CHICKEN IN RIESLING

RIP, Gourmet magazine. I never subscribed (and thus, I suppose, could be considered complicit in your downfall), but you had consistently great food writing, and a quick search of my blog reveals that the few recipes of yours I’ve tried are among my favorites. Now I’m adding this one to the list.

I originally spotted this, in a modified version, at Everybody Likes Sandwiches, where it was described as “the best single meal I've ever ever ever cooked in my life.” How could I not give that a try, immediately? The original version on Epicurious looked more to my taste, so I added it to my menu for Sunday night. A cozy, hearty, French peasant-style braise of chicken and root vegetables in wine and cream seemed a perfect way to welcome November and the return of 5:00 sunsets. Of course, it ended up being over 90 degrees in Pasadena, but this was still a delicious dinner—luckily, it was originally intended for the spring, so it’s not too rich and heavy. This is the kind of recipe that makes me feel really impressed with myself, even if all I did was follow directions. It’s so simple (I was a little afraid it would be bland, since there are barely even any herbs in it), but the ingredients are transformed into something sophisticated and surprising, probably because they're bathed in a chickeny, tangy, creamy sauce that will have you licking the plate (next time, I might make a few more potatoes or maybe serve some bread, the better to soak up more sauce).

The recipe may be a little too time-consuming for a weeknight, but I didn’t feel like I was stuck slaving in the kitchen, and we ate at a timely hour. I followed the directions exactly and everything went smoothly. My Riesling wasn’t Alsatian (Trader Joe’s only had two Rieslings, a $2.99 one from California and a $6.99 one from Washington, so I went with the Washington), and I’m not even sure how dry it was (I took a sip and it was tart and fruity), but I don’t think it mattered; I really loved the taste of the finished sauce. Gourmet says you can use crème fraiche or heavy cream, but for me there’s no choice—crème fraiche has so much more character and works so well in sauces, since it never separates (the reheated leftovers were still perfectly creamy the next day), I strongly recommend it if you can get it (and if you can’t find it at the store, make your own!). I had a bit of a revelation when reading about the French-style cut chicken; I always complain that the bone-in chicken breasts that come in the packages of whole cut-up chicken at Trader Joe’s are impossibly massive (especially since white meat is not my favorite), but it had never occurred to me that I could simply cut them in half crosswise into more manageable portions. This time I gave it a try, and wouldn’t you know it, two hacks with a cleaver through the ribs and I had four neat, modest pieces! I’ll definitely be doing that for other bone-in chicken recipes from now on.

1 whole chicken (about 3½ pounds), backbone discarded and chicken cut French style into 8 pieces (2 breast halves with wings attached, halved crosswise for a total of 4 breast pieces; 2 drumsticks; and 2 thighs), or 3 pounds pre-cut chicken parts (bone-in, with skin).
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
4 medium leeks (white and pale green parts only), finely chopped (2 cups)
2 tablespoons finely chopped shallot
4 thin medium carrots, halved diagonally
1 cup dry white wine (preferably Alsatian Riesling)
1½ pounds small (2-inch) red potatoes (I could only find larger ones, so I halved them)
2 tablespoons finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
½ cup crème fraîche
Fresh lemon juice to taste (I used the juice of 1 lemon)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Pat chicken dry and sprinkle with 1 teaspoon salt and a rounded ¾ teaspoon pepper. Heat oil with 1 tablespoon butter in a wide 3½-to-5-quart heavy ovenproof pot (I used my Dutch oven) over medium-high heat until foam subsides, then brown chicken in 2 batches, turning once, about 10 minutes total per batch. Transfer to a plate.

3. Pour off fat from pot, then cook leeks, shallot, and ¼ teaspoon salt in remaining 2 tablespoons butter, covered, over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until leeks are pale golden, 5 to 7 minutes. Add chicken, skin sides up, with any juices from plate, carrots, and wine and boil until liquid is reduced by half, 3 to 4 minutes. Cover pot and braise chicken in oven until cooked through, 20 to 25 minutes.

4. While chicken braises, peel potatoes, then generously cover with cold water in a 2-to-3-quart saucepan and add 1½ teaspoons salt. Bring to a boil, then simmer until potatoes are just tender, about 15 minutes. Drain in a colander, then return to saucepan. Add parsley and shake to coat.

5. Remove chicken mixture from oven, stir in crème fraîche, and season with salt, pepper, and lemon juice, then add potatoes.

Serves: 4
Time: 2 hours
Leftover potential: Good.

BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP WITH PEAR, CIDER, AND VANILLA BEAN

I already have a satisfactory butternut squash soup recipe, as well as two dissatisfactory ones, so I wasn’t really in the market for another. It’s impossible, however, to read Molly Wizenberg’s A Homemade Life without wanting to make this recipe (originally featured on her blog, Orangette, and published at Seattlest)—at least, if you’re a sucker for vanilla the way I am. I’ve had it filed away all spring and summer, just waiting for squash, pear, and cider season to roll around, and I’m happy to say it was worth the long wait. This soup is more labor-intensive than my usual one, and less savory, as well as being considerably more expensive (at least until I find a source for discount vanilla beans), but it’s also rich, complex, unusual, and utterly delicious. I was wary that with all that fruit and squash and vanilla, its flavor might veer into the realm of overwhelmingly sweet, but as long as you make sure to salt it sufficiently, it escapes dessertiness. And if in doubt, pair it with something salty to balance everything out. The first time around, I dipped in slices of the best garlic bread ever, which created an amazing contrast between flavors; for the leftover soup, a grilled-cheese sandwich made from sharp aged cheddar and onion rye bread proved a worthy accompaniment.

I won’t be dumping my former favorite butternut squash soup for this one. But my simple, everyday standby is gaining a more sophisticated, decadent, special-occasion cousin, perfect for dinner parties, Sunday suppers, and feasts welcoming fall.

3 tablespoons olive oil
2 pounds butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1-inch pieces (4 generous cups)
2 firm-ripe pears, peeled, cored, and cut into 1-inch pieces (about 2 cups)
1 medium yellow onion, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 cup apple cider
4 cups good-quality chicken broth
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup half-and-half
1 vanilla bean, about 7 inches long
Fresh chives, finely chopped

1. Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or stockpot over medium-low heat. Add the squash, pears, and onion, stir to coat with oil, and cook, uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 10 to 15 minutes, until the onion is soft and transparent and the pears are starting to fall apart.

2. Add the cider, and bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat. Add the broth, reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer the mixture, partially covered, for about 30 minutes, until the squash is tender.

3. Working in batches, carefully puree the mixture in a food processor or blender, then return the soup to the pot (or keep it in the pot and use an immersion blender). Season soup with salt. Continue to cook over medium-low heat, uncovered, until it has reduced to about ½ to ⅓ of its original volume. Stir occasionally. The final consistency is up to you; when it reaches a thickness that seems right—not too thin, not too thick—it’s ready.

4. While the soup is reducing, put the half-and-half in a small saucepan. Cut the vanilla bean lengthwise into two long strips. Using the back of your knife, scrape the tiny black seeds out of the bean. Scoop the seeds and the bean halves into the pan with the half-and-half, and put the pan over low heat. Warm the half-and-half until it is steaming, but not boiling. Remove it from the heat, remove and discard the vanilla bean halves, and whisk to break up any clumps of seeds in the half-and-half. Set aside.

5. When the soup has reduced to its desired thickness, stir in the half-and-half, taking care to not leave any little black seeds behind in the saucepan. Taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary. Serve, garnished with chives.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: High; soup always tastes better the next day.

ROASTED BUTTERNUT SQUASH SALAD WITH WARM CIDER VINAIGRETTE

Just a little over a month after discovering my new favorite salad, I’ve found its autumn counterpart in this showstopper from the Barefoot Contessa (via The Way the Cookie Crumbles, where I was tickled to see that the monkey peeler featured in the photos is the same one that’s sitting on the shelf over my stove). The arugula and toasted walnuts are still with us, but in this new version the boiled potatoes are replaced by maple-glazed roasted butternut squash, the green beans are now dried cranberries, and the dressing is still mustardy (yes, this Dijonphobe is finally learning to love what a little Grey Poupon can do to a salad dressing), but now based in a reduction of apple cider and cider vinegar for an orgy of fallishness. It’s warmer and bolder, but still light and fresh enough to be perfect for the uncertain Southern California autumn, when the temperature seems to rollercoaster between the 50s and the 90s at a moment’s notice, so that the wintry menu you planned on Friday might seem oppressively heavy and hot by the time Wednesday rolls around.

