ZUCCHINI RIBBON SALAD WITH CORN AND AVOCADO

Here would be a perfect place to employ the oft-overused (I include myself in this accusation) foodie phrase “summer in a bowl.” Summer squash, corn, avocado, cilantro, and lime all in one place is about as summery as you can get, at least without a tomato in sight. The recipe is from Two Peas and Their Pod, and while it didn’t rock my socks off quite as much as I’d hoped based on the gorgeous photos, there’s nothing not to like here. The well-matched, fresh, simple ingredients are elevated by the elegant presentation—ribbons are purty, and the white-yellow-green palette shot through with threads of purple is something I could gaze on all day long…assuming I didn’t get hungry at any point. It tastes just like the sum of its parts, but with parts like these, that’s not so bad. I especially liked the generous proportion of avocado.

I made no changes, except to use feta instead of queso fresco, because I already had it on hand. See my notes below regarding the leftovers; they’ll keep better if you leave the avocado out until you’re ready to eat.

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice
Salt and pepper to taste
2 medium zucchini
2 medium yellow squash
2 ears cooked sweet corn
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
½ red onion, sliced
2 medium ripe avocados, peeled, pitted, and sliced
½ cup queso fresco or feta cheese

1. In a large bowl, whisk the olive oil and lime juice together. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

2. Trim the ends of the zucchini and yellow squash. With a vegetable peeler, shave lengthwise into long, wide, thin strips. When you get to the center of the squash, turn the squash over and slice from the other side until you get to the center again.

3. Put the zucchini and yellow squash ribbons in a large bowl. Cut the sweet corn kernels off the cob, cutting close to the cob. Discard cobs. Add sweet corn, cilantro, red onion, and avocado slices to the squash ribbons. Pour olive oil and lime dressing over salad and toss until coated.

4. Crumble queso fresco over the top of the salad and season with salt and pepper, to taste.

Serves: 4
Time: 20 minutes
Leftover potential: Surprisingly good for a day or two, but if you plan on having leftovers, I recommend not adding the avocado in Step 3. If you plan on eating two servings now and two servings later, slice the first avocado and serve it atop the servings you intend to eat now, waiting to slice up the second avocado until you’re ready to eat the leftovers. I did the same with the cheese, adding it only to the servings only right before I ate them, but that’s less crucial.

PEACH, PROSCIUTTO, AND BASIL PIZZA

And with this, my “Put a Fruit on It” experiments have reached their zenith. I saw the base recipe at Two Peas and Their Pod and immediately wanted to try it. Then, at the end of that post, in the automatically generated “you might also like:” section, I spotted a link to a nectarine and prosciutto pizza over at A Cozy Kitchen. I knew that prosciutto and melon are frequently combined, and I was willing to bet that prosciutto and peach wouldn’t be a bad pairing at all. I thought the prosciutto might help keep the pizza firmly grounded in savory territory, balancing out the sweetness of the peaches and the balsamic reduction. (As you’ll recall, although I liked the strawberry pizza, it did seem just a bit desserty.

The Cozy Kitchen recipe applied the prosciutto after baking (along with some raw arugula, which I’m sure was quite lovely and kind of makes me want to devise an arugula, prosciutto, and nectarine salad—yeah, like this, maybe), but I decided to cook mine on the pizza itself, and I was glad I did. Placed between the cheese and the peaches, the cooked prosciutto added just the right touch of salty, greasy, porky chewiness to the otherwise soft and sweet toppings. Instead I left the basil uncooked—I hate the way it gets all browned and crispy and loses its fresh grassy greenness otherwise.

A word of warning about the balsamic reduction: It’s apt to drip off the pizza when you apply it or during baking, and when it gets on the pan, it burns like nobody’s business. It didn’t smoke up my oven, although that seems to have happened to at least one commenter. But it did transform into a charred-caramel substance that was nearly impossible to chip off the pan. I made two smaller pizzas, baked in my cast-iron skillet and my enameled cast-iron pan, and I eventually managed to scrub the blackened goo off the enamel with many tears and much elbow grease, but my regular cast iron still bears a few scarred spots a month later. I’m afraid that if it happens again, I might ruin that skillet for life. However, I refuse to stop making this pizza, because it is one of the most stellar pizzas I’ve ever made. I know I say this a lot, but it just tastes like summer, and it’s the balsamic reduction that really makes it special. So my options are to either start making this on a really old baking sheet I’m willing to sacrifice to the burnt-vinegar gods, or to drizzle on the reduction after the pizza has baked. Right now I’m leaning toward the latter choice, because I’d like to believe it won’t make too much difference. The baking does help the vinegar really soak into the peaches, but it’s so flavorful to begin with that I doubt its power will be much diminished. After I try it, I’ll let you know.

1 cup balsamic vinegar
1–2 tablespoons olive oil
8 ounces fresh mozzarella, sliced
4 ounces sliced prosciutto, torn into pieces
2 to 4 peaches, thinly sliced
½ cup freshly chopped basil

1. To make the balsamic reduction, pour balsamic vinegar into a small saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until the vinegar has reduced to ¼ cup. Set aside, and cool to room temperature.

2. To make the pizza, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Roll out the dough on a baking surface coated with cornmeal or olive oil.

3. Lightly brush the dough with olive oil. Top the dough with fresh mozzarella rounds, torn prosciutto, and peach slices. Drizzle the pizza with balsamic reduction (or wait to add the reduction until after baking; see note above).

4. Place the pizza in the oven and bake for 10 to 15 minutes, or until pizza crust is golden and cheese is melted. Remove from oven and sprinkle with chopped basil (and drizzle with the balsamic reduction if you didn’t add it earlier).

5. Let the pizza cool for a few minutes and then cut into slices and serve warm.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

ZUCCHINI, BASIL, AND FETA PIZZA

You guys, you guys, I’m back from my (sort of inadvertent) summer blog break and I have a backlog of SO MANY delicious recipes to tell you about, it is really ridiculous. Thus, I’m going to keep things short and sweet here so I can get caught up before, oh, Christmas.

I know it seems like I already have more pizza recipes than any human really needs, but when the hot weather finally rolled around (we were lucky this year in SoCal and that didn’t happen until July), I realized I don’t have a lot that feel particularly light and summery. (Besides this one. If you haven’t made it yet this summer, do it now.) So I went poking around and found just what I’d been craving, a nice white pizza with zucchini, at the always-reliable Eggs on Sunday. Even though I always put zucchini my traditional tomato-sauce pizza, I surprisingly didn’t have any other pizza recipes that used it, except, again, this one. (Have you made it yet? If not, why are you still reading this?)

I know it’s not totally necessary to have a recipe for making pizza, but I like a little guidance, and this one provided a perfect formula. I changed a few things, switching out the goat cheese (bleah) for feta (yeah) and reserving some of the basil to add on after baking so I could really enjoy its fresh taste. But on my own, I wouldn’t have come up with the idea of roasting the zucchini. I usually sauté it lightly for a clean, straight-up taste, just enough to release some of its moisture so it doesn’t make my pizza too soggy or stay too crunchy-raw; when the zucchini is the star, however, the caramelization that roasting provides adds a welcome flavor boost, and I liked the chewier texture. I also especially enjoyed the addition of cheddar cheese to the mix. Just watch out for the garlic here—I love it with zucchini, so I used a large clove, forgetting that it would stay pretty much raw. It didn’t look like that much, but it ended up permeating every bite. I’m a garlic fan, and I had no trouble eating it, but I regretted it the next day when I woke up and my mouth still tasted like garlic after several teeth brushings, flossings, and mouthwashes. Don’t get greedy like me; stick with a smallish clove.

Aside from the garlic breath, I loved this. It’s easy, fresh, pretty, and sure to become a summer staple around here.

1 medium zucchini, thinly sliced
1 medium yellow summer squash, thinly sliced
Olive oil to taste
Salt to taste
1 pound pizza dough
1 small to medium clove garlic, minced
1 pinch red pepper flakes
1 handful basil leaves, torn or thinly sliced
¾ cup shredded mozzarella cheese
¾ cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
2 ounces feta, crumbled

1. To roast the squash, preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Toss the squash slices with about 1 tablespoon olive oil and salt to taste in a large bowl, then lay them in a single layer on a baking sheet coated with parchment or aluminum foil. Roast until the bottoms begin to brown, about 10 minutes, then flip and continue roasting until the tops have started to brown as well. (Alternatively, you can grill the squash, or just sauté it in olive oil over medium heat until softened.) Set aside.

