We’ve had the longest and most glorious New York spring that I’ve ever experienced here. Though today it’s gray and wet, I don’t even mind—that’s how good the good days have been: Lit-up green everywhere, trees swaying in some perfect breeze, wildflowers and rhododendrons and dogwood blossoms swaying with them, and the temperature oscillating between t-shirt and zip-up hoodie. It’s basically torture to not be outside. The spring greenery is taking over my kitchen, too. Shopping at the farmers market, I can’t escape or resist the supple little pea and sunflower shoots, baby heads of lettuce that appear as if they’ll bruise if I breathe on them, spring onions and snap peas and asparagus, all demanding to be eaten immediately.

I woke up last Sunday, up early to go for a hike with some friends, and I was already thinking about what I’d make for dinner that night. I spent the day climbing up a large rock to Breakneck Ridge, and up and down another summit, and all the while I fine-tuned that dinner in my head. By the time we were driving home, dinner was fully in focus. I wanted green crepes. I wanted to fill them with more green, in this case watercress, which I haven’t been able to resist because at this time of year it’s supple, spicy, and sweet, not tough or woody.

The final, crucial element is a cracker spread I came up with as part of lunch for the hike: radish top cream cheese. It feels like something that might have been served out of a bread bowl 25 years ago. But it utilizes the radish greens, which I sometimes struggle to find use for (though you can certainly toss them in with your salad greens, or add them to a stir-fry, or use as you would any other green; just make sure you’ve washed all the grit off). That cracker spread was a perfect snack up at the vista where we ate, overlooking the Hudson river—cool, savory, tangy, and easy to eat—and it’d be great on any cream cheese vessel you can think of, like sandwiches, as a dip, on a bagel, folded into an omelet or scrambled eggs.

But it found a perfect home in these crepes. I’d given this dinner so much thought that it would have been impossible for it to fail. The cream cheese keeps things just rich enough; the cilantro-loaded crepes are deceptively robust, taking on a slightly brittle exterior in the final encounter with the sauté pan; the watercress is barely wilted before you snatch it off the heat, guaranteeing some texture and delicate spice; and then a touch of lemon zest sharpens the flavors. Don’t be dismayed by the length or the component-heaviness of the recipe—steps can easily be split up, and your leftover cream cheese will not go to waste.

Green Spring Crepes with Radish Top Cream Cheese and Watercress

Serves 3 or 4

Radish Top Cream Cheese
Fresh greens from 1 bunch radishes, tough stems removed (2 to 3 cups, loosely packed)
8 ounces cream cheese
1/4 cup crème fraiche or sour cream
1 small garlic clove
Juice and zest of 1 lemon
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Green Spring Crepes
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons whole milk
2 eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups gently packed cilantro leaves and tender stems (about half a bunch)
1 cup all-purpose flour (use up to 1/3 cup buckwheat or whole-wheat flour for the all-purpose here if you’d like)
1/2 teaspoon salt
Pinch sugar

For crepe assembly
Olive oil
1 small bunch watercress, tough stems removed (about 7 or 8 cups, loosely packed)
Lemon juice
Salt and pepper

To make the cream cheese:

1. Bring a saucepan of water to boil, and add salt as you would to pasta cooking water. Prepare an ice bath. Submerge the greens in the boiling saltwater and blanch for about 45 seconds, just until wilted and vibrantly green, stirring periodically to shake off any remaining grit. Using tongs, a slotted spoon, or a spider, transfer to the ice bath to cool. Use your hands to squeeze out as much water as possible. Roughly chop the greens.

2. Combine the greens and all remaining ingredients in a food processor and process until smooth. Adjust seasoning, adding more lemon, salt, and pepper as needed. Stored in an airtight container, the cream cheese will keep for 4 or 5 days.

To make the crepes:

1. Combine all ingredients, in the order listed, in a blender, and puree until smooth, scraping down the sides of the pitcher as needed. Let stand for 30 minutes, or refrigerate overnight. The batter should be slightly less thick than heavy cream. If it seems too thick, whisk in additional milk by the teaspoon.