Again, the real magic lies in the contrast of flavors and textures: the peppery arugula, the caramelized squash, the tart cranberries, the earthy walnuts, the salty cheese, and the sweet-sour dressing. While it wasn’t as much of a revelation for me as the potato-green bean salad (and was certainly more labor-intensive), I’ll be happily making it again, and A adored it. I can’t think of a better way to enjoy the first squash of the season.

The recipe below reflects a few changes to the original, because I did think some of the proportions were a tad bonkers: specifically, the fact that it calls for so much olive oil (½ cup in the dressing, or two tablespoons per serving) and Parmesan (¾ cup or 3 tablespoons per serving). WTF, Ina? Why drown a healthy, colorful salad in unnecessary fat? Since I, too, like my dressings on the acidic side, I followed the lead of The Way the Cookie Crumbles and used only about ¼ cup of oil in the dressing, which was plenty (I still had more dressing than we needed). I should have reduced the salt in the dressing correspondingly, though; a whole teaspoon made it crazy salty (A liked it, but then that man would happily eat a salt lick sprinkled with bacon bits). Next time, ½ teaspoon. And it might sound incongruous, given what a die-hard cheese lover I am, but I can’t imagine this salad with so much cheese, so I cut back to about ¼ cup. Maybe it was the fact that the photos at The Way the Cookie Crumbles didn’t include the Parmesan, but I just kept forgetting that the cheese should be there at all. It did add a nice salty/savory quality, but a spoonful per bowl seemed plenty, and when I ate the leftovers, I didn’t bother with the cheese and didn’t miss it. So I’d even go so far as to classify it as optional.

A few other random thoughts:

• When I pulled the maple syrup out of the fridge, I noticed that it had expired…in August 2008. Guess we need to eat more pancakes around here. Maybe it was my imagination, shocked by this discovery, but I thought it smelled a little weird, though I can’t imagine how exactly syrup would go bad. Anyway, it was OK for the squash glaze, but I threw the rest away.
• I used fancy-schmancy hippie hand-pressed unpasteurized handmade cider from the farmers’ market for the dressing, but since you’re reducing it, any cider or apple juice would work just fine.
• I’m not a cranberry lover, but I liked the effect of roasting them for a few minutes—they got addictively plump and chewy. Nice touch!

1½ pounds butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into ¾-inch dice
6 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon pure maple syrup
1½ teaspoons kosher salt, divided
Freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons dried cranberries
½ cup walnut halves or pieces
¾ cup apple cider or apple juice
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
2 tablespoons minced shallots
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
4 ounces baby arugula, washed and dried
¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

2. Place the butternut squash on a baking sheet. Add 2 tablespoons olive oil, the maple syrup, 1 teaspoon salt, and pepper to taste, then toss to combine. Roast the squash for 15 minutes, turning once, until tender. Add the cranberries and walnuts to the pan and cook for 5 minutes more.

3. While the squash is roasting, combine the apple cider, vinegar, and shallots in a small saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook for 6 to 8 minutes, until the cider is reduced to about ¼ cup. Off the heat, whisk in the mustard, ¼ cup olive oil, ½ teaspoon salt, and pepper.

4. Place the arugula in a large salad bowl and add the roasted squash mixture and the grated Parmesan. Spoon just enough vinaigrette over the salad to moisten and toss well. Season with salt and pepper (if necessary) and serve immediately.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Fair, actually, if all the ingredients are stored separately. I mixed up half the salad for dinner the first night, then stored the remaining arugula in a bag, the remaining squash mixture in a microwaveable container, and the remaining dressing in a small jar. When we wanted to eat the leftovers, I warmed up the squash mixture, then mixed it with the arugula and dressing (I skipped the cheese, but you could add it at this point) and it was just as good as it had been the first time around.

CHOCOLATE CRINKLE COOKIES

These are a classic variety of cookie, but I can only recall encountering them once before: when S, one of my roommates in my first post-college apartment, made them. At that point I was only beginning to cook for myself (I mean really cook, not just assemble convenience ingredients), and baking seemed far beyond my reach, so I was mightily impressed that someone would just whip up some cookies in their spare time. It’s likely that my awe amplified the experience, but I remember those cookies being freakin’ delicious.

So when I received Betty Crocker’s Cooky Book, a facsimile of a 1963 edition, for Christmas one year, I was happy to see that Chocolate Crinkles were represented. I flagged the page…and then managed to ignore it for several years. There were always hipper, sexier cookies to make, cookies with sea salt and bacon and gourmet chocolate. I even made a fancier version of the Chocolate Crinkle once, with almond meal and Ghirardelli (hmm…I’d nearly forgotten about that recipe; perhaps it’s time to revisit it). I loved the vintage look of the cookbook, but the old-timey recipe seemed almost too simple—and a little weird, too, what with its four eggs, and oil instead of shortening or butter. What if it sucked?

Even after deciding to pull the trigger and finally make these cookies one Saturday afternoon, I continued to worry about potential suckiness, especially at a few key moments: when the dough turned out oddly thin, like cake batter, when I tasted the dough and it wasn’t particularly yummy (I consider eating cookie dough off the beaters the number one privilege of being the cook), and yet again when placing my tiny dough balls on the baking sheet. (I mean, teaspoons? Really? Not tablespoons? I was sure these cookies were going to end up the size of animal crackers.) Not to mention that between the chocolate and the powdered sugar, this was one of the messiest recipes I’ve made (maybe I’m a slobbier baker than some, but I had to mop a sticky coating of sugar off the floor afterwards). But the dough firmed up to a fudge-like consistency after chilling, the cookies puffed up to average size in the oven, and they tasted great. To me, the unique texture is what’s truly magical—the sugar forms a delicate, crackly shell encasing the tender, chewy chocolate within. Especially hot from the oven, when the interior is most brownie-like, these are dangerously addictive. Sometimes there’s nothing wrong with old-fashioned.

½ cup vegetable oil
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, melted
2 cups granulated sugar
4 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup confectioners’ (powdered) sugar

1. Mix oil, chocolate, and granulated sugar. Blend in one egg at a time until well mixed. Add vanilla. Stir in flour, baking powder, and salt. Chill several hours or overnight.

2. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Place confectioners’ sugar in a shallow bowl and drop in teaspoonfuls of dough. Roll in sugar, then shape into balls. Place about 2 inches apart on greased baking sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes; do not overbake.

Yield: About 6 dozen

SPINACH AND PORK WONTONS

Habitual readers will already know how much I love ravioli, dumplings, and most other variants of food-stuffed-inside-other-food. It’s surprising, then, that it’s taken me so long to attempt to make my own wontons. I guess I was waiting for the right recipe—one that contained foods I really liked, and didn’t sound too fussy or have too many ingredients. When I saw this one, originally from Food & Wine, at The Bitten Word, with the reassurance that it was actually pretty easy, I finally decided to take the plunge.

I’ve made these twice now, and I can confirm that it isn’t too hard. It’s just on the verge of being too taxing for a weeknight meal, but once I discovered that I could make the filling a day or two ahead of time and chill it in the fridge until I was ready to form the dumplings—and then I could even freeze those until I was ready to cook them—that became a nonissue. These are fun to make (I find folding them rather meditative) and really delicious, and knowing exactly what’s inside them (pork, spinach, and seasonings) makes them seem more wholesome to me than dumplings usually do. They might not win any beauty contests (mine cooked up sort of blobby), but a bowl of them makes an excellent dinner. Even though we eat more (12) than the recommended serving size (7.5), I feel OK about it—that’s only 2 ounces of pork, not much more fat to speak of (just the sesame oil), and at least a cup of spinach.