2. When you’re ready to make the pizza, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Roll out your pizza dough on an oiled baking sheet. Top with the shredded cheeses, then the garlic, red pepper flakes, cooked squash slices, half of the basil, and the crumbled goat cheese.

3. Bake pizza until the crust is golden brown and the cheese is bubbling, about 8 to 10 minutes. Sprinkle with the remaining basil.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

COCONUT CARDAMOM RICE PUDDING

I just can’t care about rice. I mean, whatever, I respect its right to exist, I recognize that it’s a vital and versatile component of many cuisines, it’s fine when it appears on my plate, it adds substance to a meal, food sits on top of it, it makes a nice vehicle for sauce, it doesn’t taste like much, blah blah yawn. I don’t seek it out, is what I’m saying. I don’t specifically order it in restaurants and I don’t cook it at home. I used to think I felt the same way about rice pudding. I mean, rice pudding is definitely preferable to plain rice, but if you gave me a choice between rice pudding and regular old nonrice pudding, I’d pick normal pudding every time.

But then my friends came to visit and cooked me an unbelievably delicious fish curry. There was leftover rice. I thought I’d be thrifty and make it into pudding. I added coconut milk, vanilla, and cardamom. I fell head over heels in love. And now I’m screwed because I don’t have a regular supply of leftover rice. Either I’m going to have to start making rice, or I’m going to have to find myself a similar rice pudding recipe that starts with uncooked rice. Oh, the injustice!

The recipe I found via Food Blog Search, from Vanilla Garlic, called for 1½ cups of cooked rice, but I had 2 cups, so I used it all and increased the liquid contents slightly, probably not in very scientific proportions. The recipe said to use 2% or whole milk, but I used 1% mixed with the dregs of a carton of heavy cream I’d been wanting to use up. In the future, if I don’t have cream already on hand, I’ll probably just try making it with 1%, because I hate buying multiple kinds of milk. I don’t think it would cause any major texture issues; you might just have to cook the pudding a bit longer to get it to thicken. I also used light coconut milk. I didn’t have any vanilla beans, so I used extract, and I added the cardamom because I adore it, and because I wanted to emulate Indian-restaurant kheer, which is the most enjoyable form of rice pudding I’ve experienced. I wasn’t quite sure about the cooking time, because the original recipe said to just “simmer over medium-low heat for 40 minutes.” I suspected this might mean to bring it to a boil at a higher heat, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 40 minutes, but I decided to take it literally, start the burner at medium-low, set the pot on it, and set the timer for 40 minutes. It took nearly half an hour just to start simmering, and at least another half-hour to reduce to a pudding-like consistency. No problem if you’ve got the time to babysit it, but if you want to speed things along I suspect it would be better to get the simmer started at a higher temperature, then turn it down.

I was so concerned about my pudding being overly soupy that I cooked it down more than I’d planned, forgetting that it would thicken a bit more once I took it off the heat. I ended up loving the texture, though—velvety, but with a satisfying chew. Because the leftover rice I’d used was broken rice, the pieces ended up quite small, reminiscent of tapioca. Even though I’m not sure whether anything bad could happen when you mix coconut milk, sugar, vanilla, and cardamom, I was still blown away by how delicious it was, especially since I’d improvised/fudged so much of the recipe along the way. Since the rice is already cooked, I don’t really think you can really mess this up too much short of burning it—just add the amount of sugar that tastes good to you and a reasonable amount of liquid, and cook it until it resembles pudding. The result is cold, creamy, not too sweet, and very refreshing as a summer dessert. And apparently, it’s made me a rice pudding convert.

2 cups cold cooked rice
1 14-ounce can coconut milk (I used light)
3 cups milk
½ cup sugar
1 pinch salt
1 vanilla bean, insides scraped out, or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼–½ teaspoon ground cardamom

1. In a medium saucepan, combine the rice, coconut milk, milk, sugar, and salt. If you’re using a vanilla bean, add the seeds and the scraped-out pod.

2. Simmer over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until thickened, at least 40 minutes, then remove from heat. If using vanilla bean, remove the pod; if using extract, stir it in. Stir in the cardamom.

3. Divide into individual servings (ramekins, small bowls, teacups, whatever), cover, and chill.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 to 1½ hours
Leftover potential: Great; will keep in sealed containers in the fridge for days.

PESTO CAVATAPPI WITH MUSHROOMS AND TOMATOES

In my misguided youth (specifically, the college and immediate postcollege years), I had a brief but intense love affair with Noodles & Company. It was a new chain at the time, and “upscale” fast food was still a new concept. My tastes, cash flow, and cooking skills were still at beginner’s levels, so a cheap, convenient place that served plentiful pasta in a variety of styles was ideal for my lifestyle. The quality was decent, and while I wouldn’t go out of my way to eat there now, I wouldn’t turn up my nose if it were the best available option in a pinch. Not that I’ve tested this assertion; there are no locations in L.A., so I haven’t eaten at Noodles in at least 8 years. But I’ve still got a soft spot in my heart for it. Recently we visited A’s hometowm of Bloomington, Indiana, where a few years ago the awesome old movie theatre on the main drag closed and was made over into a Noodles & Company location. This is pretty much the height of corporate soullessness, yet as we walked by it and A shook his fist in rage, I’ll admit that a small part of me was thinking, “Mmm…pesto cavatappi.”

Although the macaroni and cheese (with spinach and tomatoes added) was also a favorite, my most-ordered dish at Noodles was always the pesto cavatappi, a delightfully curly pasta shape tossed with mushrooms, tomatoes, and a pesto-white-wine-cream sauce. It suddenly struck me that this is the kind of thing I could easily make for myself now—and make it better, to boot—and that copycat recipes were probably widely available on the Internet. Sure enough, they were, but they all varied widely, and I couldn’t manage to find one authoritative version I was really happy with. Still, it’s hardly rocket science to toss together pasta, homemade pesto, mushrooms, and tomatoes, so I figured I could wing it. This recipe at Cooking With Cristina seemed the likeliest candidate, since it was based on one posted at Yahoo Answers by a supposed former Noodles cook, but I also threw in a few elements (red pepper flakes, garlic) from this version, just for added zip. (I rarely worry that new things I cook will fail spectacularly, but I always fear that they might turn out bland and boring.) I wanted to use a full box of pasta (I love having pasta leftovers in the fridge and hate half-empty boxes in the cupboard), so I tried to increase the other quantities accordingly (and I increased the vegetables even more, because I love vegetable-heavy pasta dishes). I used my own recipe for pesto, which is just the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook one minus the pine nuts (too expensive, they always seem to go bad before I can use them up, and ever since I started reading about pine nut mouth on the Internet I’ve been mildly afraid of them).

The result was delicious and really did taste like my memories of pesto cavatappi, but it wasn’t pesto-y enough, so I made it again with double the amount. A also thought there could have been more mushrooms, so I doubled those too. These were both excellent decisions. I increased the wine and cream quantities a bit to compensate, although the sauce ended up on the soupy side, so I’m not sure I’d go quite that far next time, which is why I’ve just given a range of measurements below. Overall, this is a wonderfully colorful and flavorful pasta dish that’s easy to make. The wine, cream (such a small quantity it’s indetectible if you don’t know it’s there, yet it adds a luxurious texture), and vegetables elevate it far above basic pasta with pesto, which (maybe because it was one of the first things I learned to cook on my own) always seems a bit dull to me now. A is less passionate about pasta on the whole than I am, but he devoured this one eagerly. I was glad to be able to serve myself a nice dose of nostalgia, but in a way that fits my cooking style today.

2 cups firmly packed fresh basil leaves
1 cup firmly packed fresh parsley sprigs, stems removed
1 cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese, plus extra to taste
4 large cloves garlic, divided
½ teaspoon salt, plus extra to taste
½ cup + 1 tablespoon olive oil, divided
1 pound cremini mushrooms, sliced
¼–½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 pint (2 cups) cherry or grape tomatoes, sliced in half
⅓–½ cup white wine
¼–⅓ cup heavy cream
1 pound cavatappi
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Place basil, parsley, 1 cup cheese, 2 peeled and quartered garlic cloves, and ½ teaspoon salt in a food processor or blender and puree into a paste. Add ½ cup olive oil and continue to process until the pesto has the consistency of softened butter. There should be about 1 cup of pesto.

