In the early season, when trips to the farmers market yield just a few bits of local produce, the pressure’s on. As a cook, you’ve got only one or two chances to enjoy the fruits of the land before it’s back to the winter slog of canned whatever, dairy, starch and meat. So you’d better make that green stuff – the season’s first herbs, a bunch of radishes – shine.

Yesterday’s first trip to the Midtown Farmers Market produced a haul consisting of exactly one small box of pea shoots, courtesy Growing Lots Urban Farm. The delicate sprouts don’t exactly lend themselves to front-and-center, main-course prominence. When more abundant, pea shoots are great in stir-frys, a fresh pea soup, or in a salad, but I worried those options would have blunted the shoots’ flavor or required use of too many additional, non-local vegetables, stealing attention from the shoots.

I settled – eventually – on this pasta with cream, ham and mushrooms – ingredients that would provide rich background flavors that would allow the bright green pea shoots  to garner the attention they deserved and drive the tastes of the dish. Plus, with pasta from North Dakota, cream from New Prague, mushrooms from Wisconsin and prosciutto (americano) from Iowa, it felt true to the farmers market eat-local ethos, even if it’s too early for the market to really support it.

Shells with pea shoots and cream

Ingredients:

• 1# shells or other pasta
• Olive oil
• 6 oz crimini mushrooms, sliced 1/4″ thick
• 2 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 cup cream
• 2 oz prosciutto, sliced thin
• 1 cup pea shoots

1. Bring a pot of water to a boil and cook the pasta.
2. While the pasta is cooking, heat oil in large skillet over medium heat. Add mushrooms and cook until well browned. Add garlic and cook for 30 seconds. Pour in cream.
3. When the cream has reduced significantly and is quite thick, stir in the prosciutto and the pea shoots, reserving a few raw pea shoots to garnish the bowls. Stir until the shoots wilt, just a few seconds.
4. Toss cream mixture with cooked pasta until evenly distributed. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve, topping each bowl with a small bunch of raw pea shoots.

I know, I know, Minnesota, you’re tired of hearing about how crappy the weather has been. So I won’t dwell on the fact that today, May 4th, the opening day of the 2013 Midtown Farmers Market season, didn’t exactly present us with “farmers market weather.” 35° and rainy isn’t unbearable but it doesn’t make you want to linger outside.

But it did beg for comparison with last year’s opening – which to be fair was a day later, May 5. Minnesota was enjoying a long period of freakishly nice weather at the time, reflected in the market’s bounty: strawberries, asparagus and rhubarb – produce one doesn’t usually expect until later in the month. This year’s produce availability was more typical: we bought the only green edible there, pea shoots from Growing Lots Urban Farm.

We spent maybe 15—20 minutes at the market – less time than it takes to bike there and back – and decided to take our breakfast tamales to go. The vendors who had to set up in the downpour this morning and will stand at their stalls wearing as many layers as they can have my admiration and gratitude. Even though these early markets can be kind of unpleasant weather-wise and don’t yield much in the way of produce – in a normal year anyway – it’s one of the most exciting times to be at the market as, week after week, the land’s bounty begins to ramp up. I can’t wait to see what next Saturday will bring.

With any luck, I’ve captured the official last snowfall of the year. On the left are images from my morning walk on Tuesday, while on the right are scenes from my morning walk on Friday. It’s been an odd week to say the least. We did our fair share of groaning at last week’s snow (and sleet, and hail), but I didn’t so much mind the Monday night snow that I woke up to on Tuesday morning. Even an April snow shower is easy to stomach under sunny blue skies. As I write this, I have the windows open and listen to the chirping of birds. The city has come alive. Our hibernation is over and we are collectively and enthusiastically seizing the day. A morning ride revealed as much–the trails are crowded with people on bike and on foot. What remains of the snow are only parking lot mini mountains. And that’s all I’ll say for now. It’s not a day to be sitting inside.

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and it’s true. After all, why bother copying something you don’t like? Take pizza. There are the classics: margherita, marinara, pepperoni – everyone can make these. But when a pizzeria comes up with a truly novel and interesting combination of toppings, what can one do but try to copy it?

Here are three pies I’ve started to make at home, shamelessly ripped off from some of my favorite pizzerias:

Punch: Adriatico

I am an unabashed fan of Punch Neapolitan Pizza. There are people who complain that Punch pizzas are dragged down by their soggy, wet-cardboard crust, but those people are wrong. It’s right in the restaurant’s name: Punch is making Neapolitan pies, and they’re making them right to style. Droopy pizza points bothering you? There’s a reason they serve pizza in Italy with a knife and fork. (Though, with a well-executed fold I’ve never had a problem with this.) Some people are also put off by the fact that Punch is a chain, but I think this actually puts pizza in its proper context – it’s casual food, not something to be exalted in a temple. That a chain produces such a solid Neapolitan pie is all the more to their credit.