Lots of recipe notes:

• After reading the comments, I went ahead and doubled the original filling recipe, which was supposed to fill 30 wontons, and got just enough to fill 48 wontons, the exact size of the package of wrappers I’d bought. And that’s not even using heaping teaspoons, so I’m not sure why the proportions of the original are so off. I recommend using the quantities below—if you have too many wontons (is there such a thing?), just freeze them for later; I cook 24, which is two servings for us, and freeze the other 24.
• The recipe originally called for 2 (doubled, 4) cups of spinach. The second time I made it, I went ahead and used the whole bag of spinach I’d bought, which said it contained about 6 cups, because I didn’t want extra spinach sitting around the fridge and I figured spinach shrinks down so much anyway. It didn’t make a noticeable difference in the quantity or taste of the filling, and it was a good way to squeeze in a few more nutrients, so I’m going to continue doing it in the future.
• I didn’t have sherry, so I didn’t use it. Still tasted good.
• The second time around, I put the garlic inside the wontons instead of in the sauce (more on that sauce below). Because I love garlic. It was good, so I’m modifying the recipe to include it.
• I thought the original sauce seemed sort of pointless—the first time, I just used a little extra soy sauce with some red pepper flakes sprinkled in, and it was fine. Then A found Gyoza Dipping Sauce at Trader Joe’s, which is delicious and contains pretty much the same ingredients as the sauce the recipe asks for. Either way, I think it’s a good idea to drizzle the sauce over your bowl of wontons, because it keeps them from sticking together, and they’re a bit delicate to try to dip into sauce anyway. But A prefers to dip, so do whatever you like. Regardless, the garnish of chopped cilantro is key.
  

4–6 cups baby spinach, rinsed
3 teaspoons soy sauce
2 teaspoons Asian sesame oil
2 teaspoons dry sherry (optional)
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon sugar
¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
½ pound ground pork
2 scallions, minced
1½ teaspoons minced fresh ginger
2 small garlic cloves, minced
Cornstarch, for sprinkling
48 thin wonton wrappers
Chopped fresh cilantro
Extra soy sauce or other Asian-style sauce for dipping (I recommend Trader Joe’s Gyoza Sauce)

1. In a skillet over medium heat, cook the spinach with a few spoonfuls of water, covered, stirring occasionally, until wilted; transfer to a colander, let cool, and squeeze dry. Finely chop the spinach.

2. In a bowl, combine the 3 teaspoons soy sauce with the sesame oil, sherry, salt, sugar, and pepper. Mix in the pork, scallion, ginger, garlic, and spinach. Chill for 10 minutes. (You can chill it, covered, for a day or two if you’d like to make your wontons later.)

3. Dust a large baking sheet with cornstarch (you can skip this if your wonton wrappers already seem plenty cornstarchy, as mine did). Arrange 4 wonton wrappers on a work surface, keeping the other wrappers covered with plastic wrap. Brush the edges of the wrappers with water and spoon 1 teaspoon of filling in the center of each. Fold the wrappers diagonally over the filling to form triangles; seal. Bring the two opposite corners of the triangle together; press to seal. Transfer to the baking sheet and cover. Repeat. Any wontons you don’t want to cook right away can be frozen (freeze them on the baking sheet until they harden, then transfer them to an airtight container and freeze until ready to cook; you don’t need to defrost them—just drop them directly into boiling water as in Step 4, but give them a little more cooking time). I usually cook 24 and freeze 24.

4. In a large saucepan of boiling water, simmer the wontons over moderate heat, stirring occasionally. When they float, cook for 3 minutes longer. Drain the wontons well (they can be delicate, so I find that it works better to transfer them one by one to the colander—or directly to serving bowls—with a slotted spoon, rather than pouring them out with the water).

5. Place the wontons in serving bowls and sprinkle with the cilantro. You can toss the wontons with the dipping sauce (I prefer this, because it’s neater and keeps them from sticking together) or dip them into the sauce individually (A prefers this, because it’s fun).

Serves: 4–8
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Not good if already cooked (they stick together and fall apart easily), but it’s great to freeze uncooked wontons for a quickie meal later.

KALE, ROASTED GARLIC, AND FOUR-CHEESE PIZZA

Yes, another pizza recipe. I haven’t met one yet that I didn’t like. That can be reassuring, especially when one needs something new to post to one’s food blog and one’s little experiment with making one’s own pita bread was an EPIC FAIL. (Well, OK, it was edible and tasted good, but it was totally pocketless—it’s supposed to puff up in the oven and then deflate when you take it out, thus creating the pocket. Instead I got flatbread, the making of which devolved into an epic dough-wrestling match that tried my patience and my confidence. I may or may not make a second attempt.)

I was pretty high on roasted garlic after last week, and I had some leftover asiago still in the fridge, so this recipe from Eggs on Sunday (again!) was a slam dunk. I suffered a moment of fear while preparing the kale—being so obsessed with roasting it, I suddenly realized I’d never sautéed it before and didn’t know if I would like it—but the kale actually turned out to be what I loved most about this pizza, which is high praise indeed when you’ve also got roasted garlic and four cheeses to contend with. Even though I’d sautéed it and partially buried it in cheese, its time in the oven rendered it familiarly browned and crispy on the edges: it was like a roasted-kale pizza, guys! Actually, even better: it was like roasted kale on delicious garlic-cheese bread. Because I had a little ricotta sitting lonely in the fridge and have realized that I love ricotta on non-tomato-sauce pizzas (it adds just the right amount of moistness without being overcreamy), I subbed that for the provolone in the original recipe. And it was excellent (while I’m at it, I might try sneaking a little ricotta onto that mushroom-garlic-asiago pizza next time around). Add this to the list of recipes that will get kids (and A, and me) to happily eat their kale.

1 pound pizza dough
1 head of garlic
1 bunch kale
3 cups of grated cheese (I used a mix of ricotta, fontina, asiago, and mozzarella)

1. To roast the garlic, preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Cut the top ¼ inch off the head of garlic, so just the very tops of the cloves are exposed. Drizzle a little olive oil over the head of garlic, wrap it loosely in foil, and place the foil package in the oven for about 1 hour, until the cloves are soft. Squeeze the soft cloves out and roughly chop them. (Roasted garlic can be stored in the refrigerator in a tightly sealed container for several days.)

2. When you’re ready to bake the pizza, preheat the oven to 500 degrees. Stretch out your ball of pizza dough and lay it out on a pizza peel or baking sheet that’s been generously dusted with cornmeal.

3. Wash the kale and trim away the tough center stems. Heat about a tablespoon of olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sauté the kale until wilted. Remove kale from pan and chop it.

4. Top the crust with half the grated cheese, then the roasted garlic and the sauteed kale. Top with another layer of cheese.

5. Bake for about 8 minutes, or until the cheese is bubbly and just starting to brown, and the crust is golden brown.

Serves: 4
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: Good

GREEN BEAN AND POTATO SALAD WITH BACON

At this time of the year, I get a little cranky about living in Southern California. It’s fall—school’s started (and with it, the horrific post-Labor-Day traffic), the days are getting shorter (it’s dark when I get up in the morning and nearly dark when I come home at night), the clothing stores are full of wool and fleece, and I’ve even seen a few leaves turning orange (yes, some of our trees do change colors in the autumn, contrary to popular belief). The food blogs are suddenly full of talk of pumpkins, apples, long-simmered soups, and pot roasts. And…it’s 103 degrees in Pasadena. September is traditionally one of our hottest months, not to mention that some part of the Southland is usually on fire. It’s still too hot for me to even make ice cream, let alone start canning and braising and roasting and baking and cuddling up under blankets the way online peer pressure and my own Northern instincts compel me to.

But I’m trying to look on the bright side. At least I get a little longer to say goodbye to summer and perfect all my salad recipes, right? Like the other night I revisited this one from Cooking Light, which I first made a few months ago and enjoyed, but never got around to writing about. I couldn’t get wax beans, my photos turned out sort of blah, and A—who I’d expected to be enthusiastic about anything involving bacon—was skeptical (“the pieces are too big and it’s hard to eat”). So, in the midst of this new heat wave, I thought I’d give it another shot—this time, with wax beans, a little extra bacon, and the beans and potatoes halved crosswise to address A’s objections. The result was a perfectly pleasant potato-green bean salad, heavy on the green beans (I like that), dressed in a simple vinaigrette, and jazzed up with crumbles of bacon. It’s good…but if this doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement, it’s because not even the allure of bacon can rival the other potato-green bean salad in my life, the one I discovered a few weeks ago and can’t stop craving. So I’m not sure whether this recipe will quite make it into my repertoire. But I recommend it to you, and I might turn to it every now and again, just for variety, when summer starts feeling a little too long.