2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the pasta until al dente. Drain.

3. While the pasta is cooking, heat a large skillet over medium heat and add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. When it’s warm, add the sliced mushrooms and sauté for about 5 minutes. Mince the remaining 2 cloves garlic and add them to the skillet along with the red pepper flakes. Cook 1 minute, then add the tomatoes and cook for 5 to 10 minutes, until the mushrooms have released their juices. Add the wine and reduce for about 2 minutes, then add the cream and cook for another couple of minutes, or until most of the liquid has evaporated (you still want some moisture, but the sauce shouldn’t be too soupy). Add the pesto, stir well, and remove from heat.

4. Add the cooked pasta to the sauce and toss well. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve garnished with additional grated Parmesan or Romano cheese.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Great.

SALSA VERDE BAKED CHICKEN WITH QUINOA

When I spotted tomatillos at the farmer’s market, I immediately craved salsa verde. The trouble is, I only have one recipe that uses it. Sure, that recipe is awesome, but I was supposed to be having a sedate week while recovering from a bout of busyness, and I’d taken a sworn oath to myself not to undertake any complicated cooking projects. In my book, enchiladas count as complicated. Make sauce, make filling, make a mess of the kitchen trying to fill and roll up all those tortillas. Salsa verde is easy, though—just roast and puree!—and of course there are many other uses for it. What I wanted was an efficient salsa verde delivery vehicle, without resorting to just eating chips and salsa for dinner. This idea from Simply Recipes fit the bill perfectly. Drown chicken breasts in salsa verde, bake, top with cheese, serve over rice. I substituted quinoa instead, and let me tell you, quinoa mixed with salsa verde is an excellent thing. Chicken baked in salsa verde is an excellent thing. Leftover salsa verde eaten with a spoon is also an excellent thing, but let’s keep our focus on this recipe.

I didn’t change a thing; with only four ingredients, there wasn’t much to change. I suppose you could use storebought salsa verde if there’s one that you really like, but since the salsa is the main event here, I strongly suggest making your own. As I already mentioned, it’s super easy, and you can make it up to a few days ahead of time if necessary. (You only need to make a half-recipe, but I went ahead and made the full 5 cups; we just ate the extra with chips later in the week.) You could substitute boneless, skinless chicken thighs if you like, but you may need to cook them a few minutes longer. I usually prefer thighs, but the breasts were good here—cooking them in the salsa keeps them tender. I was also thinking that you could probably shred the chicken after cooking and dump the whole mess on a taco or tostada or something, for a delicious change of pace.

2 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts (1¼ to 1⅓ pounds)
2 cups tomatillo salsa verde
4 ounces grated pepper Jack cheese
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 cup uncooked quinoa, rinsed well

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut the chicken breasts in half to yield four total portions. (I did this horizontally, but I just realized that the original recipe does it the other way. I think I’ll stick with my method, because cutting them more thinly means that they stay well submerged in the salsa.) Place the chicken pieces in a single layer to cover the bottom of an 8-by-8-inch glass baking dish.

2. Cover the chicken pieces completely with the salsa verde (if there is exposed chicken, it will dry out). Place the baking dish in the oven for 25 to 30 minutes, until chicken is cooked through. (If you have a meat thermometer, cook until the chicken reaches an internal temperature of 150 degrees.)

3. Meanwhile, place the quinoa in a saucepan with 2 cups water and ½ teaspoon salt, bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, until all liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and set aside.

4. Remove dish from oven, sprinkle the cheese over the chicken, increase the oven heat to 400 degrees, and return the dish to the oven for another 5 to 10 minutes, until the cheese is melted and the sauce is bubbly.

5. Remove from oven. Serve chicken and sauce over quinoa and sprinkle with chopped fresh cilantro.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

KALE, PEACH, CORN, AND FETA SALAD

Yep, this is totally my Summer of Putting Fruit Everywhere. Strawberries on pizza! Blueberries in corn salad! And now, peaches in kale salad. I’ve gone mad, MAD, I tell you!

I always think of kale as a winter vegetable, but it’s still sporadically available at the farmers’ market, and now that I’ve discovered how much I love it in salad form, I’d been thinking I should look for a summery treatment for it. Then I discovered this recipe from Mostly Foodstuffs. What’s more summery than cilantro, lime, corn, and peaches? And is there anything I love on a salad more than feta? This salad and I were destined for each other.

I followed the recipe exactly, except that I used red wine vinegar instead of sherry vinegar, both because I didn’t have sherry vinegar and because red wine vinegar appeared in the original recipe from Last Night’s Dinner. (The original also used lemon instead of lime juice, which I considered, but lime and cilantro are just so right together. However, I’m sure lemon is dandy too, and I’d definitely try it in a pinch.) I also left out the honey, because I don’t typically require sweetness in my dressings and because the original didn’t call for it. And although the recipe doesn’t ask you to, I did cook my corn, because I made the salad midweek but corn is always best the day that you buy it, so if I’m not using it right away I blanch it, cut it off the cob, and store it in a sealed container in the fridge. It’s easier to get off the cob that way, anyway—the kernels only fly about half as far across the counter once cooked. But if I were making this salad right after I’d bought the corn, I’d just use it raw.

My bunch of kale must have been on the small side because I ended up with too much dressing, which wasn’t a huge problem—kale can stand up to levels of flavor and moisture that would wilt more delicate greens—but did overpower the taste somewhat. I ended up having to serve the salad using a slotted spoon to drain away some of the excess dressing, so I’m going to suggest that you make the dressing in a smaller bowl and then pour it gradually over the kale, rather than adding the kale to the dressing. I’m looking out for you! Because really, I’d hate for anything to get in the way of you enjoying this fantastic salad. The tart dressing, bitter greens, salty cheese, and sweet corn and fruit made for an incredibly complex interplay of flavors, and the texture contrasts were no less thrilling—soft and juicy peaches, crisp corn, chewy kale, creamy cheese. Not to mention that it’s totally beautiful. I love discovering new combinations like this, but I know I’ll still love this one long after the novelty wears off.

¼ cup olive oil
Juice of 1 lime (can use a lemon instead)
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste
A dollop of honey (optional)
½ small red onion, sliced into thin half-moons
1 bunch kale (I like Tuscan), ribs removed, leaves torn into small pieces
About ½ bunch cilantro, coarsely chopped
2 ears of corn, kernels cut off the cob (you can cook the corn or not, whatever you like)
3 peaches, cut into slim wedges
About ¼ cup feta, crumbled

1. In a medium bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lime juice, vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste. Add a bit of honey if the dressing seems too tart. Add the onion, and let it sit for a few minutes to mellow.

2. In a large bowl, combine the kale and cilantro. Use a slotted spoon to scoop the onion slices out of the dressing and add them to the salad. Gradually add the dressing to the salad and toss to coat the kale well (kale usually takes more dressing than I expect, so taste as you go, but you may not use all the dressing). Let the mixture sit for 15 minutes to an hour so the kale can soften. Scatter the corn, peaches, and feta over the top.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 to 60 minutes
Leftover potential: Good; the kale will keep for days in the dressing without wilting, although you may want to leave the peaches out of the salad until you’re ready to eat it, just so they don’t get brown and mushy.

BLUEBERRY CORN SALAD

(I made the mistake of trying to use my new purple Fiestaware bowl for this photo, to match the berries. Huge mistake! It just looks sad and murky. Back to the white dishes after this.)

 I accidentally picked 9 pounds of blueberries singlehandedly this year, an all-time record—in previous outings, the most we’d ever brought home was 8 pounds between the two of us. Then, just to top it off, I picked 2 pounds of raspberries, a new addition to the farm’s offerings. I guess I panicked because A had to stay home sick, leaving me as the sole provider for all our berry-eating needs, plus the friend who accompanied me was such a champion picker (she gathered about twice as much as I did, in less time) that I lost all perspective regarding my own haul and dramatically overcompensated. Whatever, no problemo, we love berries… Except it turned out that A was too sick to eat anything but applesauce and saltines and chicken soup for the next week (he recovered eventually, thank goodness), and then he departed on a weeklong trip to Indiana, so I had to figure out how to cope with the massive quantities of fruit going gradually overripe in the fridge. I ate berries by the handful, and over yogurt and granola. I made berry buttermilk cake twice, once with raspberries and once with blueberries. I made frozen yogurt. I made jam. I made muffins (and put them in the freezer so that A wouldn’t miss out on the berries entirely). I made fruit salad. But the best thing that I made was a new discovery, this salad.

