Too hot for soup?

Think again—it’s really just as hot eating sauced pastas, or grilled kebabs, fluffy omelets, or stir-frys. In a way, soup is lighter, less of a commitment. And yet, it can still soothe, still satisfy.

Like this soup that my cousin cooked up one evening during her visit.

It highlights the golden bounty of summer, with a couple of surprising twists: like the counterpoint of jalapeno heat and nutmeg spice. Oh, yeah.

It has a very adaptable nature, too. Cousin Cathy got her inspiration from a Jane Brody recipe that features zucchini, corn, chicken broth. On occasion, she has replaced the corn with hominy, with favorable results. While at my house, we made a few other substitutions that created a marvelous, complex layering of flavors–with minimal effort.

This year, my garden zucchini crop was a curious, abysmal failure–beautiful plants that bore almost no fruit–but my “straight-eights” produced aplenty, an easy ingredient swap. A soup with sweet yellow squash paired with farmer’s market peaches-and-cream corn roasted on the grill….

…became anchored in an earthy wash of mushroom broth. Another surprise!

In deference to the vegetarian in the house, we opted out of using chicken broth. Cathy didn’t want the inherent sweetness you find in some vegetable stocks—a little “carrot forward” she correctly thought. I had a container of organic mushroom broth in my pantry, how about using this?

A-ha!

Once she sauteed the onion in butter, Cathy poured in our mushroomy brown liquid–the color is not the most visually appealing, but its aroma is pleasant, almost musty, with hints of garlic. (and, that color mellows out, when you add the milk.)

The squash, corn, jalapenos all simmered briefly, imparting their good flavors, while retaining their integrity.

As I typically saute my veggies before adding the broth–caramelizing them somewhat, for deeper flavor—I was surprised, and pleased by this simpler method. It kept the texture and bite of the soup right.

A Heads-Up: The garnishing is not just for show—it plays in key role in the soup’s success. Especially the nutmeg. If you have–or can get–whole nutmeg, and grate it over the soup just before serving, you’ll be astounded by what a compelling top note of spice it brings to the mix.

Overall, you’ll find intriguing tastes at play, arrived at in quick-time. Perfect for waking up a sleepy palate in the waning summer heat.

COUSIN CATHY’S ROASTED CORN-SUMMER SQUASH SOUP adapted from Jane Brody’s Good Food Cookbook

1 small Onion, diced
1 1/2 t. Butter
2 c. Mushroom Broth
2 c. Yellow Squash, diced
2 c. Roasted Corn Kernels
2 T. chopped Jalapenos or Green Chiles
1 c. lowfat Milk
2 oz. Monterey Jack Cheese, shredded
Chopped Italian Flatleaf Parsley for garnish
Fresh grated Nutmeg for garnish

Saute onion in butter until translucent, about 3 minutes.
Stir in broth, squash, corn, and chilis. Season with salt and pepper.
Bring to just under a boil, reduce heat, cover pan and cook until squash is tender, about 5 minutes.

Stir in milk and heat until hot, not boiling.

Pour into bowls, and sprinkle with cheese and parsley, and fresh grated nutmeg.

Serves 4

Around this time each August, when tomatoes are at that wondrous peak of perfection—and production—Nashville’s One and Only Tomato Art Fest takes place.

Not only does it give us the chance to express our love of All Things Tomato, we also get to push ourselves creatively, with the beguiling fruit of the Nightshade family as our Muse.

For some, it manifests two-dimensionally: the Art and Invention Gallery displays tomato-inspired works created especially for the Fest.

For others, it is chance to strut your stuff; the fest is a tomato-directed costume party that rivals Halloween.

But for us local food activists, it means getting in the kitchen and baking up sweet and savory tomato goodies for the Everything Tomato Bake Sale. Proceeds from the sale go the Field of Greens Fund, which was founded to benefit farmers in our local foodshed who suffered damage from the Great May Floods.

For last years sale, I made this, and it sold so well that I knew I would make it again.

But I also like the challenge of coming up with something new for the sale. How best to combine my garden zucchinis, my surplus of fat ripe cherry tomatoes….

…and some beautiful fresh Greek Oregano and Summer Savory, grown by Arugula’s Star?

With these at hand, some Greek yogurt and goat cheese in my fridge, a roll of phyllo stashed in the freezer, a sunny-along-the-Aegean-Sea direction began to form.

