White Anchovy Toasts

The prodigal cook has returned! With recipes I've been meaning to tell you about. For example. You know how white anchovies are amazing? (It's possible that you don't know. If you don't know, don't tell me. I prefer to continue in my blissful delusion that everyone knows white anchovies are amazing. And there are plenty of anchovies in the sea, but there are not plenty of anchovy recipes on this blog, so I am fixing that. Immediately. Ready? Let's go.)

I was recently in Charlottesville for a conference, where I spent a disproportionate amount of my time dreamily consuming the menu of the incomparable Alley Light, which is a wondrous little foodie destination that you should visit if you are ever in Charlottesville (or a 100 mile radius thereof). This recipe is loosely based on one of their small plates, and pairs wonderfully with a dry rosé and a warm summer evening.

Ingredients
1 can butter beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 bunch parsley
2 inches of green garlic, or half a clove regular garlic
Olive oil
Boquerones (marinated white anchovies)
Sliced bread (e.g., a baguette) for toasts

In a food processor, blend the butter beans, parsley, garlic, and a glug of olive oil until smooth.

Toast the toasts; let cool for a minute.

Spread the parsley puree on the toasts, top with an anchovy or two, and serve.


Makes enough parsley spread for 15-20 toasts. The spread works well under smoked salmon, too (you might want to add a squeeze of lemon juice and a pinch of lemon zest to the spread itself, and/or sprinkle some capers to pair with the salmon).

Best Ever Coffee Rub

Once upon a time, in a land only slightly far away, I acquired a Carbonic.

What is a carbonic, you ask? And should it be capitalized?

Probably the internets would know. Also the wine guy from whom I bought the carbonic, who explained exactly how you take a pinot noir and something something carbonic maceration something fascinating chemical process something, but by the time he got to that part, he had poured the (potentially-captial-C but-who-really-knows) Carbonic into the glass and I was entirely focused on the startling and deeply delightful fact that it smelled exactly like someone had opened a freshly ground bag of Peet's 101 blend coffee right under my nose, and this is pretty much one of my favorite smells in the universe, and here it was in a glass of wine right here in front of me, only how did the amazing, earthy, chocolatey, rich smell of just-ground coffee get into my glass of wine? Nobody knew. Least of all me. I swirled and sipped and bought.

I decided that this was a bottle of wine that deserved to be cooked for.

 
"Dear Carbonic," I wrote, shyly, in my mind. "You are most cordially invited to dinner. I will cook for you. Tuesday. Bring a glass."

On Tuesday, I acquired lamb chops. Also some finely ground decaf coffee. Also purple potatoes and rosemary. Also salad ingredients featuring a pomelo, because I thought the carbonic would like pomelo.

We just knew each other like that.

I opened the carbonic. I poured a little into a glass. I sniffed. Coffee. Paprika? Maybe a hint of herbiness in the background, like oregano or thyme.

I poked around the spice rack. Little of this, little of that. The result? An easy yet mouthwatering coffee rub perfect for lamb chops, steak, roasts...even extra firm tofu might work.

But if you have a carbonic over at your house for dinner? Lamb chops. Rubbed with this. And roasted potatoes with rosemary. And salad with avocado and pomelo.

Ingredients
1/4 cup finely ground decaf French Roast coffee
2 scant tbsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp sweet paprika
Pinch of cayenne pepper
Lots of freshly ground white pepper
1 tsp dried oregano
Pinch dried thyme

Combine in a bowl.

Rub generously over lamb chops about 10 minutes before cooking. Heat a pan over medium heat, drizzle with a little olive oil, then place the chops in the pan. Cook about 3 minutes per side or until medium rare.

Serves 4-8.