I didn’t even have to go looking for this recipe; it popped up in my feed reader via Two Peas & Their Pod a week or so before my great berry-picking expedition. It looked so pretty that I instantly bookmarked it, even though it sounded a little weird. Blueberries and corn isn’t that strange a combination if you think about it—blueberry corn muffins, right?—but blueberries and cucumber seems odder. Blueberries and cucumber and jalapeno and onion and cilantro seems odder still. But I’m sure I don’t even have to tell you that they are in fact incredibly delicious together. I was so grateful to have something to do with my blueberries that represented an actual savory meal, not breakfast or dessert. The sweetness of the berries was matched by the corn and the honey in the dressing, but the other ingredients balanced that out perfectly. The mild heat from the pepper and the cool crunch of the cucumber were especially welcome. I had no trouble polishing off all this salad singlehandedly, eating it as a main dish (occasionally with a quesadilla on the side) for four days in a row—especially easy compared to all the work it too me to pick all those berries in the first place.

The original Better Homes and Gardens recipe called for 6 ears of corn, which seemed like a lot to me; since I knew I wouldn’t be sharing it with a crowd (or, actually, anyone), I only used 4 ears, keeping all the other quantities the same. The proportions seemed perfect to me that way, so I’ll keep doing it in the future, unless maybe I’m making it to bring to a potluck or something. It would be the perfect thing to brighten a summer BBQ table, fresh and colorful and unique and surprising; plus, it keeps extremely well (and actually gets better after marinating), so you can make it a day in advance. Whatever the situation, I know this will become one of my summer standbys. All the blueberries I picked may be gone, but supermarket berries will work just fine—as long as the corn is in season, that is!

4 large ears fresh sweet corn, husked
1 cup fresh blueberries
1 cucumber, sliced (I used two medium Persian cucumbers)
¼ cup finely chopped red onion
¼–½ cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and finely chopped
2 tablespoons lime juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon honey
½ teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper

1. In a large pot, bring water to boiling. Add corn. Cook for 5 minutes, or until tender. When cool enough to handle, cut kernels from the cobs. Discard cobs.

2. In a large serving bowl, combine corn, blueberries, cucumber, red onion, cilantro, and jalapeno. To make the dressing, whisk together lime juice, oil, honey, cumin, salt, and pepper. Pour dressing over salad and stir until combined. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Good; keeps well in the fridge for at least five days.

ROASTED STRAWBERRY BUTTERMILK CAKE

Roasted strawberries! I had never heard of such a thing before, but of course it makes perfect sense. (More sense than strawberry pizza, anyway.) After a sojourn in the oven with sweetness-boosting syrup and savoriness-boosting oil and salt (I know it feels weird to be putting oil and salt on berries, but just roll with it), they break down into a magical, deeply concentrated, intoxicatingly perfumed, almost jammy concoction that’s then tossed in balsamic vinegar for a final flavorful coup de grace. Is there any food that can’t be improved by roasting? I don’t want to know the answer to that.

This recipe from Joy the Baker isn’t perfect, or at least my execution of it wasn’t, but it won me over nonetheless. The strawberries came out wonderfully, although given the volume of the cake I would be tempted to use even more of them next time; the result was more “cake with occasional strawberry” than “strawberry cake.” The cake itself doesn’t contain a lot of butter or sugar, which is great, but my batter turned out worrisomely thick and floury-tasting (I’m an inveterate batter-sampler and usually think it tastes even better than the cooked version, but this one was not very delicious). I’m fully willing to believe that I mismeasured the flour—I do remember being in a rush and resorting to the scooping method rather than the more accurate spoon-in-and-level—but it still made me nervous. When the cake had cooled I cut myself a slice and was underwhelmed. I loved the roasted strawberries, but overall the cake seemed too dense and blah. I stuck the rest of the cake in the fridge and went to bed, telling myself that I’d just have to roast strawberries and eat them in other ways (on yogurt? over ice cream?) while sticking with my favorite tender, moist, lemon-spiked berry buttermilk cake.

The next day, I tried another slice and…it was pretty good! I know that many foods are tastier the next day, but I don’t usually think of cake as one of them. While it still wasn’t ultra-flavorful, the cake now seemed like a worthy vehicle for the strawberries, and I suddenly liked it enough to revise my initial “not worth making again” judgment. Over the next couple of days, I even found myself savoring a slice for breakfast (with a wholesome side dish of yogurt), and I have never been a cake-for-breakfast eater, not even doughnuts or muffins or cinnamon rolls or other socially accepted cake-like foods. That should give you an idea of how not-very-sweet this cake is. I grew to like its not-sweetness, and even its sturdiness, which kept the berries from sinking to the bottom. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome, but by the time the cake was gone, I’d decided I would definitely make it again. Maybe even specifically for breakfast.

I made no changes to the recipe beyond using a few more strawberries (I’ll use even more next time, possibly even doubling the whole roasted-strawberry recipe), baking it in a 12-inch skillet instead of an 11-inch, because that’s what I’ve got (the cake still seemed plenty thick, regardless), and using granulated sugar on top because I didn’t have turbinado (it was fine, although I’m sure turbinado would add more crunch). I used vanilla but might try almond next time to see if it adds a more discernible flavor (or maybe I’ll use both). Next time, as I mentioned, I’ll measure my flour more carefully and err on the scant side. I’m also tempted to throw all the strawberries onto the cake before baking, instead of adding half then and half later, because that didn’t seem to make much difference in flavor or texture.

8 ounces (or more) medium strawberries, hulled
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pinch of salt + ½ teaspoon, divided
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
2½ cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ cup granulated sugar
½ teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1½ cups buttermilk
¼ cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract or ¼ teaspoon pure almond extract
3 tablespoons turbinado sugar (or just granulated sugar) for topping

1. Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. (The strawberries get juicy, so a rimmed baking sheet is important.)

2. In a large bowl, whisk together maple syrup, olive oil, and salt until completely incorporated. Cut each strawberry in half and place in the bowl. Toss well until each strawberry is coated. Arrange strawberries in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet.

3. Roast strawberries for 40 minutes. (The juices will thicken, but remove the strawberries from the oven before the juices begin to burn.) Remove the berries and juice from the pan while still warm. Place in a small bowl, stir in balsamic vinegar, and set aside.

4. Increase oven heat to 400 degrees. Butter an 11- or 12-inch cast-iron skillet. (You can also use an 11-inch round tart or quiche pan, or a 9×13-inch pan, although the cake will be thinner and you’ll need to keep a close eye on it in the oven.)

5. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.

6. In a small bowl, whisk together buttermilk, eggs, and butter. Whisk in the vanilla or almond extract.

7. Add the buttermilk mixture all at once to the dry ingredients. Stir until just combined and no lumps remain. Spoon batter into the prepared pan and top with half of the roasted strawberries and juice. Sprinkle generously with turbinado sugar.

8. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. (Keep a close eye on it so it doesn’t overcook and dry out.) Allow cake to cool to room temperature before slicing to serve. Serve with the remaining roasted strawberries on top.

Serves: About 8
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: OK; cake will last in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

ITALIAN MEATBALL SLIDERS WITH SPINACH-MOZZARELLA SALAD

Once I get interested in a food I can get a little obsessive about it (see: poached eggs, quinoa, feta, fritters), especially when it’s a seasonal fruit or vegetable (see: corn, asparagus, fennel, radishes) that won’t be available at its peak quality for long. This can lead to long stretches where we eat the same types of things at least once a week, sometimes for months on end. No matter how delicious those things are, I know the repetition can be a little wearying for anyone who doesn’t share my passion, so I like to keep a few simple comfort foods in my back pocket, things that can be made year-round and that A is always happy to see on the menu, thus softening the blow that we’re also having, say, kale salad for the third week in a row. Ideally, though, these comfort foods will still be fresh, wholesome, and not too indulgent. That’s a tall order, but luckily, this is the sort of thing Cooking Light excels at, which is why I keep renewing my subscription. Two summers ago, it brought us a now-favorite, BBQ pulled chicken sandwiches, and now it’s served up another slam dunk.

