Wanna go straight to the recipe? By all means! Just scroll on down.
GREEN SESAME TONNATO: I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED IT UNTIL I WANTED IT
I sat across the aisle from a guy on a plane today who was traveling from LA to New York with a gaggle of people. The whole bunch of ‘em walked on board with a certain swagger and vibrance that only comes when you’re under 33 and didn’t buy your own plane ticket (with extra legroom). I inquired because this guy seemed bubbly and I was procrastinating from lofty goals of laptop work: I found out that they’re all “in a band.”
Ahead of them was The Tonight Show, The Today Show, Howard Stern. “Kewl!” I said. When he talked to the woman next to me, also in the Band, they whispered over my seat about whether or not the sax was in the overhead compartment or checked. (Why so secretive? I never found out.)
He and I enter deep conversation. Cutting to the chase, he asks, “Do you like LA?” I answer easily, despite that my bicoastal reality makes the question an emotionally-loaded one. “No. Do you?” He loves LA. Whaddayaknow. A classic across-the-aisle relationship.
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I bring this up not only to flaunt the fact that I like, totally bonded with a musician today, but also to like, talk about my relationship with asparagus.
TRUE STORY
BUT FIRST, TONNATO
This week’s recipe is for an herby, sesame-y version of tonnato.
TONNATO... is… what exactly?
Blitz together oil-packed tuna, mayo, olive oil, garlic, lemon, capers, and any combination of other complementing flavors and cue the voilà moment: tonnato you now have. Vitello tonnato may sound familiar. It’s an Italian dish of boiled veal that sits atop the creamy-zippy-fishy schmear. My opinion is pretty straightforward on the matter: the sauce is among one of the more delicious things to employ as a dip or dressing for crudités, roasted or grilled vegetables, schnitzel and other fried things, toasty bread, summery tomatoes, or Cool Ranch Doritos.
Think of it as a dialed up Caesar with a hint of Green Goddess and the following subs/additions: 86 the parm, amplify the brightness, umamify with sesame oil, and replace anchovy with tuna. But actually, keep some of the anchovy.
Plated with asparagus, pecorino, more sesame oil and seeds…
BOOM. BLANCHED.
THE 180
Tonnato is unequivocally the type of thing that someone who likes asparagus would serve with asparagus. Turns out, it’s also the type of thing that someone who doesn’t like asparagus would serve with asparagus (and then decide to name a recipe 180 Degrees Asparagus to demonstrate the about-face that she experienced after devising said recipe).
HOW TO SPOT AN ASPARAGUS HATER: THEY TEND TO GRAVITATE TOWARDS THE RADISH
My plan this week was to offer you NOODLErs a bevy of ideas for how to use Green Sesame Tonnato. Despite my distaste for asparagus, I couldn’t not buy a couple of pretty gorgeous peak-season bunches this week: one purple, one green. I thought I’d photograph an example of what people who like asparagus could do, with the accompanying disclosure, of course, that I am not one of those people. I performed a quick blanch, because that’s what people who like asparagus do with asparagus during asparagus season.
TONNATO: IT TURNED MY TIDE
But once I started dismantling the haystack of asparagus I had just constructed, swiping through the sauce and rolling spears into sesame seeds and sesame oil and pecorino, the stalks began to disappear into my boca at an Olympian rate. And I decided that there’s nothing more I want you to do with this tonnato than to make exactly this asparagus recipe and this asparagus recipe alone. Because maybe you’ll have an 180 degree moment like I had, too.
OK FINE, YOU SHOULD ALSO USE THE DRESSING FOR ENDIVE
I’m deeply surprised that I’ve never heard of anyone (nor has Google) who has taken a classic tonnato in an herby-sesame direction. Could it be perhaps that tonnato isn’t as ubiquitous as it should be— evidenced by the undeserving red underlines the word receives in all of my iOS programs— and people aren’t taking it for experimental spins? This sesame tonnato thing should already be a thing.
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If only I could slather the whole of Los Angeles in a swath of my green sesame tonnato… might I consume the city with newfound appreciation and open-mindedness and fervor and, and, and?!!!
We’re all different, we people in the world. Deep thoughts, I know. How can my cool aisle mate love a city that I really just… do not? The answer is obvious, of course— we humans don’t all like the same things or agree about the best places to live. And thank the sweet heavens we don’t, or we’d all be crammed into my Ft. Greene apartment in Brooklyn, making gleeful walks up five flights multiple times a day. Can you imagine the hallway congestion?
REMEMBER, BEST PRACTICE: READ THE RECIPE START TO FINISH BEFORE YOU BEGIN COOKING!
If you have a Vitamix, it’ll yield the smoothest results. For a thicker tonnato, use fewer herbs (they give off water when pureéd) and/or a touch more mayo. Speaking of herbs: I love using a mix of the three suggested, but tarragon or dill would excel here, as well (and bring an extra little spring-like quality to the sauce). Use leftover tonnato on salads, proteins, grilled vegetables, crudités, toasty bread, sandwiches, or on a cheese plate.
One (6- to 7-ounce) jar tuna in olive oil
1 cup (packed with gusto) parsley, cilantro, and/or basil, roughly chopped
1-2 lemons
1 garlic clove, grated
⅓ cup mayonnaise
½ teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 anchovy, plus more to fit your taste
1 tablespoon (packed) capers, plus additional if desired
¾ teaspoon sesame oil, plus additional to taste and for serving
1 tablespoon olive oil, plus additional for serving
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pound asparagus, bottom 1- to 2-inches trimmed
Pecorino Romano, for serving
Toasted sesame seeds, for serving
Maldon salt, for serving
1. Drain the tuna from a 6- to 7-ounce jar tuna, reserving 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Transfer both the 1 tablespoon oil and tuna to a blender, along with 1 cup packed and roughly chopped herbs, the zest of 1 lemon, 3 tablespoons lemon juice, 1 grated garlic clove, ⅓ cup mayonnaise, ½ teaspoon Dijon mustard, 1 anchovy, 1 tablespoon capers, ¾ teaspoon sesame oil, and 1 tablespoon olive oil.
2. Blend until very, very smooth, scraping down the bowl as necessary. It may take a bit of budging to get the mixture puréeing but it will happen! Season to taste with salt and pepper. The sauce should taste punchy and full of flavor. If it doesn’t, add more salt. And a touch more lemon juice. Be aggressive with your seasoning! And feel free to customize: want more ‘chovy flavor? More brininess from capers? Go for it. Transfer to the refrigerator until well-chilled.
3. Prepare an ice water bath. Fill a wide, high-sided skillet or large pot with water and bring to a boil. Salt generously and add 1 pound trimmed asparagus. Let cook 2-3 minutes, until crisp-tender. (I prefer more crisp than tender. If you want a slightly more blanched spear, let cook for a minute longer.)
4. Transfer the asparagus to the ice bath and let sit until cold, swishing the water from time to time, about 1-2 minutes. Drain immediately. (Leaving vegetables in a water bath for too long will waterlog them and leech all of the salt that you just infused into them while blanching.)
5. Pat dry. (If not serving right away, transfer to the refrigerator.) Slather a platter with a generous amount of the chilled Sesame Tonnato and pile the asparagus on top. Using a vegetable peeler, shave a generous amount of Pecorino Romano on top, and drizzle liberally with olive oil and (a little less liberally) sesame oil. Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds, Maldon salt,and freshly ground black pepper.Add a squeeze of lemon and serve it up, with all the seasonings and extra Sesame Tonnato on the side to continue to dress and slather as you dismantle the pile of spears.