¾ pound green beans, trimmed
½ pound wax beans, trimmed
½ pound fingerling potatoes, halved lengthwise
¼ cup white wine vinegar, divided
1 tablespoon olive oil
½ teaspoon kosher salt, divided
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1tablespoon minced fresh parsley
2 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled

1. Cook beans in boiling water 5 minutes or until crisp-tender. Drain and run under cold water for a few minutes, then let drain again.

2. Place potatoes in a saucepan; cover with water. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer 5 minutes or until tender; drain. Return potatoes to pan over medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons vinegar to pan; bring to a boil. Remove from heat.

3. Combine remaining 2 tablespoons vinegar, oil, ¼ teaspoon salt, and pepper in a small bowl, stirring with a whisk. Drizzle beans with vinegar mixture; toss well to coat. Place beans on a serving platter; arrange potatoes over beans. Sprinkle with remaining ¼teaspoon salt, parsley, and bacon. Serve at room temperature.

Serves: 6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: OK. The vinegar will discolor the green beans, so it won’t be as pretty, but it will still taste fine.

MUSHROOM, ASIAGO, ROASTED GARLIC, AND THYME PIZZA

Eventually, I’m just going to end up cribbing Eggs on Sunday’s entire Pizza category. I can’t help myself! There’s so much variety, and all the kinds I’ve tried have been seriously good. Left to my own devices, I’d just be throwing some tomato sauce, zucchini, mushrooms, sausage, and mozzarella on there and calling it a day. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but considering that I make pizza once a week, I feel the need to branch out. And I’m OK at improvising every now and then, but with pizza, the possibilities are so endless that I tend to get overwhelmed and would prefer to seek guidance from a recipe so my little head doesn’t spin too much.

Mushrooms are my #1 default pizza topping, so I knew I had to try this one. It’s simple, but with the big, bold flavors of pungent asiago and sweet roasted garlic (mmm…gaaaarlic…) The flavors pair fabulously, and it’s easy to throw together (for weeknight-cooking ease, I roasted the garlic the night before and kept it in a sealed container in the fridge until I was ready to make the pizza). The only thing I’d change would be to use more mushrooms—I suspect my pizza was larger than the one in the original recipe, and although 1 cup seemed to provide plenty of mushroom coverage at first, I’d forgotten how much mushrooms shrink up once they cook, and in the end they looked a little meager. So next time, I’ll try a whole 8-ounce package. No such thing as too many mushrooms, right? In addition to amping up the flavor even more, I think it’ll help the moisture content—I know I overcooked my pizza a little, but even with the drizzle of olive oil it was a bit dry.

1 whole head of garlic
Olive oil
1 ball of pizza dough (1 pound)
1½ cups grated asiago cheese
1–2 cups thinly sliced mushrooms (I like cremini)
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1 tablespoon thinly sliced tops of green onions (optional; I didn’t want to buy some just for this recipe, but if I’d happened to have some on hand, I would have used them)

1. To roast the garlic, preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Cut the top ¼ inch off a whole head of garlic, so just the very tops of the cloves are exposed. Drizzle a little olive oil over the head of garlic, wrap it loosely in foil, and place the foil package in the oven for about 1 hour, until the cloves are soft. Squeeze the soft cloves out and roughly chop them. (Roasted garlic can be stored in the refrigerator in a tightly sealed container for several days.)

2. When you’re ready to bake the pizza, preheat the oven to 500 degrees. Stretch out your ball of pizza dough and lay it out on a pizza peel or baking sheet that’s been generously dusted with cornmeal.

3. Layer the toppings as follows: grated asiago cheese, mushrooms, roasted garlic, thyme, and green onion slices. Drizzle the pizza with a little olive oil.

4. Bake until the cheese has melted and the crust is golden brown, about 8–10 minutes.

Serves: 4
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: Good.

FRUIT AND BROWNED BUTTER CAKE

I made this dessert with some gorgeous “dinosaur egg” pluots a couple of weeks ago, but even though it knocked my socks off and A’s too, I neglected to write about it. At first I couldn’t figure out why I kept procrastinating, and then one day I caught myself thinking, “Hmm, I seem to have forgotten what this tastes like…how will I describe it on my blog? It’s been so long since I tasted it, I really don’t think I can do it justice anymore. Maybe I should whip up another batch, just to inspire myself.” Yes, I had managed to trick myself into making this again. Sometimes having a food blog comes in handy.

Purely in the spirit of scientific inquiry, I used nectarines the second time, and it turned out just as amazingly as the first time around. So: versatile, possibly foolproof? Check. Delicious? CHECK. Astoundingly easy, requiring only a few common ingredients (I didn’t plan on making that second batch ahead of time—just gave in to my craving one day and delightedly found that all the ingredients were already in my kitchen) and some fruit that happens to be in season right now? Check, check, and check. Clearly, I can’t in good conscience keep the recipe from you people any longer.

This isn’t really a cake per se, but that’s what the original recipe (from Classic Home Desserts by Richard Sax) calls it: Quick Apple Cake. Occasionally, while eating, you do get a chunk that seems cake-reminiscent, where the batter has oozed down to surround a piece of fruit. But on the site where I found the recipe, Baking With Julie, it looks more like a pie, baked in a pie plate and cut into wedges. I don’t own a pie plate, if you can believe it, so I used an 8-inch square Pyrex baking dish, and rather than slicing the dessert (which didn’t have much structural integrity anyway the first time I made it, probably because I used too many of those juicy pluots) I just scooped out spoonfuls into bowls, like a cobbler or crisp or crumble—and indeed it’s put together that way, with lots of cooked fruit on the bottom and just a layer of batter on top. Julie calls it “Browned Butter Bliss,” and that’s certainly accurate, as well as being kind of catchy—and really, if we can have desserts called grunts, slumps, buckles, bettys, and pandowdies, why can’t we popularize the bliss? Still, I’m not sure I can pull it off without air quotes, so in the end I opted for a more straight-up descriptive name, mainly so I don’t have to deal with the “huh?” that would probably result each time I told A we were having Bliss for dessert.

The magical ingredient here is the browned butter, which gives the cake a wonderful caramelized flavor (seriously: taste a fingerful of the uncooked batter; the caramel is even more pronounced than in the finished dessert). If you’ve never browned butter before, all that means is melting butter in a pan on the stovetop and then letting it go a shade or two darker—this happens quickly, so you do have to be vigilant, but otherwise it requires no skill on your part. Then you just mix that—by hand; no mixer required—with some sugar, eggs, and flour, and pour the batter over some cut-up fruit you’ve tossed with a little sugar in the baking dish. You don’t even have to peel that fruit! Sprinkle some more sugar on top and bake. One bowl, one baking dish, a few measuring cups, and that’s it. In 40 minutes you’ll have meltingly soft baked fruit, sweetened but still a little tart, nestled beneath a crusty, buttery topping. I’m willing to bet you could use just about any pie-friendly fruit: peaches, plums, apricots, berries, cherries, pears….Obviously I’m going to have to experiment with each and every one. And I haven’t even tried it with ice cream or whipped cream yet—it’s plenty good plain, whether eaten warm from the pan or cold from the fridge the next day. I'd also like to try it with brown sugar, though that might just be gilding the lily.

Even more so than the berry buttermilk cake, my other favorite simple-baked-fruit-dessert discovery of this summer, this is a recipe I can totally envision myself effortlessly memorizing, then whipping up spontaneously at a moment’s notice when guests drop by (of course, guests never really just “drop by” my apartment, but in this fantasy I live in some close-knit, old-timey community with all my friends in easy reach and leisurely afternoons to spend in each others’ kitchens). Or, you know, when I just have some fruit lying around that needs to be eaten.

8 or so small plums or apricots, or 3 large peaches or nectarines, thickly sliced (the original calls for 3 tart apples, peeled and thinly sliced, in which case also add a squeeze of lemon juice to them in the pan)
¾ cup + 3 tablespoons sugar
½ teaspoon cinnamon (optional; I didn’t use it)
½ cup butter
2 large eggs
1 cup all-purpose flour

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

2. Butter a pie plate or 8-inch square baking dish. Toss your fruit in the baking dish with about 2 tablespoons sugar and the cinnamon, if using; spread evenly over the bottom of the dish.

3. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat (I find that a light-colored [i.e., non-nonstick, such as stainless steel] pan works better, because you can see the color of the butter more clearly) and keep cooking it, swirling the pan occasionally, for about 5 minutes or until it turns golden brown (you should see brown flecks in the butter). Remove from heat and pour into a medium mixing bowl.