I’ve never been particularly interested in meatball sandwiches or sliders or making burger-type foods at home, so I’m not sure exactly what attracted me to this recipe beyond the fact that the photo was very colorful and appealing, and I suspected A that would enjoy it. I suppose my enjoyment of meatballs has been steadily increasing over the years, from lemony pork meatballs with noodles to Italian wedding soup, as I’ve realized that, never a big fan of slabs of uninterrupted meat, I’ll take these little spiced, seasoned bites over a steak any day. I knew that A, who can have a bird-like appetite at times, would appreciate the petite, nonoverhelming quality of the mini sandwiches, and I liked the fact that they looked easy to put together but didn’t resemble anything else in my recipe collection.

Folks, these are incredibly delicious! I was a bit weirded out when I stirred the ricotta into the ground meat—there was enough that the whole mixture turned white and creamy and gooey, which made it trickier to form the meatballs—but the cheese is the secret ingredient that keeps these relatively lean meatballs so tender and moist. For the sauce, I just used a can of Trader Joe’s tomato sauce, then spiced it up with 1 teaspoon each of dried oregano, dried basil, and balsamic vinegar, plus a pinch each of fennel seed and black pepper, after I added it to the skillet—basically a streamlined version of my pizza sauce. I didn’t see slider buns at any of my usual shopping sites, so I just bought some small buttermilk dinner rolls from a bakery at the farmers’ market and they worked perfectly. (In the future, I’d like to try making little versions of yogurt sandwich rolls for this purpose.) The resulting sandwiches are messy, but so crowd-pleasingly enjoyable. Just don’t leave off the fresh basil leaves, as I accidentally did the second time I made this. They’re not just a garnish; they add a welcome bright, grassy note.

Pondering what to serve alongside this, I figured I might as well go with the simple spinach salad that the magazine suggested as an accompaniment. It sounded a little dull to me, but I knew I wanted some color and vegetables on the plate, and I rarely say no to cheese. It turned out to be an excellent choice; it was easy to make and surprisingly complex-tasting, more than the sum of its parts. The spinach, mozzarella, red pepper, onion, and balsamic dressing completed the Italianate flavor profile so perfectly that I’d never bother serving the sliders without the salad, and for your convenience I’m just combining them into a single recipe below.

Confession: I did not toast my panko (too lazy; seemed unnecessary) or my buns (just noticed that instruction in the original recipe now) and nothing seemed amiss, so I’m marking those steps optional. I suppose toasting the bun might keep the sauce from making it soggy, but as long as you eat these promptly after assembling, I don't think sogginess should be a major problem.

3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
3 garlic cloves, minced
3 shallots, finely diced
1 cup thinly sliced red bell pepper
½ cup thinly sliced red onion
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
⅜ teaspoon salt, divided
¾ teaspoon black pepper, divided
6 tablespoons finely chopped fresh mozzarella
⅓ cup part-skim ricotta cheese
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
¼ cup panko, toasted if desired
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes
⅛ teaspoon salt
8 ounces lean ground pork
2 4-ounce links turkey or chicken Italian sausage, casings removed
1 large egg
1½ cups lower-sodium marinara sauce
6 cups baby spinach
12 slider buns (or small dinner rolls, split in half horizontally), toasted if desired
12 large basil leaves

1. Heat 1 teaspoon oil in a large skillet over medium heat; swirl to coat. Add garlic and shallots to pan; sauté 3 minutes or until shallots are softened, stirring frequently. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.

2. While the shallots are cooling, combine red bell pepper, red onion, 2 tablespoons olive oil, 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar, ¼ teaspoon salt, ¼ teaspoon black pepper, and mozzarella in a large bowl; let stand while preparing the rest of the meal.

3. Combine the ricotta, parsley, panko, ½ teaspoon black pepper, red pepper flakes, ⅛ teaspoon salt, ground pork, Italian sausage, and egg with the shallot mixture in a large bowl. Mix well with your hands, then shape mixture into 12 (approximately 1-inch) meatballs; flatten each meatball slightly.

4. Return pan to medium-high heat. Add remaining 2 teaspoons oil to pan. Add meatballs to pan; cook 6 minutes, turning once. Add marinara sauce; bring to a boil, scraping pan to loosen browned bits. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 8 minutes or until meatballs are done.

5. Add baby spinach to the red pepper mixture and toss well.

6. Top the bottom half of each bun with 1½ tablespoons marinara sauce, 1 meatball, 1 basil leaf, and top half of bun. Serve with spinach salad on the side.

Serves: 6 (2 sliders and about 1 cup of salad each)
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Good, if you store the salad and sliders unassembled. For the salad, store the red pepper mixture separately from the spinach, store both elements in the refrigerator, and combine just before eating. For the sliders, store the meatballs with their sauce separately from the buns, store the meatballs in the refrigerator and the buns at room temperature (or in the freezer), then reheat the meatballs in the microwave (you can also microwave the buns to thaw them, or just briefly to soften them if they are a bit dry), and put them on the buns just before eating. You can either put the basil on top of the meatballs before you store them (it will discolor a bit but will taste just fine), or add it freshly when it’s time to eat.

ORZO SALAD WITH SPINACH, FETA, AND LEMON

Clearly, even though I keep telling myself I’m not in the market for any more pasta recipes, I am still powerless to resist certain ingredients, and feta and lemon are definitely on the list. This is basically a spring/summer version of one of my favorites, orzo with chicken, lemon, and dill—similar core elements, but cool and refreshing instead of hot and melty, brightened up with lots of green vegetables.

My mouse hand crept relentlessly toward the “Save on Delicious” button as soon as I spotted this Dinner With Julie post in my feed reader. I paused only to think, “Could I add even more green things to this concoction?” After a quick Food Blog Search session, the answer was clear (thanks to this Two Peas and Their Pod recipe): asparagus. That was the only change I made to the original, except that I increased the orzo quantity to use the whole package, and skipped the rice vinegar (which I don’t have) in favor of more lemon juice.

All quantities are pretty much up to you here. I’m not exactly sure how much spinach I used, but I remember thinking there could be more of it; I loved the way its crisp, springy texture contrasted with the softer ones of the pasta and cheese—even after the salad spent several days in the fridge, it magically didn’t seem to get wilted or slimy—and I ended up adding even more of it to the leftovers, until it felt like half pasta and half greens. So I’m guessing at 6 ounces; use whatever seems right to you. Same with the onion; a little raw onion can go a long way, of course, but its crunch and bite are welcome here. And let’s face it, I probably had a heavier hand with the feta. I liked the asparagus, but you could leave it out (and, if you’re making the pasta more than a few hours ahead of serving, you may want to, because asparagus is quicker to discolor when subjected to acid and age). Whatever you do, this is a fresh, incredibly quick and easy, light but satisfying salad that would make a perfect entrée on a hot day or an excellent addition to a picnic, BBQ, or potluck menu.

This is one of those basic discoveries that gets me really excited. Sometimes I glance at a recipe and wonder if it’s really worth my trying, even though it looks tasty, because it seems so simple and overlaps so many other recipes I’ve made before. Because I tend to gravitate toward certain ingredients, I’ve tried a lot of different combinations of them over the years. I try to resist letting my recipe collection balloon out of control; my ideal has always been to have a streamlined, well-curated list of favorites, but of course thanks to the number of food blogs I read and my own need for variety in writing this one, my virtual recipe box is always bulging. I tend to forget the fact (or maybe I just fear it, and the boundless options it represents) that ingredients can be combined in many different ways, and just a small variation can yield brand-new flavors, colors, and textures. In other words, even though this salad didn’t seem surprising or revolutionary to me at first glance (it’s no strawberry pizza, for example), I enjoyed it so enormously that it instantly won a spot in my regular rotation.

1 pound orzo
½ pound asparagus (optional), tough ends trimmed off, sliced into 1-inch pieces
6 ounces fresh spinach, thinly sliced
1 small red onion, finely chopped
4 ounces crumbled feta
Grated zest and juice of 1–2 lemons
2–3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Cook the orzo according to the package directions; drain well, running under cool water to cool it down, then dump into a bowl.

2. If using asparagus, steam until crisp-tender. Run under cold water to stop cooking, then add to the bowl with the orzo.

3. Add the spinach, onion, feta, and lemon zest to the orzo.

4. In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle over the orzo mixture and toss well to coat.

Serves: 6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Great. Will keep in the fridge for up to a week.