Roasted Zucchini planks smeared with herb-laced goat cheese stacked with sliced tomatoes encased in phyllo: the result was a cross between a terrine and a napoleon.

It baked up beautifully, with sharp feta nose, bright acid tomato pop, and robust herbal notes that conjured the rocky coast of a Greek Isle. Sliced, it’s delicious for snacking, or served as a first course. I think it would be nice for brunch, too.

But, here’s a hot tip:
At the Everything Tomato Bake Sale, it was the First Thing to sell out.

COOK’S NOTES:
Phyllo can be a little tricky to work with; thank goodness it is so forgiving.

Thaw your package in the refrigerator overnight before using.
Have all your ingredients organized and ready to assemble, including your brush and bowl of olive oil.
Work quickly, and don’t worry about piecing the Napoleon here and there. Layer over layer of phyllo will create the right shape, bring it all together.

TOMATO-ZUCCHINI NAPOLEON
1 roll Phyllo Dough (one of the two pkgs. in a box)
3 medium Zucchinis
1 medium Onion
3 medium Tomatoes, or 1 1/2 pts. Cherry Tomatoes
6 oz. Mild Goat Cheese
4 oz. Feta
6 oz. Greek Yogurt
several sprigs fresh Summer Savory
several sprigs fresh Oregano
1 Egg
Salt and Black Pepper
Olive Oil
1 terrine or Loaf pan

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Slice zucchini into long planks, about1/4″ thick. Slice onion into strips. Lay out both vegetables onto a baking sheet pan and brush with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and roast for 7-10 minutes. Remove and allow to cool. Drop oven temperature to 375.

In a food processor fitted with a swivel blade, pulse together the yogurt, goat cheese, feta, egg, salt, pepper. Then add fresh herbs and pulse again until the herbs are chopped—but not too finely—throughout.

Oil the terrine or loaf pan. Unroll phyllo pastry and cover with a damp towel. Lift a couple of leaves of the phyllo and lay into terrine. The leaves, or sheets will fold over the sides of the pan. Brush with olive oil and repeat the process until the terrine base and sides are covered, several sheets deep.

Place a layer of sliced tomatoes at the bottom. Spoon some of the cheese mixture over, then place a layer of the roasted zucchini planks. Continue this layering process until you fill the terrine. Finish with a few sheets of phyllo to cover the top.

Bake in a 375 degree oven for 30 minutes. Phyllo will brown and crispen.
Allow to cool, and invert. Serve in slices for snacking, or as an appetizer.
Makes 10 slices.

It’s always a great pleasure for me to have houseguests who also love to cook. And not just for the fun of planning the meals together, or the camaraderie of working side by side in the kitchen. It’s the new things that I get to learn about, whether they are techniques, ingredients, or recipes. We all have such varied experiences with food; there is always something new to share.

My cousin’s husband John, an avid cook, shared this recipe with me. He prepared Tomato Paella as part of a multi-coursed dinner we enjoyed the last night of their visit. It won rave reviews from everyone.

The recipe is a Mark Bittman original. It appeared in The Minimalist column in the New York Times three years ago, and fiercely circulated the ‘net for its spectacular taste and simplicity. Somehow, it eluded me then, but, no matter, I’m on to it now! I couldn’t wait to make the dish myself.

Bittman stresses that it can be prepared with any variety of rice—a short grain style preferred—-and you can take the seasoning in a number of directions. If you have some nice threads of saffron, for a true Spanish take, please put them. Or perhaps smoked paprika. Or herbal notes: thyme, oregano, basil.

Because, really, this dish is about showcasing The Tomato.

Or, in my case, The TOMATOES.

Earlier this spring, I had planted a variety of heirlooms–green zebras, black zebras, cherokee purples, lemon boys, brandywines, sungolds. Each plant has, to date, produced only modestly, but the other day I realized, after picking, that I had a splendid representative from each plant.

What better way to use them than baked on top of savory arborio rice?

My resulting “paella” was a wonder. All the varied nuances of tomato goodness could be discerned in each bite, as each heirloom made its contribution: mellow and bright candied reds, acidy green, fragrant lemon-citrus.

It’s a visual treat, too.

I cooked it as part of Sunday brunch, served alongside poached farm eggs.