4. Stir the ¾ cup of sugar into the butter, then the eggs, then the flour. Pour over the fruit and sprinkle with the last tablespoon of sugar.

5. Bake for 40–45 minutes, until golden and crusty, and the juices ooze from around the edges. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream, whipped cream or thick vanilla yogurt.

Serves: 4–8
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: High. I was surprised how much I liked the cold leftovers the next day—almost more than the hot-from-the-oven version (though if you wanted, you could just reheat the leftovers in the microwave—which I’d do if I were serving it with ice cream; I love that warm/cold contrast). Sure, the cake topping gets less crisp, but the flavors seem to meld more.

GREEN BEAN AND CHERRY TOMATO SALAD

With just two vegetables in a basic vinaigrette, this salad is almost too simple to talk about. You may note that it’s also suspiciously similar to this salad, but with shallots instead of corn. But it’s plenty tasty, and since it happens to contains the two vegetables I’ve been most obsessed with this summer (as well as following the vegetable + acid + shallots formula that’s worked so well for me in the past), I’m…going to talk about it anyway. After all, you can never have too many summer salads in your arsenal, particularly when the temperature hits the triple digits and forests in your immediate vicinity are on fire.

The recipe is from Chez Panisse Vegetables, via Smitten Kitchen, and I made it for the first time on the fourth of July, when A was out of town and some friends kindly invited me to share in their cookout, so I volunteered to bring salad and we all enjoyed it. But I forgot to photograph it or write about it, so I made it again last week, as a side dish for a hot-weather dinner of hummus and pita crisps. A, being not really a fan of either cherry tomatoes or green beans, politely tried a few bites and then gave me the rest of his bowl, so I guess we won’t be eating this all the time. But I’m fine with making myself a big bowl to eat by my lonesome when the green-bean-and-cherry-tomato craving strikes again.

I made a half-recipe, but otherwise no other modifications. I haven’t added an herb so far, but I do think basil would be tasty.

1 pound green beans (or a mix of green and yellow beans)
1 pound cherry tomatoes
1 large shallot
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste
⅓ cup extra-virgin olive oil
Basil or other herb (optional)

1. Trim the beans and cut them into large segments. Parboil in salted water until just tender, about four to five minutes. Drain and immediately spread them out to cool.

2. Stem the cherry tomatoes and cut them in half.

3. Peel and mince the shallot and put it in a large bowl with the vinegar and salt and pepper. Whisk in the olive oil. Taste and adjust the balance with more vinegar, oil, or salt, as needed. Toss the cherry tomatoes in with the vinaigrette. This can sit for a while, but do not add the green beans until just before serving or they will discolor from the acid in the vinaigrette. For variety, the salad can be garnished with basil or some other fresh herb such as parsley.

Serves: 6
Time: 15 minutes
Leftover potential: Low to OK. I did eat some leftovers the next day and they tasted fine, but the vinegar had turned the green beans an unappetizing army green, so be forewarned.

ARUGULA, POTATO, AND GREEN BEAN SALAD

Holy crap, I love this salad. And you know my usual lack of enthusiasm for salads. In particular, I’ve always been an avowed potato-salad hater (detest mayonnaise, don’t care much for mustard, and could never see the point of eating cold potatoes), but for some reason, this summer it’s started to look good to me as I’ve seen it paraded across the food blogs (at least the German-style vinegar-based kinds), and I’ve tried a couple of recipes with decent, if not blogworthy results: one had bacon and was therefore quite palatable, and I’ve been meaning to try it again so I can photograph it and write it up here; the other had pesto and was OK but not something I’m likely to crave again. Both of them had green beans, which I am apparently extra obsessed with this year.

But this recipe from Smitten Kitchen (adapted from Martha Stewart) is just what I was looking for, even though I didn’t really know I was looking for it. It’s not a potato salad, but rather a normal (i.e., leafy) salad with potatoes in it, yet the dressing is a sly allusion to potato salad—a vinaigrette with a tiny hit of mustard (not enough to scare off this Dijonphobe, though I was suspicious) and a bit of creaminess (mercifully provided by yogurt, not mayonnaise). What really made this salad about as addictive as salads can get was the wonderful interplay between contrasting textures: the leafy arugula, the tender potatoes, the crisp green beans, the crunchy walnuts, and the creamy dressing. I was worried it would be bland, just plain boiled vegetables with greens and walnuts and some dressing, but it was far from it, even though I didn’t bother to buy walnut oil. (So expensive! Such a big bottle!) It tasted so great with plain old olive oil that I’m going to advise you not to bother with the walnut oil unless you already have it in your cupboard or have been waiting for an excuse to buy some.

Other than the olive oil, I didn’t make any changes to the recipe. I made a half-recipe (but a full amount of the dressing, just because it was easier to measure and whisk that way; of course, then I had some left over, which I really should have saved to put over ordinary salad) and split it into two big servings, which we ate for dinner with garlic-butter salmon on the side—and I kid you not, the salad outshone the salmon for me; I actually, for perhaps the first time in my life, wished I could just have two bowls of salad for dinner. I did think the recipe called for slightly too many potatoes—I would venture to say 1 pound might do it—but I’ll let you make that call. I didn’t really measure out my arugula, just pulled enough handfuls out of the bag to fill our bowls and then tossed the other ingredients on top. And I flubbed a bit and put all the salt and pepper in the dressing, rather than saving half to sprinkle over the salad. It didn’t seem to make too much difference.

I can’t wait to make this again. I like that even though it’s perfect for summer—a more vitamin-rich, colorful riff on the old picnic side dish—you could just as easily make this in the winter if you can find decent-quality potatoes and green beans and bagged arugula. Something about walnuts always seems Christmasy to me anyway. But I certainly won’t wait that long…in fact, I might make more this weekend.

1 ounce walnuts (about ⅓ cup)
1½ pounds fingerling potatoes, cut crosswise into ½-inch-thick rounds
6 ounces green beans, trimmed and cut into 2-inch segments
2 tablespoons white wine or other mild vinegar
2 tablespoons plain yogurt
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon coarse salt
Freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons walnut oil or olive oil
3 ounces baby arugula

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees, place walnuts on a rimmed baking sheet, and toast in oven until fragrant, about 8 minutes (you can do this in a skillet on the stovetop over medium heat, if you prefer). Let cool slightly, then coarsely chop and set aside.

2. Bring a medium saucepan of water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until tender, about 10 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer potatoes to a colander to drain and cool. Set aside.

3. Return pan of water to a boil. Add green beans, and cook until tender and bright green, about 3 to 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a colander and run under cold water to stop the cooking.

4. Whisk together vinegar, yogurt, mustard, and ½ teaspoon salt in a small bowl; season with pepper. Add oil in a slow, steady stream, whisking until emulsified. Set dressing aside.

5. Arrange arugula, potatoes, and green beans on a platter. Season with remaining ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Drizzle with dressing and sprinkle with toasted walnuts; toss to coat.

Serves: 4 as a main dish, 8 as a side dish
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Low; as with most leafy salads, the arugula will get wilty and slimy if it sits in the dressing for too long.

ROASTED GREEN BEANS

Psst! I realized something important this week: I've been happily making roasted green beans for years now (YEARS, I TELL YOU) and yet have never bothered to post the recipe here. So basically, I've been selfishly keeping roasted green beans a secret all this time, clutching them tightly to my breast in my wizened claws while muttering "Bah humbug! NO ROASTED GREEN BEANS FOR YOU!"

OK, not really. Actually, I just kept forgetting to post the recipe, and then I forgot about it completely for a while and only recently, in the throes of a serious summer passion for green beans, remembered its existence. I'm just trying to sexy this up a little bit, since it's so ridiculously simple it barely seems like a recipe at all. But it's no simpler than roasted asparagus, roasted broccoli, or roasted kale, and just as good, so I suppose it deserves a posting.