STRAWBERRY PIZZA

Strawberry pizza, what what what? And not some wimpy dessert pizza, either. I’ll put just about anything on a pizza, including apples and pears, so technically strawberries aren’t so much of a stretch. But strawberries with onions, bacon, chicken, and cheese? Not to mention a sauce of strawberry jam, balsamic vinegar, and Sriracha? I like all those things, and even some of them in pairs (strawberries + balsamic, bacon + anything), but let’s face it, as an assemblage it sounds bizarre. I was half-intrigued, half-weirded out when this recipe popped up in my feed reader. It was from Annie’s Eats, however, a site that’s never steered me wrong, and if Annie acknowledged that the combination seemed strange yet tasted wonderful, I figured I should trust her. Plus, whether it turns out well or poorly, unusual food always makes good blog fodder.

Luckily, this is one of those ingredient lists that makes complete sense when you taste it. I did still find the sauce a bit unnervingly sweet for an entrée, but it’s well balanced by the tartness of the vinegar, the spiciness of the Sriracha, the smokiness of the bacon, and the savoriness of the chicken, onion, and cheeses. Unfortunately, I’d thrown away my cilantro earlier in the week in a fit of carelessness (after using half the bunch for a different dish, I carefully thought through the remainder of my upcoming meals and concluded there was nothing else I needed it for, completely forgetting it was yet another element of this unpredictable pizza mélange), so I was forced to make do with a mixture of basil and mint. Both of those herbs seem to be more frequently paired with strawberries, so perhaps it’s understandable that the cilantro slipped my mind, but I think the cilantro might have worked better here—my replacements were OK, but the mint, in particular, struck me as too reminiscent of dessert. Other than that, everything was perfect, and the finished dish reminded me surprisingly strongly of BBQ chicken pizza. Despite his initial skepticism, A particularly liked it (I believe the word he used was “awesome”), so soon strawberry pizza will seem totally normal at our house. And, as a bonus, it’s a great way to use up my omnipresent stash of homemade jam!

¼ cup balsamic vinegar
½ cup good-quality strawberry jam
1 teaspoon Sriracha
1 pound pizza dough
1 cup shredded or diced cooked chicken
4 slices bacon, diced and cooked until crisp
½ cup thinly sliced yellow onion
4 ounces shredded mozzarella cheese
2 ounces freshly grated Parmesan cheese
2–3 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro
½ cup hulled strawberries, diced

1. Place the balsamic vinegar in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and let cook 4 to 5 minutes or until reduced by about half with a thick, syrupy texture. Remove from heat and pour into a small bowl. Add the strawberry jam and Sriracha, stir well, and set aside.

2. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

3. Roll out the pizza dough and place on a baking sheet or pizza stone. Spread the balsamic-strawberry mixture in a thin layer over the crust. Layer with the chicken, bacon, onion, cheeses, cilantro, and strawberries.

4. Bake pizza until the cheese is melted and bubbling and the crust is lightly browned, about 11 to 12 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly before slicing and serving.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

ENFRIJOLADAS

I used to hate corn tortillas. I can only attribute this to having grown up in the Midwest, because ever since I moved to Southern California, I’ve gradually grown to love them, which I assume is I because I’ve finally been exposed to fresh, handmade, tender tortillas instead of the dry, mealy ones of my memories. (I don’t mean to malign the Midwest; Minnesota actually has a large Mexican population and you can get excellent tortillas there now, but if they existed in the 1980s and 1990s, I didn’t encounter them or was too picky to try them.) I still don’t really bother with average mass-produced corn tortillas, but every now and then I make a pilgrimage to my favorite Mexican grocery for a warm stack of their housemade ones. The only problem is that the smallest package of these still contains dozens of tortillas (I’ve never counted, but I’d say at least 48), and with no preservatives in them, they only stay moist, soft, and taco-worthy for a few days. Granted, this heap of tortillas sets me back less than $2, but I hate to see them go to waste. The less-fresh ones are great for making quesadillas or tostadas or baking into chips to dip in salsa, and of course they’re delicious in soup, but even after all that I can still find myself with leftovers, so I’ve been on the lookout for other ideas.

When I spotted a recipe for enfrijoladas—basically, enchiladas made with a bean sauce instead of tomato sauce—at Tasty Kitchen, it seemed like the perfect solution. But at second glance, I was a bit put off by the fact that the sauce was made out of canned refried beans, thinned with broth. (Nothing especially wrong with canned refried beans, mind you, but I’m a recent convert to bean-loving, and in my bean-hating days, refried beans grossed me out the most.) Wouldn’t it make more sense to puree freshly cooked dry beans, or even canned beans, in their liquid? I hit the Internet to find out, and after a lot of searching I found what I was looking for at Pati’s Mexican Table: a series of recipes for frijolas de olla (cooked beans), pureed beans, frijoles colados (refried pureed beans), and finally enfrijoladas. Pati’s enfrijoladas were simpler and more authentic, with no cheese filling, no baking, and no toppings beyond queso fresco, avocado, and crema—lovely, I’m sure, but I liked the idea of filling and baking them and making some sort of salsa-like toppings, so I combined Pati’s many recipes for the bean mixture with the Tasty Kitchen method, then improvised my own topping out of various fresh southwesternish vegetables.

I feel a bit sheepish posting this here because I don’t think I’ve perfected it yet, but if I don’t get it written down I’m afraid I’ll forget it entirely. And my enfrijoladas were very good, even though I think my bean mixture was still a bit too thick overall and I probably used a bit too much of it (after the first few tortillas tore I thinned it further, but the end result was still on the clumpy, casserole-ish side, with the enfrijoladas completely breaking down when I tried to get them out of the pan). Luckily, they were so delicious that I didn’t really care what they looked like, and the colorful topping helped to mask my aesthetic sins. This may seem like a lot of work to go through for what is basically an inside-out bean and cheese enchilada, but none of the steps were especially hard and I think the end result was worth it.

You could basically put whatever you want inside these; plain cheese was sufficient for me, but to ease A’s suspicions about such a bean-heavy dish, I threw in a little cooked chicken from my stash in the freezer, and it did add some texture. You could also put whatever you want on top, but I must say I was very pleased with my version.

P.S. I really recommend refrying your beans in bacon fat. It adds a wonderful smoky flavor that makes all the difference, in my opinion.

1 pound dry pinto or black beans
1 large yellow or white onion, peeled and halved
1 tablespoon kosher or sea salt, plus more to taste
2–3 tablespoons canola oil or bacon fat
12–16 corn tortillas (you may want to have extras on hand in case some of them tear)
2 to 3 cups grated pepper Jack cheese
1 to 2 cups cooked cubed or shredded chicken (optional)
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
Cooked kernels from 1 ear of corn
2–4 green onions, sliced
Chopped cilantro to taste
Several radishes, sliced (optional)
1 ripe avocado, peeled and diced
Juice of 1 large lime

1. Rinse the beans in cold water and drain. Place them in a large, heavy pot and cover with about 10 cups of water, or enough water to come up to at least 3 inches above the top of the beans. Add half of the onion (just the entire piece, no need to cut it up). Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and let simmer, partially covered, for about 1½ hours, or cover pot entirely and transfer to a preheated 250-degree oven for 75 to 90 minutes. When the beans are tender, add 1 tablespoon salt. Let them continue simmering for about another 15 minutes, or until the beans are so soft that they come apart if you hold one between your fingers. If the beans are not yet soft and the pot is drying out, add more water. When the beans are cooked, remove the onion with a slotted spoon and discard.

2. Drain the beans, reserving the liquid. Place the beans and 2 cups of the cooking liquid in a blender or food processor and puree until smooth.

3. Heat a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the oil or bacon fat and heat until hot but not smoking, about 1 to 2 minutes. Dice the other half of the onion, add it to the pan, and sauté for 3 to 4 minutes, until it is softened and translucent, and has started to slightly brown along the edges. Add the pureed beans a cupful at a time over the sautéed onion, and let the mixture season for 3 to 4 minutes.

4. Reduce heat to low. Gradually add more bean cooking liquid (you can also use chicken or vegetable broth) to thin the bean mixture to a soupy/saucelike consistency. For me, this was at least 2 cups, and I probably could have used more, but your mileage may vary—just experiment until you find the right consistency. If the sauce is too thick, the tortillas will tear when you dunk them in and try to lift them out again; if that happens, just add more liquid and try again with a new tortilla. (The torn bean-soaked tortillas make a good snack for the cook.) Season sauce with salt to taste. I also stirred in a little bit of salsa for additional flavor; I might do more of that next time.

5. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

6. Heat your tortillas in the microwave until soft and pliable (or heat them briefly on a hot skillet on the stove). One by one, dip them into the bean mixture so that the tortilla is coated on both sides. Lay the tortilla in a 13-by-9-inch glass baking dish. Sprinkle a couple of tablespoons of grated cheese on one half of the tortilla and top with a little chicken, if desired. Fold the tortilla in half to cover the filling. Repeat with remaining tortillas until dish is full. Pour some of the remaining bean sauce over the tortillas in the baking dish (just do this to your taste; you don’t want to drown them, so you might not use it all—I probably could have used a little less). Sprinkle with remaining grated cheese, to taste.

7. Bake for about 10 or 15 minutes, or until the cheese has melted.

8. Meanwhile, mix together tomatoes, corn, green onions, cilantro, radishes (if desired), and avocado in a medium bowl. Add the lime juice and salt to taste, and toss well.

9. Serve the enfrijoladas topped with the tomato mixture.

Serves: 4–8
Time: 3 hours
Leftover potential: Good, but store topping separately.

STRAWBERRY AND ASPARAGUS SALAD

Asparagus + strawberries + mint + lemon = spring in a bowl. Add feta and spinach and you can’t hold me back. I might never have thought to combine these exact ingredients before stumbling across this salad from Bev Cooks on the magical Interwebs, but of course they go together brilliantly. (I’ve already combined strawberries and avocado, so why not strawberries and asparagus?) I doubled the recipe to serve four (as a side), swapped the feta in for goat cheese (not my fave), and upped the lemon juice ratio in the dressing (I like mine acidic). I used salted pepitas because I happened to have some on hand, and I did like them against the sweetness of the strawberries, but I think a lot of other options would work well here, too—pecans, sunflowers seeds, almonds, or even walnuts. The lemon-mint dressing was particularly nice; I had contemplated trying some sort of balsamic dressing instead, worried about the mint being too overpowering and weird, but it was subtle, just enough to add a crisp and refreshing aftertaste, and kept this salad on the delicate side, which is perfect for spring. I ate some leftover dressing on plain spinach later in the week and it was so good on its own that I started envisioning using it on other fruit-with-greens salads throughout the summer (I bet it would be nice with blueberries or peaches).

1 bunch (about ½ pound or less) asparagus, ends trimmed, stalks sliced into 2-inch pieces
10 mint leaves
5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
About 3 cups baby spinach
About 1 cup strawberries, rinsed and thinly sliced
¼ cup pepitas, toasted
¼ cup crumbled feta or goat cheese

1. Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Add the asparagus and cook until bright green and crisp-tender, about 2 minutes. Drain and cool in an ice bath or under cold running water. Pat dry.

2. Using a mini food processor or an immersion blender, combine the mint leaves with the oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste.

3. Arrange the spinach in a bowl or on a plate. Top with sliced strawberries, blanched asparagus, toasted pepitas, crumbled cheese, and a good drizzle of the lemon-mint dressing.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: OK, but you should store the components separately and assemble them only when ready to eat.

AGUADITO

If you’re one of those poor afflicted people who think cilantro tastes like soap (I’m so glad I didn’t inherit that gene from my dad), I’m telling you right now that you can go ahead and skip this recipe. This version of the traditional Peruvian chicken soup has a pungent puree of cilantro, Serrano pepper, and garlic stirred right into the broth, lending it a bright green color and wonderfully fresh flavor, especially when finished with plenty of lime juice. It’s basically cilantro soup, and I love it.

I only made a few changes to the original recipe from A Cozy Kitchen. I don’t really like rice, so I swapped in quinoa instead, figuring it has a similar cooking time, and hey, it’s Peruvian too. I like the subtle texture quinoa adds to soups, and this one was no exception. I also pulled the chicken off the bone before serving, because it seemed incredibly awkward to have to deal with a whole piece of chicken while I was trying to slurp down my soup. Next time I might just skip using bone-in pieces entirely; it does certainly maximize the chicken taste, but it also adds a lot of grease—my finished soup was a bit oilier than I like, although granted, I didn’t help things by using entirely dark meat—and I didn’t enjoy the splattery step of browning the chicken in hot oil. My homemade chicken stock is already really flavorful (and no matter how much I try to skim it after it’s cooled, it still probably has more fat than the storebought stuff), and when I’ve used whole pieces of chicken to make it (rather than just a leftover carcass), I pull the meat off the bones afterwards and stash it in my freezer, so I could easily dump that reserved shredded chicken into the soup instead of dealing with whole pieces (another option would be to use meat from a roasted or rotisserie chicken). I think that would simplify the process and keep the fat in check without sacrificing much depth of flavor.

Regardless of how you make it, this soup would be a great way to brighten up the cold winter months (especially when you’re sick—it has the same comforting, restorative quality that homemade chicken noodle soup does, but with a welcome extra zestiness), but with its cilantro, corn, and lime, it also bridges the gap from spring to summer admirably.

¾ cup cilantro leaves, plus extra for garnish
1 Serrano pepper, halved and de-seeded
4 garlic cloves, divided
4¼ cups chicken broth, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 to 1½ pounds skin-on, bone-in chicken (I used drumsticks)
1 small yellow onion, diced
1 small red bell pepper, diced
½ teaspoon ground cumin
¼ cup quinoa or white rice
1 ear of corn
Salt to taste
1 large lime

1. Add cilantro leaves, serrano pepper, 2 garlic cloves (peeled but whole), and ¼ cup chicken broth to a blender (or an immersion blender cup). Blend until mixture is thoroughly combined. Set aside.

2. In a large, heavy pot, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. When it’s hot, carefully add chicken, skin side down. Cook for 4 to 5 minutes, until skin is crisp and slightly browned. Flip over and cook for an additional 5 minutes. Remove chicken from pot and set aside.

3. To the pot with the chicken drippings, add onion and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add bell peppers and cumin and cook for 1 to 2 more minutes. Mince the other two garlic cloves, place them atop the mixture in the pot, and cook until fragrant.

4. Add the quinoa/rice and the cilantro mixture to the pot and stir, being sure to completely coat the quinoa/rice. Gently add the chicken back to the pot and cover with the remaining 4 cups of chicken broth. (The broth should just cover the chicken; if it doesn’t, add a little more broth, or a bit of water). Cook for 20 to 30 minutes, until quinoa/rice is fully cooked.

5. If desired, remove the chicken from the soup, tear the meat from the bones, shred the meat, and return it to the soup, discarding the bones and skin. (I find it much easier to eat this way.)

6. Cut kernels from corn cob and mix them into the soup a few minutes before you take it off the stove. When you’re ready to serve, add salt to taste. (This will depend on how salty your chicken broth was; mine was homemade and salt-free, so I started with 1 teaspoon of kosher salt.)

7. Squeeze the lime into the soup and garnish with cilantro to taste.

Serves: 4–5
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Good.

ORANGE CURRY ALMONDS

As threatened—er, promised—I reworked the magical roasted nut recipe yet again, just to cover all my citrus bases. (I’m ignoring grapefruit here, as I do in all areas of my life.) I think it’s a really good flavor combo. I used Trader Joe’s curry powder, my favorite storebought variety, which has a nice, bright citrusy/floral taste that I correctly suspected would marry well with the orange. (I think I was inspired by these cookies...which now makes me wonder if I could get coconut in here too, somehow.) There’s a little heat to these, but mostly just a deep, savory spice that makes them seem richer and substantial than the other two varieties I’ve made—or maybe it’s just that almonds fill me up more quickly than other nuts. Whereas I could demolish handfuls of the chili lime peanuts or lemon pepper cashews if I wasn’t careful, I’m full and satisfied after a dozen or so of these almonds. Whether for that reason or just because I prefer lemon and lime to orange, these have lingered longer in my kitchen than the other two kinds I’ve made, and I do think I’d name them my least favorite of the three. (They also, for some reason, seem to be on the verge of oversaltiness, even though I used the same amount of salt as in the other two recipes, which struck me as being just the right amount. I might cut back on the salt next time—or perhaps I just measured poorly this time?) But that’s mainly because the first two were so very kickass. I’m still pleased to have “invented” these and I do consider them a successful snack: addictively crisp, excitingly tasty, fairly wholesome, and not like anything I’ve ever seen in a store. For someone who rarely improvises, I feel like I’m on a roll lately!

