Rabe, Rads, Rugula

Last night we continued to feast on the spring spoils of the Brookside Farmers’ Market. This time, I practiced my three Rs: rabe, rads, and rugula. (Save those extra syllables for a rainy monosyllabic day.) It went down like this:

Broccoli Rabe gets pureed with toasted almonds, Grana Padano cheese, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil and ponders: “So am I a sauce or a vegetable or what?”

And then Radishes gets totally sauteed in brown butter and finished with fresh mint and is all like: “Cooked radishes. Whaaaaat?”

Of course, Arugula comes late to the party, lightly dressed with lemon, olive oil, and salt and feels all insecure because maybe it wasn’t initially invited to the party but we’re totally glad it’s there now. Still, it’s all like, “Whatever.”

And then Chicken struts in, all “Look at me, I’m chicken. I’ve been marinating all day and my skin is super crispy and delicious.” And everyone else is like, “Get over yourself, chicken. We’d rather just hang out with these vegetables.”

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