Y'all already know that roasting things makes them tasty--browned and delightfully chewy-crunchy, almost addictively snackworthy--and green beans are no different. If you think you don't like a vegetable, I say, try it roasted (it's worked for me with turnips, parsnips, and kale, although I have so far failed to fall in love with roasted beets). And of course, if you love a vegetable, definitely try it roasted. I especially like roasting green beans because--has this ever happened to you? Sometimes you go to the market and you get green beans and they're fantastic, so crisp and juicy you can eat them raw (I actually like raw green beans better than cooked ones; it reminds me of picking them and eating them straight from the garden as a kid). But then other times, even though the beans appear to be just as nice, and you spend an hour carefully choosing the skinny ones and skipping the overmature bulgy ones, you get them home and they're all thick and lumpy and tough and dry and revolting. That happened to me this week, and it was bumming me out until I remembered that roasting is an excellent treatment for non-superstar green beans. High heat transforms all that leathery starchiness back into sweet, sweet sugar (SCIENCE!). For extra excitement, try a mixture of green and yellow beans.

1 pound green beans, trimmed
1 tablespoon olive oil
Coarse salt to taste

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Wash the beans and dry them well. Place them on a baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with a little salt, and toss well.

3. Roast for 15 minutes, or until beans reach desired degree of doneness, stirring them or shaking the pan a few times so they roast evenly. Season with additional salt, and a little fresh-ground pepper would not be a bad thing either.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Fair. They'll be best right out of the oven, but they're still pretty tasty reheated.

CAVATAPPI WITH BACON AND SUMMER VEGETABLES

Since I already have an embarrassment of pasta recipes, I try to be pretty cautious about acquiring new ones, but when I saw this recipe in this month’s Cooking Light, it called out to me. After all, I rationalized, I don’t have any pasta recipes involving corn, and corn is so deliciously in season right now, and besides, mixing in a little bacon is the best way to get A to eat his vegetables. Not to mention that cavatappi happens to be my favorite pasta shape—although ironically, when I went to buy it for this dish I suddenly couldn’t find it at the store and had to use “cellentani,” which looks pretty much the same to me but is maybe slightly smaller. Then when I was boiling the pasta I scooped out one noodle to taste to see if it was done, forgetting that the pasta was hollow and thus full of 212-degree water, which promptly dribbled out of the corner of my mouth and down my chin, leaving me with an actual burn, a perfectly vertical pink line, that stung like the dickens for the rest of the evening and made people wonder for the next day or so if I’d had some sort of rogue lip-gloss incident.

ANYWAY. I had to futz with this recipe a little, since it was part of the “Dinner Tonight” part of the magazine and thus called for silly convenience items like bottled minced garlic and prechopped onion. Also, I doubled the amount of pasta, because I don’t like to have half-boxes of pasta cluttering up my cupboards and I love having a stash of leftovers to eat from all week long. So then I had to figure out what to do with the rest of the quantities. I straight-up doubled the garlic, zucchini, cheese, basil, and salt, because it was easy to do and I like those things. I went with 1½ times the number of bacon slices, because 8 just seemed like a lot and I was planning to have 6 servings of pasta (I actually ended up with more like 7), so one bacon slice per serving seemed reasonable. I also intended to do 1½ times the amount of corn, or 3 ears instead of 2, but my ears must have been honkin’ compared to the ones Cooking Light used, because they called for 1 cup of kernels and I got over 3 cups. So I’m just saying 3 ears of corn. I didn’t increase the onion (because I only had 1 onion) or the tomatoes (because a pint already seemed like a lot), and it was a good thing I didn’t, because when fully assembled, the pasta and sauce barely fit in my big skillet—this is a ton of veggies, and curly pasta takes up a lot of space. But the tomatoes are so good in the finished dish (I’m really loving grape/cherry tomatoes this year for some reason), I’d maybe increase to 1½ pints if I had them available.

ANYWAY. Since it’s basically just bacon, vegetables, and pasta with a few seasonings thrown in, this recipe is pretty flexible, so do whatever you feel like. The online version even says “use whatever veggies you have on hand,” though I’m partial to this particular combo. I know I’ve been using this word a lot, but it’s just so summery! The only thing I’d change next time would be to actually pour a little of the bacon fat out of the pan before adding the onion and garlic; I had a lot of it, and the finished dish was ever-so-slightly on the greasy side. The bacon fat adds wonderful flavor and keeps the dish moist, but I could have done with a bit less—after all, you can always loosen things up with some olive oil or reserved pasta water after you’ve assembled everything if it looks too dry.

ANYWAY. I loved this. I will make it again, probably within a month. I wish I were eating it for lunch today. You should try it, too.

1 pound cavatappi or other curly pasta
6 slices thick-cut bacon, diced
1 large onion, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, minced
2 medium-large zucchini, quartered lengthwise and cut into ¼-inch-thick slices
3 medium-large ears fresh corn (remove kernels and discard cobs)
1 pint grape tomatoes, halved if large
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
½ cup chopped fresh basil
1 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Cook pasta according to package directions and drain.

2. Meanwhile, cook bacon in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat 5 minutes or until crisp. Remove bacon from pan with a slotted spoon, reserving drippings in pan. Add onion and garlic to pan; sauté 2 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add zucchini; cook 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in corn and tomatoes; cook 5 minutes or until tomatoes begin to break down, stirring occasionally.

3. Add pasta to vegetable mixture; toss. Cook 1 minute or until thoroughly heated, stirring frequently. Remove from heat. Add ½ cup cheese, bacon, basil, salt, and pepper; toss to combine. Serve sprinkled with remaining cheese.

Serves: 6–8
Time: 40 minutes
Leftover potential: High

FRUIT SALAD WITH MINT

On Tuesday night, I had to pick A up at the airport at an awkward hour of the evening: several hours after the end of the workday (I work right next to the airport), but too early for me to drive all the way home in rush-hour traffic and then all the way back. Luckily, my friend M, who lives on the airport side of town, graciously allowed me to impose on her family’s hospitality and spend the post-work/pre-airport time at their home. They even fed me a tasty dinner. I owed them big time—but luckily, at least the fruit salad I brought turned out to be delicious.

A fruit salad is always a nice option to have at a potluck, barbeque, or picnic (although as a non-eater of most melons, I always feel conspicuous as I try to pick around the omnipresent cantaloupe and honeydew therein), but I never crave fruit salads in my everyday life. Good fruit doesn’t require any adornment, and eating a single fruit at a time is fine by me. Fruit is usually the easy side dish or afterthought in our meals, requiring no more preparation than washing and cutting, and I don’t see the point in complicating things. But then I saw this recipe, originally adapted from Giada de Laurentis, on Cheap Healthy Good, and it sounded so good, with the mojito-like flavors of mint and lime plus the intriguing addition of almond flavoring, which I love. I could make it with three of my favorite fruits—strawberries, blueberries, and peaches (I would have added watermelon, which is frequently paired with mint, but I was at the farmers’ market alone and already had too much to carry without the addition of a huge, heavy melon). I could make it ahead of time. And making simple syrup, prepping the fruit, and whirling the dressing ingredients together in a blender sounded like a manageable amount of work for a Monday night.

I was not wrong. The salad was a little soupy when I served it the next evening (I blame a bunch of the blueberries, which turned out to be squishy right out of the package), but I loved it and it was well received. I had been a little worried that so much mint would dominate the fruit, but it didn’t—blended into the dressing, the mint added a bright, fresh flavor without tasting like a stick of gum. The dressing was sweet, but not too sweet. The salad was supposed to yield 10 servings, but we three adults and two kids pretty much polished it off (well, I had also set aside about a bowl of it for A at home). I will definitely be making this again, and not just for parties, but for regular old home eatin’. What a perfect, refreshing dessert for a hot summer day.

You can use just about any summer fruit you want in this salad (the original version had watermelon and the dreaded cantaloupe, while Cheap Healthy Good’s included mango), but here’s what I did:

1 pint strawberries, sliced
1 pint blueberries
3 peaches, peeled and cubed
⅛ cup simple syrup (1 part sugar to 1 part water; see instructions below)
¼ cup lime juice (about 3 limes)
½ cup fresh mint, chopped
⅛ teaspoon almond extract

1. To make simple syrup, bring water to a boil in a small pot (I used ½ cup, because any smaller amount just seemed unmanageably tiny even for my smallest saucepan; leftover simple syrup can be refrigerated in a glass jar for up to 1 month, either to make more fruit salad later or to make beverages such as lemonade or cocktails). Stir in an equal amount of sugar until dissolved completely. Remove from heat and allow to cool (if you’re in a hurry, stick it in the fridge) while prepping fruit.