Freshly grated zest of 1 large orange
¼ cup freshly squeezed orange juice
1 tablespoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons sugar
4–5 teaspoons curry powder
1 pound unsalted almonds

1. Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

2. Whisk orange zest, orange juice, salt, sugar, and curry powder together in a large bowl. Add almonds and stir until evenly coated.

3. Scrape nuts onto a large, rimmed baking sheet (line with parchment if desired, for ease in cleanup). Bake until nuts are fragrant, dry, and beginning to darken, about 30 minutes.

Serves: About 16
Time: 40 minutes
Leftover potential: Good; will keep in an airtight container at room temperature for at least two weeks

POTATO-LEEK PIZZA WITH RICOTTA AND LEMON

Yeah, I already have a potato-leek pizza recipe—but this one has ricotta and lemon zest and tastes like springtime. The Kitchn calls it a “flatbread,” but I know a pizza when I see one. And this one is fab.

I was a bit worried about getting the potato sliced thinly enough to cook through, since I don’t have a mandoline. (Microsoft Word really wants to change this to “mandolin.” Well, I don’t have one of those, either.) Soaking the potato slices in cold water seemed odd to me; I’ve seen this mentioned in some French fry recipes (I think it draws off the excess starch) but have never tried it before, and was kind of worried by how stiff and curled they were when I pulled them out of their bath—I feared I’d soaked them too long and ruined them, but now after some Internet research I see that you can soak potatoes for hours without damage. And whether it was the water or my careful slicing skills, it worked, and the potatoes got nice and tender. I really love the flavors here—just don’t leave off the lemon zest (as I almost accidentally did when I was eating the leftovers), because it’s what makes this pizza special!

2 large leeks
1 large red-skinned waxy potato
Olive oil to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
1 to 2 cups ricotta cheese
Leaves from 4 sprigs thyme
1 pound pizza dough

1 cup shredded Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese (I believe I threw in some Asiago and that was good, too)
Zest from two large lemons

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

2. Trim the roots off the leeks and then slice each leek (white and light green parts only) into very thin rounds. Place the slices in a large bowl and fill with water. Toss the leeks with your fingers, separating the individual rings. Set aside for a few minutes to allow the dirt to settle to the bottom.

3. Slice the potato into thin rounds about ⅛ inch thick. Place slices in a bowl of cool water and set aside.

4. Set a saucepan over medium heat and add about a teaspoon of oil. Transfer the leeks to the saucepan using a slotted spoon and cook until they are bright green and wilted. Season with salt and pepper to taste and set aside.

5. Roll out the dough on a baking sheet and spread with ricotta cheese. Scatter the thyme over the cheese. Arrange the potato slices in overlapping layers and top with leeks. Sprinkle the cheese evenly over the top.

6. Bake for about 15 to 18 minutes, rotating once, until the edges are golden, the leeks have started to crisp, and the potatoes are tender. Remove from the oven and toss the lemon zest over the surface of the hot pizza.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

GARLIC NAAN

Of course I needed some naan to go with my chicken tikka masala. I hear Trader Joe’s makes a pretty decent frozen one, but I do enjoy baking bread from time to time, and it’s pretty convenient to do on my telecommuting days—knead the dough during my lunch break, let it rise while I work, punch it down right after work and let the second rise happen while I do miscellaneous pre-dinner tasks, then bake while I’m cooking. Posie Gets Cozy, the same site that turned me on to the tikka masala, mentioned an Allrecipes naan recipe as well, but it called for ¼ cup sugar, which seemed way too sweet, so I turned to trusty Food Blog Search instead. It turns out there are a dizzyingly diverse bunch of ways to make naan. It can be leavened with yeast, or just with baking soda; it can be cooked on a grill, on a stovetop, or in the oven; and so on. I quickly grew exhausted from combing through all the variations, so I settled semi-blindly upon this one from Use Real Butter, mainly because it had garlic, it used yeast (baking-soda breads, while simpler, never taste quite as good to me), it included yogurt (yum), it didn’t have weird-looking amounts of sugar or anything else, and it offered instructions for a several different cooking methods, plus lots of helpful photos for guidance.

This turned out to be a wise choice. The dough came together well (I used my KitchenAid mixer, and I think it’s the first time I’ve really gotten good results using the dough hook), was easy to work with, and baked up just as promised, with big bubbles, nice char marks, and a tender, springy-chewy texture. I used my cast-iron skillet on the stovetop and it did the trick just fine. I’d heard the cooking surface should be really hot, so I started at medium-high heat, but the first naan I cooked crossed the line too rapidly from alluringly blistered to fairly blackened, so I turned the stove down to medium to get nonburnt bread. However, I crammed that singed naan into my mouth while cooking the other seven breads, and it was insanely delicious. Maybe it was just that I was so hungry, but mostly likely the bread is best eaten right off the skillet; by the time we sat down to eat the other ones with dinner, they’d cooled to room temperature and even though they still tasted great, they just didn’t seem quite as incredible as that first one. So I’m going to recommend that you serve these as freshly cooked as you can, although the leftover ones are certainly beyond passable. (Or is this just a demonstration of Ramona Quimby’s principle that the first bite of the apple always tastes the best?)

The bread had a mild, not overpowering garlic flavor; I didn’t bother with adding chopped garlic to the top of the cooked naan, figuring that it would just fall off annoyingly into my tikka masala as I dipped it. I didn’t think I’d brush the breads with melted butter either, but I tried it with a few and it did give them a much more photogenic glossy finish and appealing moistness—as well as, of course, a nice buttery taste—so I think it’s worth it but not crucial (unless you want to sprinkle garlic, herbs, or anything else on top, in which case it will provide the necessary adhesion).

Even though I’m not quite sure I’d declare these as good as the restaurant naans I’ve eaten, it was a close enough approximation that I was beamingly pleased with myself. It was fun to make, too, especially watching each one bubble and puff on the skillet. I’ll definitely be making this again, not only with chicken tikka masala and any further Indian dishes I might now be emboldened to try, but with soups like curried lentil and curried coconut carrot.

2½ teaspoons dry yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
4½ to 5 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting and rolling
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 cloves garlic, crushed and minced
3 tablespoons milk
2 tablespoons plain Greek yogurt
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus a little more for oiling the bowl
Unsalted butter to taste
2 cloves garlic, minced, for sprinkling on top if desired

1. Place the sugar, yeast, and ¼ cup warm water (110 to 115 degrees Fahrenheit) in a small bowl, stir, and let sit 5 to 10 minutes until it becomes foamy.

2. Put the flour, salt, and baking powder in a food processor fitted with a dough blade or a mixer bowl fitted with the dough hook and blend. Pour the yeast mixture, garlic, milk, yogurt, egg, 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, and ¾ cup warm water into the bowl and knead until the dough forms a ball that is smooth and elastic (about 2–3 minutes in a processor, 5–8 minutes in a stand mixer, or 8–10 minutes by hand). The dough should be soft without being sticky; if it’s sticky, add more flour.

3. Put the dough in a large, lightly oiled bowl. Turn the dough around to coat it with oil on all sides, and then cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a kitchen towel and let it sit in a warm, draft-free place for 60 to 90 minutes.

4. Punch down the dough and cut it into 8 pieces. Roll them into balls and set on a floured baking sheet. Cover with a damp kitchen towel and let rise until doubled in size (about 40 to 60 minutes).

5. Roll the dough balls out on a floured work surface to make disks about 6 inches in diameter, then stretch it slightly to make the classic oblong/teardrop shape.

6. Heat a large skillet over medium or medium-high heat. Melt a little butter in the hot skillet. Brush the first naan with water and place it in the skillet water side down. Large bubbles should begin to puff up within a minute. When the bottom of the naan is browned, brush the top of the naan with water, flip it over, and let it cook for another minute or so, until that side is browned. Remove to a basket or plate and, if desired, brush with melted butter and sprinkle with more minced garlic. Repeat seven more times.

Yields: 8 naan
Time: About 2½ to 3 hours
Leftover potential: The naan seemed best when freshly made, but it was OK the next day (when stored in a tightly sealed plastic bag and warmed briefly in the microwave). I have two pieces in the freezer but haven’t tried defrosting them yet.