Of course, it is just as lovely as dinner side dish, as John had prepared, complementary to the salmon I smoked on our Big Green Egg. I recommend it too, as a meal’s centerpiece, served with an arugula salad, splashed with sherry vinegar.

The original recipe calls for 2 cups rice to 3 1/2 cups liquid. Considering it was just two of us eating, I decreased that to 1 cup rice/2 1/4 cups liquid. I kept the remainder of the recipe intact–tomato paste, garlic, onion, paprika. And, the quantity of tomatoes! I didn’t want to cut down on that!

Add a few sprigs of fresh thyme and a drizzle of olive oil over the top before it goes into the oven…

TOMATO TOMATO PAELLA adapted from Mark Bittman
1 T. Olive Oil
1 T. Butter
1/2 medium Onion, small dice
1 T. minced Garlic
2 t. Paprika
1 T. Tomato Paste
2 c. Water
1/4 c. Red Wine (opt.)
Salt and Black Pepper
1 1/4 c. Arborio Rice
Assorted Heirloom Tomatoes: Brandywine, Lemon Boy, Green Zebra
(about 1 1/2 lbs.) Sliced into wedges

1 9″ skillet that is Oven-Safe, like a cast-iron skillet, 2″ deep

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Dissolve tomato paste in water. Heat skillet on medium, and add butter and olive oil. Saute onions until translucent, and add minced garlic. Stir in rice and paprika, stirring until the grains are coated. Add water solution and wine, stirring well. Season with a little salt and black pepper.

Bring to a simmer. Remove from heat and place tomato wedges in circles around the top. Cover the top well with the wedges. Place uncovered into the oven and bake for 15 minutes.

Tomatoes will brown and caramelize, their juices encasing the rice. Check for rice-doneness–the grain will be firm, but nicely puffed.

Serves 6.

Oh, how we Love our Tomatoes.

A few summers ago, Maggie’s garden caught her by surprise. All at once, her zucchini plants began producing in quantities that quickly grew beyond manageable. Garden Leviathans!

Sure, everything started off fine: Maggie kept up, preparing dinners of ratatouille, breakfasts of zucchini muffins and quickbreads, handing out baskets of lumbering green squash to her friends. But, it didn’t let up. Each day she was shocked to find a mob, a frenzy, a zeal of zucchini!

“A garden will teach you,” she later said. “That’s the last year I plant them all at the same time. Stagger your plantings. Or have a kitchen factory ready to go.”

Sound advice. But, in the meantime, she wanted to find some other clever use for all those zukes. She had been making bread-and-butter pickles with her modest cucumber crop…..couldn’t zucchinis work just as well in their place?

A little scrolling around the internet confirmed her suspicions.

And, she had all the pickle-fixin’s in her pantry: cider vinegar, sugar, and salt, plus mustard seed, celery seed, and bright finger-staining turmeric.

In dervish-mode, she swirled those ingredients together, and boiled them long enough to make glazy brine.

While the brine cooled, she sliced her zucchini trove into rings, layering gallon sized jars. She poured the sweet-sour liquid, screwed on the lids, and stashed her pickle experiment into the fridge. Then, she let out a sigh of relief. Now, the wait….

It takes about a week for them to “cure.” Seems pretty simple, doesn’t it?

Soon after the curing time was complete, I drove out to her country place for a visit. She couldn’t wait to have me sample her discovery.

I wasn’t sure about them—but one bite and I was sold. Tender yet crunchy, sweet-sour flavored with mild mustard seed bite. They tasted better than “regular” cucumber-based pickles. I loved the pickled onion in there, too. Versatile:You can make them with different zucchini varieties. Like Black Beauty, Cocozelle, or those charmingly named Buttersticks.

We had them for lunch. It was the sort of lunch that you have in the country on a hot summer afternoon. You sit in the kitchen with the lights off. You select your garden’s finest, and eat to be cool.

Like a ripe peach, sliced into a small bowl and topped with yogurt.

And fat red slab of tomato, open-faced on toasted whole grain bread, (a swipe of mayo) topped with a few coins of zucchini pickle, and onion.

Hmmmmm…….I’m feeling cooler already.