2. Wash, peel, and chop fruit as desired.

3. In a blender, combine simple syrup, lime juice, chopped mint, and almond extract.

4. Toss dressing over fruit.

5. Chill (overnight is good) and serve.

Serves: 5-10
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

GREEN BEANS AND CORN WITH TOMATO-HERB VINAIGRETTE

This recipe, from Jack Bishop’s Vegetables Every Day, tastes exactly as you’d expect, and I mean that in the best way possible. If you have sweet corn, tomatoes, and green beans at the peak of their fresh summer perfection, you don’t need to do much to them beyond a few minutes of cooking and a quick toss in a light vinaigrette. I quartered the recipe, and the big bowl of delicious veggies, served with a quesadilla on the side, made a perfect it’s-too-hot-to-stand-over-the-stove weeknight meal for one—particularly since I had already-cooked corn kernels ready to go, cut off an ear I’d boiled the night before while making myself some corn on the cob, which enabled me to skip Step 1 and part of step 3. I used some mixed heirloom cherry tomatoes, which always seem to work more neatly in salads than chunks from a bigger tomato, and just one herb (basil), since I needed such a small quantity. I’m looking forward to making more next time, with a full array of herbs, as a light side dish for me and A, and a full batch would also make a great salad option for a picnic or cookout. It just tastes like summer.

4 medium ears corn
2 medium ripe tomatoes (about 1 pound), cored and cut into ½-inch cubes
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
¼ cup minced fresh herbs (especially basil, tarragon, chives, parsley, and cilantro)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 pound green beans, ends snapped off

1. Remove the husks and silk from the corn. Cut the ears in half crosswise with a chef’s knife, stand each piece on its cut end, and slice downward several times to remove all the kernels (discard the cobs). You should have about 2½ cups kernels.

2. Bring several quarts of water to a boil in a large pot. While waiting for the water to boil, combine the tomatoes, oil, vinegar, herbs, and salt and pepper to taste in a large serving bowl. Set aside.

3. Add the beans and salt to taste to the boiling water. Cook for 3 minutes. Add the corn and continue cooking until the vegetables are tender, 2 to 3 minutes longer. Drain, shake dry, and then spread the vegetables over a clean towel so they dry quickly. Let cool to room temperature.

4. When the beans and corn are just barely warm (this will take about 10 minutes), toss them with the tomato mixture. Adjust the seasonings. Serve at room temperature. (This salad can be covered and set aside for up to 2 hours.)

Serves: 4–6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: I didn't have any leftovers, but I imagine this would be fine the next day.

SUMMER CSA: WEEK 6, PLUS A LITTLE ROADFOOD

Sorry my posting’s been spotty lately; I’ve been hot, busy, and a little uninspired. My love affair with my ice-cream maker fizzled during the summer’s first real heat wave, when the warmth of our un-air-conditioned apartment combined with the feebleness of our freezer to produce honey ice cream that tasted spectacular but had the consistency of a cool beverage. (I’ll try again when temperate weather returns and write a proper post about it.) A’s been out of town twice, leaving me cooking for one or subsisting on leftovers, and then for 10 days I was away from my kitchen, on a week-long Midwestern vacation that included a roadtrip through Iowa, Missouri, and Kansas (to visit three presidential libraries: Hoover, Truman, and Eisenhower).

We spent less than 12 hours in Kansas City, during at least 8 of which we were busy sleeping, but I made sure our visit included dinner at Arthur Bryant’s, made famous in Calvin Trillin’s classic food book American Fried, which my father started reading to me while I was practically still in the cradle (I believe I even tried to an excerpt as a speech piece in middle school, but was persuaded to switch to The Call of the Wild or some such malarkey instead). Here is my glorious pulled-pork sandwich:




The next day, in Independence, I discovered a new taste sensation thanks to Harry Truman:


That’s the Harry’s Favorite, chocolate ice cream with butterscotch sauce, at Clinton’s Soda Fountain, where Truman worked as a teenager. I’m a big fan of butterscotch sauce and try to order it whenever I see it offered, in order to encourage its continued existence; it seems to be gradually giving way to the more preferred contemporary non-chocolate, non-fruit sundae topping, caramel. But I’d never had it on chocolate ice cream, and I must say I was impressed. Truman had good taste.

Although we were cruelly denied a meal at one of Kansas's famous fried-chicken destinations, the trip did include some other non-photographed food highlights, including my first tastes of cherry jam and blackberry wine (yum and yum), and excellent peach cobbler and beer at Free State Brewing in Lawrence, Kansas. But during my trip, I missed a CSA delivery, forcing P to singlehandedly dispatch three heads of lettuce and thirtysomething small zucchini. I returned just in time for this, the last box of the summer quarter already!


The cast of characters:
1 bunch arugula
1 head lettuce
1 head…some other kind of lettuce?
1 bizarre, alien-looking cucumber
1 head broccoli
5 zucchini
2 tomatoes
2 onions
6 Yukon Gold potatoes
3 Valencia oranges

I'm mystified by that one bunch of greens on the left. The leaves are a darker green, like spinach, but not as thick. I'm sure it's just some sort of lettuce, but I haven't come up with anything to do about it yet. Everything else, though, I'm on top of: The oranges can be eaten as snacks, and the onions can sit in the cupboard until I’m ready for them. I’ve already eaten the ruffly head of lettuce on a BLT and in salads, accompanied by slices from the weirdo long, skinny, curvy cucumber (I’d forgotten how good cucumber is on a BLT). Last night I made a tomato sauce from the tomatoes, mixed in the arugula, and served it over linguine (recipe coming later this week). When A gets back we’ll have roasted broccoli with Parmesan and lemon, zucchini fritters, and maybe some oven fries—after all, we need something we can dip into the barbecue sauce I brought back from Arthur Bryant’s!

The last CSA box was so long ago, I’ve already forgotten what I did with the contents, so I won’t bore you with the recap. I’m sad to see the season end and am not sure whether I’ll be signing up for the fall quarter yet—P may be out of the country for a month, and I just can’t handle a whole box on my own, particularly since I work from home on the days the box is delivered and rely on P to pick it up. I must say, though, that the veggie selection just wasn’t as interesting as it was in the winter. I adored the honey and am so happy to have discovered Italian flat beans, and that one week we got avocados was lovely and the oranges were nice, but everything else was pretty standard, and about comparable to what I get at the farmers’ market anyway. The thrill was much more in the suspense and the surprise, and the challenge of having to plan a menu around certain preassigned ingredients.

APRICOT-GLAZED SRIRACHA GINGER CHICKEN

Oh, yum. And also, YUM. This is my favorite kind of recipe—the kind that packs a huge flavor punch and will wow the hell out of anyone who eats it, but has a dirty little secret: it’s dead easy, laughably simple, and super-cheap to make. Without having to buy many special ingredients or expend much effort to speak of (just blend, then bake), you can bask in the glow of feeling all fancy and awesome and enjoy as much sticky-sweet-salty-spicy-saucy chicken as your stomach can hold. It’s a win-win!

When I saw this recipe (loosely adapted from Gourmet) at Sassy Radish, I knew it would be a slam-dunk with A, a Sriracha devotee, but was less sure how I’d like it myself, considering my feelings about all the separate ingredients don’t rise much above neutral. When I was mixing up the marinade, I started to worry that the chicken would just taste like soy sauce, because that’s about all I could smell. But I kept telling myself that the flavors would change in the oven, and I was right: the chicken emerged transformed. The sauce was amazingly addictive, with just the right amount of spice (enough to make my lips burn just a little, but not so much that a cold beer didn’t quench the fire). I licked my fingers, licked the plate, and wanted more. This is definitely going into constant rotation, especially in the summer.

The only change I made was to use chicken drumsticks instead of whole chicken legs, because I can buy a package of 6 drumsticks for a pittance at Trader Joe’s, whereas for whole legs I have to make a special trip to Whole Foods and spend about four pittances. Plus it seemed like a saucy glaze like this was tailor-made for casual, family-friendly finger food like drumsticks (or even chicken wings, but I’ve never been a fan of them—so much work for so very little meat). The drumsticks worked great, but I ended up with way more sauce than chicken—not a huge problem when the sauce is so tasty, but a little wasteful, and the sauce didn’t cook down enough to get really glazy. I could probably have used twice the drumsticks and cooked everything in a 9-by-13 dish instead of drowning my drumsticks in several inches of sauce in a 9-by-9 dish. I’ll try it next time and report back. It wouldn’t hurt to have leftovers—A ate ours the next day, and he reported that they were even tastier then.