Punch was the first pizzeria I fell in love with on moving to Minneapolis and over the years I’ve tried most of the pizzas on their menu. My favorite is the Adriatico: feta, caper, onion, saracene olive, oregano. Since I usually have most of these ingredients on hand, the Adriatico is a pie I frequently imitate. It’s easy: stretch out neapolitan-style dough, top with crushed tomato sauce, add mozzarella, then scatter capers, thinly-shaved onions (use a mandoline), olives and feta (it works fine without the extra cheese). After the pizza bakes, sprinkle it generously with dried oregano.

Motorino: Brussels sprout

Martha and I went to New York over Thanksgiving to visit our friend Ryan, and whenever people ask me about our trip all I can talk about is where we ate. Hey, it’s not my fault that at the time Ryan was living in the East Village, a block and a half from momofuku noodle bar and just a block from Motorino. Not being a New Yorker, I don’t pay much attention to the New York restaurant scene, but Motorino has gotten enough buzz in the online pizza world that I knew the name, and when I realized how close we were (serendipitously, we were just out walking and there it was) I insisted that we eat there.

Motorino’s reputation for quality pizza is well-deserved and we ordered a number of classic pies that were very well done. But the table favorite was a combination I’ve never had before, labeled simply “Brussels sprout”. It’s listed on the menu as: “BRUSSELS SPROUT: FIOR DI LATTE / GARLIC / PECORINO / SMOKED PANCETTA / E.V. OLIVE OIL.” After we got home from our trip, I became obsessed with this pizza, making a version every week. To make it, I stretch out a crust and drizzle it with olive oil and top it sparsely with mozzarella. I take a few brussels sprouts and slice them on the mandoline, not too thin. and spread them on top of the crust, followed by chopped raw bacon. After baking 10 minutes at 500ºF (less time if you have a hotter oven!) the edges of the sprouts will be dark brown and well-roasted, crispy, and the whole pie will be imbued with the flavor of rendered bacon fat. Finish it with a grating of pecorino or parmesan cheese.

Black Sheep: #8

I’m just going to say it, and it shouldn’t even be controversial: Black Sheep makes the best pizza in the Twin Cities. This is mostly due to the crust, crackling and charred from its time in the coal-fired oven, yet still moist and soft in the mouth. It’s a crust that’s not quite Neapolitan and not quite New Haven, but sort of combining positive characteristics of both.

But I also give Black Sheep a lot of credit for their creative topping combinations, interesting but never weird just for weirdness’ sake. I almost always order a #7: “Oyster Mushroom, Smoked Mozzarella, Rosemary & Garlic.” I wish I had jumped on the Black Sheep bandwagon soon enough to have experienced the missing #6, which a server once told us involved clams but had to be scrapped when they couldn’t keep the seafood fresh enough. And then there’s #8: “Chicken & Pickled Peppers.”

Now, I know there are some who consider chicken on pizza to be an abomination. (I grew up eating chicken pizza – even now I can picture the yellowing magazine page with the recipe on it – so I’ve never suffered from this impediment.) To be fair, it’s easy to do a chicken pizza wrong, chicken breast dries out easily in the oven. Black Sheep tackles the dryness problem by skipping delicate breasts for heartier chicken thighs, which they braise and pull (NB: I haven’t actually asked if this is what they do, it’s just my impression from eating the pizza). Atop the chicken goes pickled hot peppers. I remember ordering this with some trepidation the first time and being totally surprised by the presentation, and surprised again by how well it worked.

To make #8 at home, I took two chicken thighs and put them in a small pot with a crushed garlic clove, a quarter teaspoon of whole cumin seeds, a few dried red peppers and a pinch of salt, adding water to not-quite-cover the meat. I brought the pot to a low simmer and let it cook, stirring now and then, until the water was almost entirely evaporated. This took about an hour, meaning you can do it while you heat your oven for pizza. After the chicken cooked so long it shredded easily. For the pizza, I topped dough with crushed tomato sauce, spread the shredded chicken, added thinly-sliced pickled jalapeños (I liked the heat but Martha found it too much – pepperoncini might be a more reasonable choice) and a light sprinkling of mozzarella.

It started with an innocent question, fueled perhaps by a too strong Blue Moon cocktail: “Can you put lemon slices on a pizza?”

I thought immediately of chicken piccata, a dish notable for including whole lemon slices – rind and all, in the sauce. If it works over pasta, it should work on pizza too.

I took a lemon, cut off its end, and sliced it paper-thin on the mandoline, then did the same with a zucchini. After shaping the pizza dough, I drizzled it with olive oil and added the lemon and zucchini slices haphazardly, along with some capers – also inspired by the piccata sauce. For cheese, I happened to have halloumi, which worked well, but I imagine mozzarella or any other melting cheese of mild flavor would work fine. Finishing the cooked pie with red pepper flakes added a touch of heat.

And so the Piccazza was born. Lemon and capers are a great combination and putting them on pizza didn’t diminish it any. Our lemon that night happened to be one with an extra-thick rind which meant more bitter pith. Not really a problem since the slices are so thin, but making it again I might feel for a more thin-skinned lemon, or use a Meyer lemon with its slight rind. But I will make it again.