MAGGIE’S REFRIGERATOR ZUCCHINI PICKLES

Layer into a clean gallon glass jar:
3 quarts Zucchini, sliced 1/4″ thick
1 quart Onions, sliced in 1/4″ thick rings or half-rings

Bring to a boil, and continue boiling for 5 minutes:
4 cups Sugar
2 cups Cider Vinegar
1 cup Water
1/4 cup Kosher Salt
1 1/2 teaspoons Celery Seed
1 1/2 teaspoons Mustard Seed
1 teaspoon Turmeric

Allow to cool, then pour over zucchini and onions. Cap and refrigerate.
Let them sit for a week, so that the flavors will develop.
Yield: a little over 3 quarts

This will keep for months, if they last that long!

Zephyr is a breeze, a mild yet refreshing wind, hailing from the west. It is so named after Zephuros, mythic Greek god of the West Wind—considered the most benevolent of The Winds.

Zephyr is also a unique summer squash, a two-toned slender beauty: yellow with faint white striping and green-tipped at the blossom end. Do you know it? Tallahassee May introduced me to this delicious vegetable several years ago through her Fresh Harvest Co-op, and I look forward to its fleeting appearance each summer.

I am quite taken with Zephyr. Aside from its distinctive look–indeed attractive–it possesses other prized qualities worth this gush.

The flavor is slightly sweet and nutlike. Its texture is firm, yet pliable: not the least seedy, or watery. You can easily slice it into long ribbons that will retain their lovely shape in a saute.

With a bounty of squashes now filling our gardens, CSA baskets, and farmers markets, I have been considering different ways to highlight this paragon of summer in dishes, without becoming squash-weary.

And, I could readily imagine ribbons of zephyr squash tangled with ribbons of papparadelle. Soon after I had this notion, I came across a zucchini-shrimp-linguine recipe on Tracy’s blog, Amuse-Bouche for Two that followed a similar line of thought. Serendipity! That cinched it. Really, there is nothing new; we are all accessing from the same wondrous creative fount.

The recipe that I put together is ridiculously simple, and enormously satisfying: all designed to let the toasted goodness of Zephyr to breeze through….

Sauteed with some onion in a combination of butter and olive oil, the julienned strips make a lively tangle on their own.

Those interlacing ribbons like a liberal grind of black pepper. I think the dish is very good, even at this basic stage, but a crumble of chevre….even better.

It lightly coats while imparting bites with creamy tang.

I brought a bowl of this to a Sunday covered dish supper, where we all gathered to view slides of a Colorado Trail hike from our friends, Jen and Jenn. It was a favorite–even with the wee ones—who doesn’t love a toasty tangle of noodles?

ZEPHYR RIBBON PASTA
1 medium Onion, sliced thin
4 Zephyr Summer Squash, sliced lengthwise into thin strips
2 T. Butter
1 T. Olive Oil
Sea Salt and Fresh Ground Black Pepper
8 oz. Papparadelle or Fettuccini
2 oz. Goat Cheese

Heat skillet and melt butter with olive oil. Saute onion until translucent. Add julienned strips of squash. Stir until the squash is coated with butter/oil, and gets tangled up with the onion. Cook for 5-7 minutes, until soft and tender, but still with bite.

Boil pasta in salted water, according to package directions. Drain, but reserve a cup of pasta water.

Toss ribbon pasta into skillet with zephyr. Toss well, adding some reserved pasta water as needed. Season with salt and black pepper. Add crumbled goat cheese and serve.

Serves 4-6

When we moved from New York to Nashville oh-so-many years ago, I was eleven years old: tall and awkward, somewhat shy, and firmly entrenched in my picky eating ways. My first impressions of The South ranged from confusion to dismay.

I had a hard time understanding some of the lingo and the accent. I didn’t know that when our neighbor Lola Newman said, “‘Y’all fixin’ ta go to the thee-ay-ter?” she was asking if we were going to the movies.

And there were foods (eek!) I had never seen before, like pickled okra and chow-chow, beans and greens cooked down in ham hock, skillet cornbread. I remember my picky girl horror when Lola Newman welcomed us with a dish called Summer Squash Pie.

“What is That?” I asked my sister Carole, who was the antithesis of picky eating. I was certain that she purposefully ate things like green olive mustard sandwiches just to gross me out.

“This?” she replied, holding up a forkful of the pie. “It’s yellow squash. It’s a vegetable but it’s sweet. I like it. Wanna bite?” she snickered, in full knowledge of my impending response.

“Yuck. No.”

I have to laugh at myself, having come to embrace The South, its foods, easy-speak, and sensibilities. It’s become my home. And, I believe that I would really enjoy Lola’s pie now, although I imagine she put sugar in it, and I would not.