3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 (3-inch) piece peeled ginger, finely chopped
⅔ cup apricot preserves or jam
⅓ cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons Sriracha
4 bone-in chicken legs (drumstick and thigh) or an equivalent quantity of drumsticks, washed and patted dry

1. Place garlic, ginger, preserves, soy sauce, water, and Sriracha and in a food processor or blender and pulse until sauce is combined.

2. Place sauce and chicken in a plastic bag or a glass bowl with a lid (if your baking dish has a lid, that would be extra-convenient) and let marinate for an hour.

3. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

4. Place the chicken and sauce in a baking pan and bake for 30 minutes, at which point you should check for doneness. If red or pink juices are running when you cut into the chicken), cook some more at 350 degrees (check after 15 minutes and then at 5-minute intervals—mine took about 45 minutes total).

Serves: 4
Time: 1 hour, plus 1 hour for marinating
Leftover potential: I haven’t tested this myself yet, but A testifies to their goodness.

SUMMER CSA: WEEK 4

3 yellow zucchini
1 bunch of teeny-tiny radishes
2 leeks
2 onions
6 Yukon Gold potatoes
½ bunch sage
½ bunch basil
1 head lettuce
11 carrots
Italian flat beans (forgot to count them)

Hooray, more Italian flat beans! That’s the most remarkable part of this week’s haul; there’s not even any exotic Californian fruit to liven things up. While I was unpacking the bag of produce last night, A and I agreed that the summer CSA selection has been pretty tame compared to the winter one. That makes it less work to fit the produce into our menu, but it takes a little of the thrill of adventure away, too.

I’ll probably serve the flat beans with shallots and lemon again; they were just perfect that way before. The carrots and radishes will be snacks (I had some this morning, in fact; the carrots are sweet, while the radishes are remarkably spicy, belying their wee, cute appearance). I’m not sure about everything else. The lettuce is just begging me to make BLTs again, and the potatoes and basil make me think of pesto-potato pizza...although penne with potatoes and arugula would be good, too; are there enough potatoes for both? I'm stumped on the leeks--I wonder if I could sub them for the red onion in the potato-arugula pasta recipe? Otherwise, I'm tempted to just make this seductive leek confit and then figure out what to do with it later, like throw it into eggs or on sandwiches or something. Yellow squash salad would be a natural use for a couple of the yellow zucchini. The one item that looks likely to defeat me is the sage; I think of it as more of a fall/winter herb and don’t think I have any recipes that call for it that don’t also involve butternut squash. Maybe I can freeze it.

Here’s what happened to the last box:

• Leek: Used in pasta with bacon, leeks, and mushrooms
• Carrots: Eaten as snacks
• Rosemary: Thrown away, sadly, after I failed to use or freeze it
• Potatoes: Used in a pretty tasty pesto-potato salad with green beans, which I failed to post here because I felt like maybe my execution was a little flawed; I overcooked the potatoes, which made me feel like I was eating cold mashed potatoes, and I don't think I had enough pesto, and although I really liked having the pine nuts whole in the salad rather than blended into the pesto, it was odd to have shredded Parmesan in there--it might have been better off blended in. I'd like to try it with my pesto recipe (minus the pine nuts), because parsley really brightens things up. If I do attempt it again and improve upon my first attempt, I'll post it.
  
• Oranges: Eaten
• Arugula: Used in corn, arugula, and bacon salad
• Spinach: Thrown into the pasta with bacon, leeks, and mushrooms when I realized I didn’t have anything else to do with it. It was a tasty addition that added some nice color; I would actually consider doing it again in the future.
• Celery: Eaten as snacks
• Cucumber Used in fattoush
• Honey: Not used yet, but honey ice cream is in my plan for this weekend.

STRAWBERRY FROZEN YOGURT

When A and I took our first taste of this frozen yogurt after churning it in the ice cream maker, we both looked at each other and said, “Strawberry Julius.” My version may be a little fresher, but it took me right back to the treat I’d always order at mall staple Orange Julius when I was a kid, my reward for behaving myself after what then seemed like an interminable session of shopping with my mother. I gather from its Web site that Orange Julius has now become just another Jamba Juice/Robek’s clone, offering a wide variety of fruit smoothies with names like “Strawberry Xtreme” and “Tropical Tango,” but back then there were just two flavors, orange and strawberry, and you could get a raw egg blended in if you wanted to. (Ah, the ’80s, when we didn’t care about food safety, didn’t wear bike helmets, and rode in the back of hatchback cars without seat belts!)

Nostalgia aside, this is another great recipe from David Lebovitz (I got it from A Perfect Scoop, but you can also find a version on his blog)—pretty similar to the blueberry fro-yo I made a couple of weeks ago, only you macerate the strawberries with the sugar and alcohol to get the juices going, and you don’t have to press the mixture through a sieve (it’s an option, but I like the little crunch of strawberry seeds). It didn’t taste quite so magically revelatory to me as the blueberry one did, but it was still insanely delicious enough to shatter all my expectations about what frozen yogurt should be, and you can’t beat that brilliant shade of pink. Also, now that we finally have hot weather like the rest of the country, I can testify that this (fairly) light frozen treat is just about the best refreshment I can think of after a stroll on a warm summer night. Considering how plentiful and beautiful Southern California strawberries are, it’s a recipe I’ll make again and again.

1 pound (450g) strawberries, rinsed and hulled
⅔ cup (130g) sugar
2 teaspoons vodka or kirsch (optional, but recommended; I used kirsch)
1 cup (240g) plain whole-milk yogurt (I recommend Greek yogurt)
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1. Slice the strawberries into small pieces. Toss in a bowl with the sugar and vodka or kirsch (if using) until the sugar begins to dissolve. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature for 2 hours, stirring every so often.

2. Transfer the strawberries and their juice to a blender or food processor. Add the yogurt and lemon juice. Pulse the machine until the mixture is almost smooth. If you wish, press the mixture through a mesh strainer to remove any seeds.

3. Chill for 1 hour, then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Time: 3 hours 15 minutes, mostly hands-off, plus processing time
Yield: 1 quart (6-8 servings)
Leftover potential: Good

SUMMER CSA: WEEK 3

This week, the lovely Grover Cleveland will undertake the Vanna White role in showing off our CSA bounty:


My share of the box contained:
1 leek
4 carrots
½ bunch rosemary
3 Yukon Gold potatoes
4 Valencia oranges
½ bunch arugula
½ bunch spinach
½ head celery
1 cucumber (I took this in exchange for P getting the cauliflower)
1 jar honey! (I was super-excited about this, so P was generous enough to let me have the whole jar)

Grover is a particular fan of the spinach (he actually took a tiny bite right after I snapped this photo):


Beyond the honey, everything here is pretty tame and should be easy to use up. As usual, the carrots, celery, and oranges will be snacks. I plan to use the arugula in a salad with corn and bacon, the potatoes in a new pesto-potato salad, the leek in some pasta with bacon and mushrooms, and the cucumber in fattoush. The spinach will just have to be a salad or something, and I guess the rosemary gets left out again—I’ll probably throw it in the freezer. As for the honey, I can always use it in granola (I go through a lot of honey that way), but I’d like to use at least a little in something special, where you can really taste it. I’m thinking honey ice cream!


That’s right, Grover; I said “honey ice cream.”

Here’s how we dispatched the last CSA box:

• Onion: Used in pizza sauce
• Celery: Snacked upon (a little too skinny and bitter, though; would have been better in soup)
• Spinach: Used on pizza bianca instead of arugula (which was really good!)
• Lettuce: Used on BLTs and as salad
• Leek: Used on pizza bianca instead of onion
• Strawberries: Eaten straight up
• Round zucchini: Eaten in vegetable tortilla stacks (They might have been better stuffed, after all—they were a little disappointing texture-wise, with the dry mealiness typical of zucchini that grow too large, though they tasted fine mixed up with other ingredients.)
• Italian flat beans: Eaten with shallots and lemon (These beans were a wonderful discovery—so tender, velvety and delicious! I’ll definitely look for them at the farmers’ market in the future and hope they show up in future CSA boxes.)