I am driving really fast and the only thing that matters are the mustard greens in my passenger seat – curly, bushy, and green as hell, like spring is on our doorstep now. If I make the green light then everything, I swear all of it (including the broken glass, the mountain of ants, my bloody sole, the vacuum full of ants) is right in the world. If I make this light I will forgive the fact that we’re stuck here in the middle of America dreaming about what the coast smells like. Don’t worry, sometimes it’s not great. We’re only missing out on what our dreams dictate.
If the light turns yellow I will naturally wonder why I didn’t drive faster, why everytime it snows they put hats on the presidents’ heads, why it still has to snow in june, and why often I think it’s a chore to open my eyes. I won’t blame the yellow light on you (and definitely not the mustard greens), but I will find a way to blameshift it into the atmosphere like the prairie winds caused a fault in the electrical wiring because I was surely driving fast enough. If and when it turns red I will look at the person beside me in traffic and when they look back they’ll understand that life is full of compartments, confounding moments, and compounding headaches stewed over by red lights and remedied only by soupy, thick panade with spicy passenger seat mustard greens. I was late but it was worth it.
- 1 lb/1 large round of 1-2 day old peasant bread, cubed
- salt, pepper, oil
- ¼ cup olive oil
- 2 lb sweet yellow onion -
- 2 medium leeks, washed -
- 2 shallots -
- 2 bunches of scallions, whites and fresh greens -- all sliced thin.
- 1½ tsp fresh thyme, minced
- 3 cloves garlic, slivered
- ¼ cup red wine
- 1 lb mustard greens, tender stems chopped into rounds and the leaves sliced into ribbons.
- 1 tsp fresh parsley, minced
- 1 tsp fresh dill, minced
- 3-4 cups vegetable broth
- 6-8 oz shredded gruyere cheese
- preheat oven to 375 degrees. toss cubed bread with salt, pepper, and a few drizzles of oil to coat. splay on a large baking sheet and bake 20-25 minutes, until golden. set aside and leave oven on to temperature.
- in a large dutch oven with a lid heat the olive oil. add the yellow onion, leek, shallot, scallions and thyme. top with a generous crackling of pepper and some kosher salt. heat onions over medium, and leave lid on and undisturbed about 10 minutes. stir onions and continue to cook another 10-15 minutes, until softened and golden. add garlic and heat until fragrant, 1 minutes. add wine, stir, and cook until reduced into onions. set onions aside.
- to the dutch oven add the mustard greens, parsley, dill, a drizzle of oil, salt, pepper, and a few drops of water. heat and stir greens until wilted.
- in a medium pot add the vegetable broth, bring to a low simmer, and remove from heat.
- assemble the panade in a 2 quart baking dish. cover the bottom with a layer of bread cubes, cover the bread with a thick layer of onions, next with a blanket of greens, and finally a layer of shredded cheese. repeat assemblage to use all ingredients, finishing the top with a little of everything.
- place baking dish on a metal sheet pan and pour the simmered vegetable broth into the side of the dish, from 1 inch-to the top depending on how soft you'd prefer the panade. cover dish with tin foil and place, on sheet pan, into the oven. bake 45 minutes - 1 hour, or until the edges are well browned and bubbling. remove foil and cook uncovered an additional 10-15 minutes.
I’ve never heard of a panade but it looks both rustic and rich. Thanks, Danielle, for introducing me to a new way to use the leafy greens I love. And right now, the East Coast at least smells like snow covered hyacinths and daffodils struggling to stand tall.
Jean, thank you. The panade is indeed both that you describe, and a sure treat for a chilled spring evening. It almost bears an identity to french onion soup in a casserole-esque form – some of my favorite flavors. – – May the snowy flowers in the east stand soon. xo
I love what you made once you got home with those beautiful mustard greens. Our farmers grow them here so when I see them at the farm come spring time and some in the fall, I grab them. Fast. I’ve only come to know them a short while ago, but I have come to cherish their short showing. I’ve never heard of a panade before, but oh my, Danielle! The flavors are deep and ones that I crave. I’ll be on the look out for mustard greens. In the mean time, the gold finches have arrived, the rufus humming birds are doing their arial courtship displays and the tree swallows are looking for nest sites. I love this time of year. xo
Traci – I love your words, they always bring the loveliest smile to me. – – My relationship with mustard greens has been brief, perhaps a few years, but they are indeed a sheer delight to grow and eat! I love that you snatch them up. Their bite works so well amongst the rich and heavy elements of this dish. – – This is my time of year, too – there is so much growth and regeneration, emergence and life- I can only imagine the variety that surrounds you. Here the robins are singing fat and curiously eyeing our well to do worm population. xo