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We've had some type of tomato salad with dinner for the past three nights which I feel is a telltale sign that it’s the end of July. On our trip back from eastern Washington Sunday night, we stopped for an early meal at Delancey before heading to Qwest to watch the Sounders match. As a preface to our sausage pizza, we sampled the tomato salad with feta. Dinner on Monday paired tomatoes and fresh corn with sliders as we sat in the backyard enjoying the warm sun. Julienned zucchini was in today's summer vegetable mix.
The Tuesday farmers market in Tacoma is at 6th Ave, technically on Pine Street behind Masa. While there, I grabbed a couple ears of corn, as I knew we had some gorgeous little tomatoes left over from the prior evening's supper. In my market bag, six summer squash of varying colors mingled with the corn, some basil (as I keep killing the basil I attempt to grow), a long, thin cucumber, some tiny eggplant that were so purple they were almost black, and a half pint of raspberries,. Between us, the berries never made it home as they became an impromptu afternoon snack which left E wondering why there was an empty half pint container sitting atop the balance of the produce.
I know I've mentioned this before, but sometimes I feel like I'm cheating in the summer: dinner from sliced vegetables? But then I think that is the essence of fresh, local, quality produce and is the reason we can suffer through months of root vegetable and brassica monotony. For now, I'll put my feelings aside and continue to serve what is simple and fresh, and what I'll be pining for the other 11 months of the year.
Zucchini, Corn & Tomato Salad
Serves 2-3
1 small zucchini or summer squash, about 6-7" long and 1" in diameter
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1 large ear of freshly picked corn
1 cup of cherry, pear or grape tomatoes
4-5 basil leaves
Shallot vinaigrette (below)
Using a mandoline or peeler, julienne the squash
Toss the squash with the salt and set it in a colander for about 15-20 minutes
Meanwhile, remove the husk and peel from the corn
Cut the kernels from the cob
Slice the tomatoes in halves or quarters, depending on the size
Rinse and dry the squash
Place the squash, then the corn and tomatoes in a plate or a shallow bowl
Chiffonade the basil
Season the salad gently with salt and top with a modest amount of the vinaigrette
Finish with basil
Shallot Vinaigrette
To me, vinaigrette is a dynamic dressing that can vary based on the cook's palate or the application. One thing is for sure, I always like to macerate my shallot in the acid for about 15 minutes prior to combining it with other ingredients. Use these measurements as a suggestion and prepare to taste. You'll have dressing left after the salad which can keep in a tighly covered jar refrigerated for about a week.
3 tablespoons Champagne vinegar
1/4 cup finely chopped shallot
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Macerate the shallot in the vinegar with the salt for about 15 minutes
Add the pepper and whisk in the olive oil slowly to create an emulsion
Taste for seasoning
With all this talk of raspberry yogurt pops and vegan strawberry ice cream, I got thinking I need to give some alternative frozen treats a spin. My standard ice cream is a vanilla-flavored Philadelphia-style base which requires nothing more than warming some cream with sugar and a vanilla bean. Since there's no custard to make, and no eggs to temper, the mixture is ready to chill in minutes and ready to freeze not long after.
Although vanilla is delicious, and goes with practically every dessert, reading Molly's and David's posts gave me a craving for a berry treat. It is possible that due to my pregnancy I'm easily persuaded right now to make anything sweet and frozen. Regardless, on the counter there was a half flat of berries we picked up at the Proctor Farmers Market Saturday that I knew would work perfectly.
Now, let me preface this by saying I have never been a huge fan of frozen yogurt, especially the hard-serve kind, but after extracting my usual ice cream-making sample directly from the canister towards the end of processing, I knew I would have to convert. Let's be clear: this is not a broad conversion by any means, just that I will eat any frozen yogurt recipe that David Lebovitz produces. His yogurt is made with blueberries, and although there were some in the flat, I chose to go with his raspberry variation. My yogurt base was a raspberry-blackberry combination and let me assure you the mixture did not disappoint.
In terms of ice cream makers, I've used a single model for years which my mom gave me one Thanksgiving when I had decided it was imperative cranberry sorbet be part of my holiday menu. (I'm so wise to want to draft a menu with items for which I don't have the proper kitchen equipment.) It turned out to be an excellent gift. On many occasions since then, I've enjoyed the ice cream maker as well as that all important sorbet, and in the past month alone I've made my favorite vanilla twice, tried a fennel custard from Olaiya via Molly, and, most recently, the yogurt. I'd say that's not a bad run seeing the Puget Sound can only claim a handful of days with temperatures high enough to respectably call themselves summer.