Today, I made a kind of squash pie–no crust, or eggs, though. It was too hot for that. I layered young uncooked yellow squash (that I grew myself!!) with sweet corn that I bought at our farmers market. It’s more of a gratin. Bechamel sauce seasoned with onion and thyme held it together.

We enjoyed it, served with a piece of crusty bread covered with a fat slice of tomato. Our supper was light and summery-sweet, sooooo good. I think Lola would have liked it, too.

SUMMER SQUASH-SWEET CORN GRATIN
1 T. Butter
2-3 young Yellow Squash, sliced very thin into circles
2-3 ears Sweet Corn, kernels cut off the cob, cob scraped
1 T. Butter
1 c. Water
1/4 c. diced onion
1 T. Butter
1 T. All Purpose Flour
a few sprigs of Thyme
Salt and Black Pepper
1 Cup Lowfat Milk
Grated Gruyere or Parmesan Cheese

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Coat 9″ pie pan with 1 T. melted butter, and lay out squash in partly overlapping concentric rings until the bottom of the pie pan is covered. This will use about half of your squash.

Melt 1 T. butter in a skillet; add corn and corn scrapings. Season with salt and black pepper, and stir in 1 cup water. Simmer for about 3-5 minutes–corn will partially cook and release more “corn milk.”

In a small saucepan, melt 1 T. butter and saute onions until translucent. Stir in flour and cook until it dissolves and is incorporated in the butter. Stir in milk, thyme leaves, and season with salt and pepper. Stir until bechamel becomes thick. Remove from heat.

Spoon corn and its juices over the layer of squash. Spoon and spread bechamel over the corn. Add another layer of squash, and repeat the process. Garnish the top with a center floret of squash circles and sprinkle cheese over all.

Bake for about 40 minutes, or until liquid reduces and thickens. Cool slightly and serve. Serves 2 generously.

Listen, what if I told you that the festive-as-confetti salad above was created using the stovetop for, say, five minutes. That’s the time it takes to boil less than 2 cups of water, right? Five minutes of cooking.

Sounds pretty compelling, especially when you consider the oppressive, in-the-nineties heat that barged in last week like an unwelcome guest—and has yet to pack up and leave.

But credible?

BELIEVE! This Too Good To Be True recipe is bonafide: Healthy, full of intriguing flavors and textures, Curried Fruit Couscous also requires almost no cooking.

This fabulous recipe comes courtesy of Michele Watkins Knaus, a chef and food activist currently living in Portland, Oregon. She worked for me several years ago, filling in while my right arm Tonya was on maternity leave. Later, we catered Michele’s wedding, and this was one of her specialties that she asked us to prepare.

The basic recipe serves 6-8 generously, and readily multiplies: Doubled, Quadrupled, Times Twelve, Times Twenty—-it’s one of those caterer’s dream recipes that can be made in mass quantities with exceptional results.

You can serve it mounded in large bowl, or molded into pretty individual servings. Eat it by itself, or along with salad greens. Or, take it uptown: Use it as a foundation for fancy-pants grilled sea scallops, or butter-sauteed trout.

Don’t be daunted by the list of ingredients. You already have some of the essentials in your pantry. For the rest, with a little forethought, and a quick trip to the grocery, you can assemble everything you need. The beauty of the dish is in the couscous itself.

Boiled water poured over the couscous in a bowl, stirred and sealed, cooks it to fluffy perfection. While the tiny pasta grains sit in that bowl, effortlessly absorbing the water, you can shred carrots, slice dried apricots, chop flat leaf parsley.

The dressing whisks up in a heartbeat. The yogurt binds the oil and vinegar, and serves as a terrific vehicle for the spice. Vegan friends can substitute a soy based yogurt; that’s all it takes to make it vegan friendly.

You may want to double the Curried Yogurt Dressing, and save half to drizzle over some salad greens, or grilled chicken, alongside your couscous.

The colorful array combines to make a satisfying summer dish, spice and sweet, fast and cool. Thanks, Michele!