2. Heat a 10-inch nonstick sauté pan, well-seasoned skillet, or crepe pan over medium-high heat. Add a small amount of oil and use a brush to distribute a very thin layer evenly over the pan and to soak up any excess oil (don’t overgrease it or your crepes will end up soggy). Using a ladle or measuring cup, swirl in a scant 1/4 cup of batter into the pan, tilting as you do so as to quickly establish an even layer of batter. Don’t worry if it’s not a perfect circle. Cook for about a minute and a half, until the edges begin to curl up and the bottom is lightly browned in parts. Carefully slip a narrow spatula under one edge, then flip the crepe over—I use my asbestos fingers to do this—to brown the other side. Cook for about 1 minute more, until little brown splotches appear on the bottom side and the crepe is pliant. Transfer to a plate. Continue in the same manner with remaining batter, stacking the finished crepes on the plate. You should have about 10 crepes. Refrigerated and wrapped tightly, the crepes will keep for a day or two.

To assemble:

1. Return the pan used to cook the crepes to the heat and pour in a splash of olive oil. Add the watercress and cook, tossing constantly, until it just begins to wilt but still retains crunch—less than a minute. Transfer to a plate and dress with a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.

2. To assemble the crepes, lay out a crepe, pretty, shiny side down, on a work surface. Spread about a tablespoon of the cream cheese over one half of the crepe, then top with a handful of the watercress. Fold the crepe in half, and then in half again to make a quarter. Repeat with remaining crepes (or as many crepes as you’d like to eat—you want to assemble the crepes as you eat them, not store them for any length of time pre-assembled).

3. Wipe out excess oil from the pan and return it to medium heat. Add the crepes, 3 or 4 at a time, and cook until browned and slightly crisp, about 2 minutes per side. Serve immediately.

For Mother’s Day, Food52 let me share a little essay I wrote about my mom and the first recipe I ever came up with—which is these lemon bars, dubbed “Lucas’ Luscious Lemon Bars.” It’s a slight detour from the veggie madness thing, but if you like lemon bars, I can vouch for that recipe. (And if you’re curious about the spelling of my name, it’s kind of an embarrassing story—about college, and self-expression, and poetry I was writing at the time—but suffice it to say that at the time I was making these lemon bars it was “Lucas,” and now I spell it “Lukas.”)  

And lately I’m having trouble keeping up around here, sorry about that. Over on the Facebook page I’ve been sharing Instagram photos of the lunches I’m making. Here are a few favorites from last week. (And if you care to follow on Instagram, my profile is LukasVolger.)

On Monday I made a soba bowl with seasoned dashi, watercress, avocado, and sesame seeds.

On Wednesday I tried something I’m calling a “fri-strata,” a hybrid of fritatta and strata, with asparagus, shallots, and parmesan. I loved this.

And on Friday, it was time for a Big Salad: this one has red leaf, pepitas, carrots, avocado, and a lemony vinaigrette.

More soon!

Now that asparagus and ramps and spring onions and all the verdant promise of a springtime farmers market are finally inching onto our plates, how about a nice and hearty Lentil and Cabbage Bake for dinner. Does that sound good? No? Am I a little off base? Oh well, this happened last spring, too. I suppose I’m always a little reluctant to close the book on cold-weather comfort food.

The inspiration for 95% of my meals comes from the leftovers residing in my refrigerator, and a tub of cooked lentils and a half of a cabbage are what led to this skillet bake. I ate something similar a few weeks ago, made with chickpeas and tomatoes, and the ease and heartiness was appealing. This one is equally so: so much great texture in the cabbage, lentils, and crunchy topping, and robust earthy flavor, perked up with a bit of tomato paste and red wine vinegar. And I haven’t done the math since, as I said, this is a leftovers-inspired meal, but I’m willing to bet this would serve four people for under $10. (Those are New York prices.)

Cabbage, with its good dose of vitamins K and C and many of the other nutritional perks common among the cruciferous, is one of those things I always mean to eat more often than I do. I like it, and I find that when not boiled to death, most everyone I serve it to likes it, too. A few nights ago I sautéed it in butter with a pinch of sugar and a lot of black pepper, and that comprised most of a light dinner. And I use red cabbage in one of my favorite recipes in Vegetarian Entrees that Won’t Leave You Hungry, in the Red Cabbage Galette (I shared that recipe with Walkin Kitchen a few months ago).

If you’re going to cook your lentils in advance, as I did, be sure to cool and store them in their cooking liquid. This prevents them from drying out. And by seasoning them with salt towards the end of cooking, you’ll have both nicely flavored lentils and a nicely flavored broth, which gets put to use in this recipe.