Mixed Berry Frozen Yogurt
Adapted from The Perfect Scoop
Ingredients
1 1/2 cups raspberries
1 cup blackberries
1 cup Greek yogurt
1 cup whole milk yogurt
3/4 cup evaporated cane sugar
juice of 1 lime
2 teaspoons raspberry liquor such as framboise
Puree the berries, yogurt, sugar, juice and liquor in the food processor until smooth
Strain the mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a bowl
Chill for 1 hour
Process in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions
Spoon into a quart-size container and press plastic wrap directly on top
Freeze for about a week or so
Vanilla Ice Cream
Adapted from Barefoot Contessa Parties
Although I've always made this with all cream, the Philadelphia-style vanilla ice cream in The Perfect Scoop recommends using a third whole milk, which I'll try next time.
Ingredients
3 cups heavy cream
2/3 cups sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Seeds scraped from 1 vanilla bean
Heat the cream, sugar, vanilla, and vanilla seeds in a small saucepan until the sugar is dissolved and the mixture no longer feels gritty
Strain the mixture through a sieve and chill well
Process in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions
Spoon into a quart-size container and press plastic wrap directly on top
Freeze for about a week or so
What's cooking? You're probably thinking not much here at fine eats! It has come to my attention that over four(!) months have passed since I've posted anything. Although we've kept busy in the kitchen, there's just not many photos to prove it. However, I don't come to you empty handed. There is exciting news: At the end of October, E and I will welcome a tiny little member to our family, whose gender will remain a mystery until then.
Although summer is starting slowly, all of the local farmers markets are open and bustling. Spring's asparagus is still thriving as berries begin to cover market tables. The Broadway market sets up a few blocks from our building and many people take a walk through each week to see what the vendors have on display. After my trip today, I came to find that not everyone is familiar with fava beans and most had not cooked with these fleeting legumes. This was evidenced by people eating enormous raw beans popped from the pod, their skins intact. Clearly, they were not impressed by the favas' flavor or texture.
I first came across the use of fava beans in Middle Eastern and Italian cuisines. I know, they are a bit of work to prepare and, if I must come clean, I was cursing them last week when the tiny ones where slipping out of my fingers onto the tile floor. (I barely salvaged enough to make this spread.) However, if you have some time, and hold the promise of good meal, its not so bad to be deep in concentration with nothing more than your beans, plucking them out of the pod, blanching them and ultimately slipping them from their skins. I remind myself to cherish quiet moments like this, as I know shortly they'll be replaced with utter mayhem.
After learning of my co-workers' disgust for the favas, I begged they give them a fair shake. I quickly suggested the preparation below for a simple representation of the bean's grassy flavor and creamy texture. Plus, who doesn't like grilled bread and with toppings? If these people are out there, someone please prove they exist.
If the weather is nice and you're cooking out, put the bread on while the grill is heating, and if not, place the slices into the toaster or under the broiler to get some color. The fresh ricotta makes a difference in my opinion and can be found at some markets, but standard ricotta will do as long as the cheese is seasoned a bit. And if for some strange reason after trying the favas this way you don't absolutely adore them, I suppose you could swap them for some other vegetable. If you must.
Crostini with Fresh Ricotta and Favas
1/2 baguettte, cut into 1/4″ slices and grilled or toasted
3 ounces fresh ricotta
20 fava beans, shelled, blanched and skins removed
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh mint, roughly chopped
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
Salt and pepper to taste
Divide ricotta evenly among toasts
Mix favas with olive oil, mint, salt and red pepper
Top toasts with fava mixture being sure to drizzle the oil over the toasts
Garnish with mint, if desired
I adore polenta and many times when I dine out I choose my entree solely because polenta is on the side. However when I cook it at home, I'm not always as impressed. Until today. In this week's Minimalist column there's a recipe for polenta using an untraditional method which reminds me of making risotto. By starting the corn meal with water in the pan, instead of pouring it steadily streaming it into boiling water, you remove all fear of those dreaded lumps. Adding water a cup at a time ensures even cooking and a creamy texture. With some quickly sautéed shrimp, you've got dinner in 30 minutes.