CURRIED FRUIT COUSCOUS adapted from Michele Watkins Knaus

The Couscous
1 ½ cups Couscous
1 ½ cups Water
½ t. Kosher Salt

The Curried Yogurt Dressing
¼ c. Plain Yogurt
¼ cup Olive Oil
1 t. White Balsamic or White Wine Vinegar
1 t. Curry Powder
½ t. Turmeric
1 t. Kosher Salt
1 t. fresh ground Black Pepper
dash of crushed Red Pepper Flakes

The Salad Fruits-Veggies-Nuts
½ c. Carrots, shredded
½ c. Flat Leaf Parsley,coarsely chopped
½ c. Dried Apricots, slivered and diced
½ c. Golden Raisins
¼ c. Toasted Almonds, chopped
3 Scallions, chopped, green tops included

Place couscous into medium bowl . Add ½ t. to 1 ½ c. water and bring to a boil. Pour over the couscous and quickly stir. Cover tightly with plastic wrap—the couscous will absorb the water and be cooked in 5 minutes. Remove wrap and fluff with a fork.

Whisk together: yogurt, olive oil, vinegar, curry powder, turmeric, salt, black and red peppers. Pour over the couscous, and stir until all is well coated.

Add all the dried fruits, nuts, carrots, parsley and stir well. Serve in a large bowl, or make individual molds by pressing the salad firmly into a small bowl, and then invert onto a salad plate.

Serves 6-8

This tasty dish is the result of neighbors passing on the street.

Bill was making his early morning march up one side of Belmont when Ray, in similar purposeful stride down the other, hailed him with this request.

“We’re going to be in California later this week for Quinn and Jane’s wedding,” he said. “My beans are coming in. Blueberries too. They’ll need to be picked. I figure you and Nancy would actually go pick them.”

Yep, Ray figured right.

An avid urban gardener for many years, Ray has always cultivated meticulous–and flourishing– vegetable beds in his backyard. Last year he gave me a couple of pounds of his pride-and-joy: haricots verts, delicate green beans that you barely steam in preparation—so good!

This past Sunday morning, before the day heated up beyond bearing, Bill and I slipped into Ray’s garden. Boy, is it impressive: Carefully mulched tomato plants, flowering, filling up their cages… lush fat bushes of genovese basil…umbrella-like leaves of squash plants, shielding the baby yellow crooknecks and striped cocozelle Italians from the baking sun. And, a formidable construction of frame and chicken wire protecting the many blueberry bushes from the onslaught of greedy birds.

We found the beans growing in compact rows, now laden with two varieties: those sleek french verts, and sweet yellow wax. It didn’t take long to amass a pretty pile of them.

Aren’t they gorgeous?

When we finished picking, we hurried home. These begged to be cooked and eaten immediately. And, I had a plan for them, inspired by friend Maggie. She combines young green beans with new potatoes in a creamy aioli type dressing made with olive oil, garlic, pecorino, and a smidge of Hellmans mayo. She and I made it for lunch one day last summer after puttering in her garden, picking her beans. It was one of those simple memorable meals—fresh as it gets.

To the batch I like to add some chopped flat leaf parsley and onion. If you have any chives, or chive flowers, put that in too! But, make no mistake, the little bit of mayo is key. It adds more body—more creaminess—-to the dressing.

It’s a perfect match with the creamy nature of those new potatoes, which break down ever-so-slightly, post boil: Both coat the beans with terrific flavor.

You’ll appreciate not only the simplicity but the versatility of our bean-potato meld. It makes a delicious side dish, and is equally satisfying on a bed of greens, as a main meal.

It works served slightly warm, or room temperature. Eat it as soon as you make it–we are going for real immediacy here.

But, I love this just as much the next day, chilled. The flavors get the chance to settle in nicely. The garlic mellows. The pecorino provides a salty sharp surprise.

And the beans….mmm…they retain sweet pop and crunch.

So, a shout-out and praise to neighbor Ray. He’s growing some righteous lean, supreme, green-and-yellow beans! Salut!

Green Bean-Yellow Bean-New Potato Salad
1 lb. fresh Green and/or Yellow Wax Beans
1 lb. Baby Yukon Gold (or any other small new potato)
Garlic Scapes, or 2 cloves Garlic, minced
4 Green Onions, sliced
1/4 c. chopped Italian Parsley
1/4 c. shredded Pecorino Romano (large shreds, or shaves)
1/4 c. Olive Oil
3 T. Hellman’s Mayo
1 T. White Wine Vinegar
Sea Salt and Black Pepper to taste

Cook new potatoes in lightly salted water until done—tender when pierced with a knife tip. (6-8 minutes)

Bring a wide skillet filled with water to a boil. Plunge in the beans, blanche for 1-2 minutes and remove. (Haricots verts will cook in a minute, or less. The yellow wax beans take longer.)

