix em together with a little mayo, Polish mustard, and garlic. The garlic brings out the allium-ness of the tamps.

I sprinkled a little hot paprika on top before broiling, but i think it was just that I was feeling the need to balance my red and green: If you don’t sprinkle with paprika, add a droplet or two of Tabasco or other pepper sauce.

Ramp Rarebit
Per person if you’re eating two, serves two if you’re more abstemious and not quite so greedy as I was this morning
About 3 ounces in total: Mature Cheddar, Double Gloustershire, Leicstershire, or other cheeses as delicious (ie whatever you have on hand), diced small or coarsely chopped
Big handful ramps, coarsely chopped
1-2 tablespoons mayonaise
2 teaspoons mild French Dijon type mustard or a mildish but full flavoured mustard from Poland
Either 1/2 clove garlic, chopped or several sprinkles dried garlic powder/granules
2 slices relatively thinly sliced dense rye bread or two halves English muffin
In a bowl combine the cheeses with the ramps, mayonasie, mustard, and garlic or garlic powder. Mix well.
Broil the bread of muffin on one side until light brown then turn over and broil/toast the second side.
Remove from the heat and divide up the mixture, heaping half on each slice of toast. Back under the broiler and broil until the cheese melts.
Eat right away.

Crisp Rosemary Olive Oil Matzo

Weirdly, I’m introducing my Pesach rosemary matzo by talking about Christmas. Christmas, you see, was where I fell in love with Carta di Musica, the thin crisp paper-like bread of Sardinia.

It was a number of years ago and I was spending Christmas with my friend, Antonietta. We–hubs and I–were arriving Christmas Eve, leaving the day after Boxing Day. There were no trains these days–Christmas in the UK isn’t just one day, its a string of days with so many businesses and transportations shut down that we were invited to settle in with Antonietta and her family, eat and drink, watch movies and open prezzies. While not EVERTHING closes the way it once did–you couldn’t even get a pint of milk for tea for days after the 25th–still, offices shut down, little business is done, and mostly you hang out. If you have family you might spend time with them, if you are a Christmas “orphan” that is, no family, you hang with friends. (These days I hang with my dogs, but then I celebrate each and every festival with them; they are very festive pooches).

Scrolling back the years, though, we spent Christmas with Antonietta who may have lived in the UK for decades but so Italian you think about bringing your passport when you go visit. In true Italian Christmas style her offerings were lavish: piles of beautiful cured meats, bowls of olives, plates of seafood, vegetable tarts, a turkey scented with truffle. She made risotto. There were cheeses. And in British style we ate, and then noshed on leftovers for the next few days. And each time we thought about a nosh, Antonietta said: “Wait! Lets have some carta di musica to go with it!”

She would take several rounds of the paper-thin flatbreads that look much like the parchment upon which music is traditionally written, pop them individually into a very hot oven to toast golden for a few minutes then drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with fresh rosemary then coarse salt. When all the sheets were done she piled them onto a plate and we ate them with whatever was left from Christmas dinner. At the end of our several day visit there was still leftover turkey, prosciutto, vegetable tarts, leftover everything in fact. Except carta di musica; there wasn’t a sheet left.

I was thinking of this the past week of Pesach, the holiday when Jews are commanded to forgo leavened bread and eat only unleavened, ie matzo. Many get tired of matzo after a few days; even those who normally love matzo reach the very end of their tolerance, let alone love. The Jews I know who “keep Pesach” that is, eat no levened bread but only matzo, among other things, usually need to take a little break when the holiday is over. For many, its awhile before matzo starts looking appealing again. But for myself? I just keep looking for new ways to eat matzo.

And today, it still being Pesach albeit the last stretch, I was thinking of tasty things to do with matzo until bread was back on the scene. Suddenly I remembered that Christmas with Antonietta and a lightbulb went off in my head–why not toast matzo, drizzle it with olive oil, sprinkle it with salt and rosemary, just like with carta di musica!

Crisp Toasted Matzo with Rosemary, Olive Oil, and Sea Salt.
Per person
Serve with a glass of wine and a bowl of olives.

1 sheet of matzo
About 2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
About 2 teaspoons coarsely chopped fresh rosemary
Several large pinches coarse or flaked sea salt

Break the matzo up into cracker sized pieces, 6 to 8 per sheet.
Place on a baking sheet under a hot broiler and lightly toast until golden light brown, first on one side, then on the second.
Immediately transfer the toasted matzo to a plate, drizzle with the olive oil, sprinkle with the rosemary and salt, then serve.