Perfect Polenta with Shrimp
Polenta
From Mark Bittman
Serves 4
Ingredients
1 cup coarse cornmeal
Kosher salt
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Freshly ground black pepper.
Put cornmeal in a medium saucepan along with 1 1/2 cups water and whisk well to make a slurry; continue whisking mixture to eliminate any lumps. Let sit for 10-15 minutes.
Put pan over medium-high heat, sprinkle with salt and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and continue to cook, whisking frequently and adding water as needed to keep mixture loose and free of lumps, between 3 and 4 more cups.
If mixture becomes too thick, simply add a bit more water; consistency should be similar to sour cream’s.
Polenta will be done in 30 minutes.
Add cheese and butter.
Taste and add salt, if necessary, and lots of pepper.
Sautéed Shrimp with Leeks
Serves 2
Ingredients
2 teaspoons olive oil
1/2 cup chopped leek
Kosher salt
1 teaspoon tomato paste
12 large hrimp
Freshly ground pepper
Juice from half a lemon
Heat oil in a 10" skillet over medium heat
Add leek with a pinch of salt and sauté until golden
Stir in tomato paste and cook for 2 minutes
Season shrimp with salt and pepper
Add shrimp to pan and cook on first side for about two minutes
Flip the shrimp over and cook for about 2 minutes longer
Add lemon juice and scrape up bits from bottom of pan
Taste for seasoning
Serve over polenta
Top with grated parmesan cheese
Yesterday morning it was damp, but mild, a typical start to a winter day in the Pacific Northwest. I enjoyed a hot apple cider as I toured the U District farmers' market, inspecting produce and tasting cheeses. A Savoy cabbage caught my eye and I determined it would be the perfect size for two. With my free hand it was scooped into my arms, where the rugged lacinato kale and a bunch of carrots, their greens still attached, were held against my chest. On a small square table near the register, a basket was piled high with Brussels sprouts, some no larger than a nickel. I freed my arms to sort through the tiny cabbages, all the while deliberating how they'd eventually be prepared.
There were many ideas for the Brussels sprouts, but I knew my intentions for the Savoy cabbage. It was to be sliced thinly and sautéed in butter with a leek cut in the same fashion. Then, after being simmered in cream and stock, I'd stir in some peas and lemon zest just before pouring it over pasta. Now I can't remember how I came across the recipe, but it had been sitting atop the bread box for a couple weeks and there were almost all the ingredients in the house, sans the Savoy cabbage.
With the cabbage at home, we were set for dinner. After the butter warmed in the sauté pan, in went the leeks then the sliced cabbage. I waited until the cabbage had just taken on color, but next time it will be golden and slightly caramelized before the liquid is added. Off the heat, the zest was stirred in with salt and pepper to taste. The mixture was poured over the rigatoni and peas then carefully stirred so the sauce could be absorbed by the pasta, leaving not a trace of liquid in the pot. A sprinkling of salty and nutty Parmiggiano Reggiano crowned each bowl, acting as a counterpoint to the sweet green peas. Pasta always makes a satisfying weeknight meal, and this is no different, as the sauce is just completed as the pasta is moved to the colander.
Rigatoni with Savoy Cabbage and Peas
Adapted from Gourmet, October 2002
Serves 4-6
I can't figure how I got to this recipe, but thanks to the date stamp on the bottom of the page I do know its been in the kitchen since January 12. In addition to letting the cabbage caramelize, I've increased the amount of peas by 1/2 cup. We both love peas and Stahlbush Farms has an excellent frozen product to satisfy our cravings in winter.
Ingredients
1 pound rigatoni or other medium sized pasta
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 pound Savoy cabbage, quartered lengthwise, core discarded, and leaves very thinly sliced
1 leek, white and light green parts thinly sliced (1 cup)
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 cups thawed frozen peas
Grated zest of one lemon
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Parmesan cheese, grated
Cook pasta in a 6- to 8-quart pot of boiling salted water until al dente
While pasta is cooking, heat butter in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over moderately high heat until foam subsides, then sauté cabbage and leeks, stirring, golden at the edges, about 8 minutes
Add chicken broth and cream and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until cabbage is tender, about 2 minutes
Remove from heat and stir in zest, salt, and pepper.
Ladle out 1/2 cup pasta cooking water and reserve
Drain pasta in a colander and return to pot with peas
Combine cabbage mixture with pasta and 1/4 cup reserved pasta water
If pasta looks dry, moisten with some of remaining water
Serve with grated parmesan
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