In a bowl, whisk together olive oil, garlic, onions, parsley, pecorino, and mayo. Stir in vinegar. Season with salt and black pepper.

Slice warm potatoes into a bowl. Add blanched beans. Pour dressing over all and toss until well coated. Taste for salt and pepper. Serves 4 as main dish, or 8 sides.

An alternate—and excessive—title for this post could be ” Taming Unruly Arugula” combined with “Some Truly Delicious Foods Just Aren’t That Pretty.” But, for brevity….

Summer heat descended on us this past weekend, humidity bisque-thick, temperatures hovering around 90. We had spent a good part of the day gardening in that heat, weeding around sunflower starts (including mammoths!), planting squashes (happily located seeds for Cocozelle, those tasty striped Italians), feeding tomatoes (nine different heirlooms, their nametags lost. Can’t wait to see how they’ll turn out).

After all the garden work, we were hungry—but in the mood for an easy summertime meal—the kind where you idle around the shaded backyard table, sip water spritzed with lime, graze on small bites and watch the sky shift into dusk.

I had in mind two simple things: crudites with some sort of arugula pesto—my little garden has gone rangey with arugula–and baked radicchio with gorgonzola and hazelnuts, a Sienese dish recalled in my last post.

In this hot weather, my arugula has begun to bolt, taking on more pungency. I wanted to make a pesto that would temper those bitter, often harsh notes, and provide a savory green dip for my sugar snap peas. I’ve discovered some tips, when working with super-hot rocket for pesto.

1. Roast the garlic cloves to mellow them
2.”Sweat” some scallions for sweetness
3. Snap off thick arugula stem–extra bitterness tends to reside there
4. Process with a fat glob of Mascarpone cheese–wow.

The resulting Arugula-Mascarpone Pesto was terrific–creamy rich with green peppery bite. The unruly arugula had been tamed!

We loved spooning it over baby new potatoes, and scooping it up with sweet carrot sticks. Chilled, this pesto sets up to a firm spread, which you’ll enjoy slapping onto a slice of crusty bread.

The Baked Radicchio with Gorgonzola and Hazelnuts has, visually, a beautiful beginning; its terse list of ingredients and rapid assembly time seem to portend something wonderful.

I had forgotten that, like many gorgeous purple vegetables–think eggplant, certain varieties of bell pepper, string beans–the brilliant color goes Dull Brown in baking. It’s inescapable. Do not be dismayed when you pull this out of the oven! As my friend Wendy says, “Can’t even drink it pretty.”

No matter! Your efforts will be rewarded with great flavors: quickly, the radicchio leaves become supple in baking, the gorgonzola melts into a lavish salty puddle flecked with crunchy bits of hazelnuts. If you like, drizzle each leaf with a little balsamic syrup for sweet acid zing. You’ll find the stuffed leaves to be quite delicious warm or room temperature. So, no worries. Settle in with your late spring graze, and keep a lookout for Venus, the evening star.

Arugula Mascarpone Pesto
1 bundle Arugula, destemmed
3 cloves Roasted Garlic
2 Spring Onions, chopped, warmed in olive oil until softened
2 T. Olive Oil
4 oz. Mascarpone Cheese
Sea Salt to taste

Yield: 1 cup

In a food processor fitted with a swivel blade, pulse greens, garlic, onion, olive oil and salt together until coarsely mixed. Add mascarpone, and process until well-blended, with flecks of arugula. Taste for salt. Serve at room temperature with crudite. If chilled, it will set up, like a spread, very nice on toast with sliced chicken.

Baked Radicchio with Gorgonzola and Hazelnuts
(radicchio al forno con gorgonzola e noci)

1 head Radicchio, cleaned, leaves separated
Olive Oil
Black Pepper
4 oz. Gorgonzola, shaved or crumbled
4 oz. Hazelnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Lightly brush the back of each leaf with olive oil and place onto a baking sheet pan. Sprinkle with black pepper.
Place cheese into each leaf, and top with chopped hazelnuts.
Bake for 10-12 minutes–until gorgonzola is bubbly, and leaves are browned.
Drizzle with Balsamic Syrup and serve. Makes 12-15 leaves.