Lentil and Cabbage Skillet Bake
Serves 4 or 5

4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 celery stalks, diced
1 leek, white part only, sliced into thin half-rings
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
4 cups shredded cabbage (about half a small head)
1 teaspoon salt
Pinch sugar
3 cups cooked brown lentils, cooking liquid reserved
1 teaspoon red wine vinegar
Pepper
1-1/2 cups very coarse breadcrumbs, preferably homemade, or 3/4 cup of panko
Pinch herbes de providence, or smaller pinches of dried thyme, rosemary, and parsley

1. Preheat the oven to 400° F.

2. Heat 3 tablespoons of the olive oil in a 10- or 12-inch oven-safe skillet over medium heat. When hot, add the celery and leeks and cook until they just start to soften, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and tomato paste and cook for about a minute, stirring, until fragrant. Add the cabbage, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and sugar and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, until tender. Add several grinds of black pepper and taste, adding additional salt if needed. Stir in the lentils and 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid, cook until the beans are heated through, then remove from the heat. Taste again for balance, then spread the mixture into an even layer.

3. Combine the breadcrumbs with remaining 1 tablespoon oil, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and the dried herbs. Distribute the breadcrumbs over the beans. Bake for about 15 minutes, until the topping is golden-brown and crisp. Serve hot.

[Apologies for the lapse here. I hope you didn’t miss Martha Rose Shulmans’ great column a few weeks ago in the New York Times that focuses on veggie burgers.]

This burger has been in the works for a little while. The seeds were planted sometime two years ago, when I started making my own kimchi. I first used it as a condiment for veggie burgers, and from there, it wasn’t long before I thought to use it in the veggie burgers. But it took a while before I got the formula right. As usual, I wanted to add too much—watercress, chard, bok choy, tofu, seitan—and each previous attempt resulted in a flavor that was cloudy at best, and unpalatable at worst. So I did as Amanda Hesser advised in an interview that I can no longer locate (I’m paraphrasing): Cooking is similar to that rule about dressing yourself, take one item off before you leave the house.

I actually took a few items off and pared this one down to its bare essentials: rice, kimchi, scallions, a few Asian flavoring agents, and a binder. I wanted this burger to be vegan, so from the outset I nixed eggs. As mentioned, I tried tofu, blitzed into a paste and then stirred in, and that just muddied everything up. I thought back to my first experiments with vegan binders, when I found rice flour to have some admirable qualities. So I went with that—rice flour, water, and a pinch of salt whisked together—and it worked perfectly.

Also worth mentioning is that while my method has always been to sear veggie burgers in a skillet then finish cooking them in the oven—this results in the best texture, I find—a fella can’t change his ways every once in a while. I discovered recently that by swapping the order—oven first, then sear in a skillet—you eliminate the danger of the burgers crumbling apart as you flip them. This is especially good with more delicate mixtures.

With this recipe, taste as you go. Kimchi always varies in saltiness and heat level, so you may want to add more or less salt, soy sauce, and chili paste. And as for serving, this is blasphemy, but I haven’t yet had these burgers on a bun. They just make more sense without, at least to me. (Call them kimchi rice cakes!) My favorite condiments are a few slices of avocado and a sprinkling of soy sauce, but I can also vouch for topping with a fried egg, especially at breakfast time, which obviously negates all the vegan claims.

Vegan Kimchi Veggie Burgers

Makes 4 burgers

3 tablespoons neutral oil
1 teaspoon sesame oil
2 scallions, white and pale green parts, thinly sliced
1 cup vegetarian kimchi, drained and finely chopped*
2 tablespoons white rice flour**
3 tablespoons water
Pinch salt
1-1/2 cups day-old cooked rice (white or brown)
1 teaspoon soy sauce (or tamari, if making gluten-free)
1/2 teaspoon chili paste

1. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil and the sesame oil over medium heat in a skillet. Add the scallions and chopped kimchi. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, until the scallions are softened and the mixture is fragrant.

2. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the rice flour, water, and salt until smooth. Add the kimchi, cooked rice, soy sauce, and chili paste, mixing together with a spatula until combined. Shape into 4 burgers, about 1/2 cup of mixture each, and arrange on a parchment-lined baking sheet.

3. Preheat the oven to 400° F. Let the burgers sit while the oven preheats.

4. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until lightly browned on each side and firm to the touch. The burgers can be cooled and refrigerated at this point for up to 2 to 3 days. Let come to room temperature before proceeding.

5. To sear the burgers. Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the burgers, in batches if necessary, and cook, undisturbed, for 2 minutes on each side, until crisp and browning at the edges. Serve hot, with garnishes of choice.

* Most store-bought kimchi contains either fish sauce or salted shrimp, or both, which disqualifies them as vegetarian. But vegetarian kimchi is easy and fun to make—I have a recipe in Vegetarian Entrees that Won’t Leave You Hungry. Additionally, some kimchi may include gluten, if you’re concerned about making these gluten-free. Check the labels carefully.

** As I note in Veggie Burgers Every Which Way, rice flour can be found inexpensively in the “ethnic” sections of grocery stores, or in the health food sections, where it’s not so inexpensive. You can also grind up rice in a spice grinder to make your own.

The second day of spring probably isn’t the best time to start talking about comfort food. Creamed spinach fits squarely in this realm: on the holiday table, at Sunday supper, down south, nudged up against fried stuff. And if it weren’t for the several pounds of spinach I have in my fridge, I probably wouldn’t have thought to make it myself.

Spinach has such easy appeal, it was my first favorite dark green. It’s a mild but meaty, clean slate for all sorts of different treatments. I like it in stir fries, curries, and saag paneer; stirred into lentil soup, stuffed into an omelet, or even raw, in a salad, though spinach salads seem to be waning in popularity nowadays. Enriching it with something creamy, as it is here, is just one way to showcase its charm.

But I’m going to sidestep the problem of it not being comfort food season and argue that this is creamed spinach made dainty. This is creamed spinach for a luncheon, where it’s the main draw rather than the side dish. And after all, spinach is one of those items that we’ll find at the farmers’ market in the next several weeks, so I’m not entirely off base.

I’ve seen creamed spinach dishes at restaurant where it looks more like spinached cream—sad, shredded leaves swimming in a pale green bath. This isn’t like that. Here it’s a light, garlic infused coating—made from béchamel, not heavy cream—on tender leaves and finished with a pop of heat. The hard-boiled eggs were a midnight-hour twist, but I like funk and chew they bring to the plate.

Creamed Spinach Toasts with Hard-Boiled Eggs

Serves 3 or 4, as a light main

10 ounces spinach, cleaned and trimmed of tough stems
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
1 plump garlic clove, slivered
1 tablespoon flour
2/3 cup milk
1/4 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
A few gratings of fresh nutmeg
Pinch cayenne
4 or 5 slices bread, well toasted
Red pepper flakes, to garnish
2 hard boiled eggs*

1. Blanch, steam, or sauté the spinach: To blanch, add the spinach to a pot of boiling water until just wilted, 15 to 25 seconds. To steam, bring an inch of water to boil in a saucepan, lower in a steaming insert, add the spinach, cover, and cook until wilted, about 2 minutes. To sauté, heat a splash of oil in a sauté pan and add the just cleaned—still wet—spinach to it and cook, tossing with tongs, until wilted, about 2 minutes. Transfer the cooked spinach to a colander to drain, then when it’s cool enough to handle, use your hands to gently squeeze out excess liquid. This step can easily be done up to 2 days in advance, just store the cooked greens in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

2. Prepare the creamed spinach: Heat the oil in a saucepan over low heat. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant and softened, being careful not to let it brown, about 2 minutes. Sprinkle in the flour and cook, whisking constantly, for a minute until you have a blond roux, which will take 1 or 2 minutes (it will just begin to smell nutty). Gradually whisk in the milk and increase the heat to medium high. Let cook until thickened to the consistency of glue. Lower the heat and stir in the salt, nutmeg, and cayenne. Stir in the cooked spinach and use a fork to break it up so that all the leaves are well coated.

3. Meanwhile toast your bread and crumble your hard-boiled eggs.

4. To serve, divide the spinach among the toasts, followed by the hard-boiled eggs. Garnish with a pinch of red pepper flakes if you’d like a bit more heat.

* To hard-boil eggs, cover eggs with cold water in a small saucepan. Place over high heat. When the water comes to a rolling boil, put a lid on the pan, remove it from the heat, and let stand for 11 minutes. Immediately transfer the eggs to an ice bath until completely cooled. I find that letting them sit in the cold water for 15 to 20 minutes, or more, makes them easier to peel.