Balsamic Syrup
1/2 cup Balsamic Vinegar

Pour vinegar into a small, shallow skillet and cook it on medium heat until it is reduced by half. Remove and let cool–it will syrup-like, and sweet.
Any unused portion will keep well in the refrigerator.

This past weekend I was in Highlands, North Carolina, a charming mountain community that is home to a number of high-end restaurants. I was there in an unusual capacity—dispatched, you might say, to be one of three judges for their first-ever Iron Chef style culinary competition.

Who would be “King of the Mountain?” Four area chefs faced off, armed with kitchen staples, a box of Secret Ingredients, their sharpened French knives and wits, trying to execute as many daring dishes possible within a 40 minute time period. Yikes, 40 minutes!

And then, we judges got to sample, and score, on the basis of Taste, Presentation, and Creativity….in what seemed seconds.

Indeed, these chefs came up with some exceptional delectables. For one heat, the secret ingredient was sushi-grade Red Grouper. Witness: a gorgeous Grouper Carpaccio, translucent fillet dressed with peppery olive oil, basil and fennel. Grouper and crawfish in a spicy African Peanut Stew, presented in the hollow of a halved coconut. Grilled baby eggplant, mango, and grouper salad in a gingery-caramel-tamari-based dressing that was ultimate Umami.

Inspiring!

It wasn’t until the morning after the competition, while driving the winding way down the mountain, that I started to wonder, what would I have made in 40 minutes…

I didn’t arrive at any great answers. And when I arrived home, I made this Polenta Torta.

Now, even though it is not King of the Mountain caliber, it would score very high points for taste. Mushroom ragu can be as rich and complex as a meat bolognese, and in much less time.

Presentation and creativity score well in the acceptable range.

And, it can be made and assembled in that 40 minute time period…if you’ve got your sharp knife and wits about you.

Polenta Torta layered with Spinach and Mushroom Ragu

For the Polenta:

4 cups Water
1 cup Polenta
1 t. Sea Salt
1 t. good Olive Oil

Bring water a boil and stir in polenta and salt. Stir continuously until polenta incorporates into the liquid. Simmer, stirring occasionally.

Polenta is very forgiving. If it gets too thick, thin with more water. If it’s too thin, just simmer along and it will thicken up. When it is a good, almost pourable consistency, remove from heat and stir in the olive oil.

Mushroom Ragu:
1 T. Olive Oil
1 T. Butter
1 medium Onion, small dice
½ Yellow or Red Bell Pepper, small dice
2 cloves minced Garlic
12 oz. coarsely chopped assorted Mushrooms: portabellos, shiitakes, oyster, cremini…you don’t have to get all of these, 2 or 3 varieties are nice
4-6 sprigs fresh Thyme
Salt
Black Pepper
¼ cup Red Wine
1 cup diced Tomatoes and juice
½ cup low fat Milk

In a skillet under medium heat, melt butter and olive together. Saute onions and peppers until softened; stir in garlic, mushrooms, and thyme. Season with salt and pepper. Saute until mushrooms brown. Add red wine, tomatoes and juice. Stir well, scraping up any browned bits in the skillet. Simmer and stir. Mushrooms will release their liquid and sauce will acquire a pretty reddish-brown hue. Stir in milk; taste for seasonings and adjust.

Spinach Sauté
½ lb. fresh Spinach
2 cloves minced Garlic
Olive Oil
shredded Pecorino Romano

Simple: Heat the oil, toss in the garlic for 30 seconds, then add the spinach leaves. Toss around in the pot until the leaves are coated and collapse. (another minute or two) Remove from heat and dust with a little romano cheese.

Assembly

In a 9×13 casserole dish coated with olive oil, spread a layer of polenta. Follow that with a layer of spinach, then a layer of mushroom ragu. Sprinkle some shredded pecorino romano at this point, if you like.

Repeat the process—all layers again.

At this point, if you are making things ahead of time, you can refrigerate the casserole. It will be ready to bake when you are.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake for about 30 minutes–until browned and bubbly.

For my Vegan Friends:
Polenta Torta lends itself to numerous variations.
Simply delete the butter and romano; no milk in the mushroom sauce.
It won’t be quite as Lush—but still very good.
Layers of swiss chard and marinara sauce would be Delish.
And, Pesto layers? Absolutely.