Not Guilty!

All summer long, I have suffered from Vegetable Guilt.  It happens like this: it's one of those rare days when the mercury falls short of 90 degrees.  The farmer's market is in town.  I show up, and tempted by all the spanking fresh produce, I load up my basket.  No sooner do I get it home when I learn the forecast calls for eight days in a row of "unseasonably warm" temperatures. 

What to do when each day seems more stupefyingly hot than the one before? When you are still wiping away sweat at 10 p.m.? When the kitchen reaches inferno-like temperatures by mid-afternoon, and the thought of turning on even a burner at dinntertime is as appealing as belly flopping into a pool of lava?  Order Chinese, of course, and try to ignore the faint cries coming from the direction of the vegetable bin.  The droopy carrots, wrinkled beans, limp lettuce, and softening shallots are clamoring for your attention and all you can do is eat an egg roll? 

Well, not this time.  For the past week, a small bunch of rainbow chard had been accusing me of neglect every time I opened the refrigerator door.  It was a balmy 82 degrees and overcast, and I could actually imagine turning on the oven.  I would make potato and swiss chard enchiladas, the most ambitious project I had tackled in weeks. 

 

The homemade enchilada sauce was startlingly delicious, and by far the best part of this dish.  It was really easy to make, too.  My Dad had foisted four pounds of ripe-to-bursting tomatoes from his garden on me (no Vegetable Guilt for him!).   I chose two of the largest from the windowsill, split them in half, and broiled them, along with some garlic, until slightly charred.  Then, into the blender they went with a large chipotle pepper.  A little salt and pepper, a drizzle of olive oil, and that was it.  This was a sweet and smoky concoction that would also make a great smooth salsa for chips. 

Tomato Chipotle Sauce

2 large tomatoes

2 large garlic cloves, peeled

1 large chipotle pepper

Extra virgin olive oil

salt

Core the tomatoes and cut them in half.  Put the tomatoes, cut side down, along with the garlic cloves, on a baking tray and drizzle with olive oil.  Broil for about five minutes, or until lightly charred.  Put the tomato halves, garlic cloves, and chipotle pepper in a blender and puree until smooth.  Add salt to taste and a drizzle of olive oil. 

At Last

In the life of a teacher, the first day of summer is as glorious as it gets.  The yammering students, sniping administrators, the months and months cooped up in airless, windowless rooms still hover around the consciousness like a persistent bad dream.  But the days ahead, days and days and days (71 to be exact), are filled with promise.  Whole books will be read, projects completed, day trips taken, meals planned and made.  Anything is possible, especially after a couple of these watermelon margaritas! 

This recipe makes two drinks, but can easily be doubled or tripled.  Heck, quadruple it.  It's summer at last!

Watermelon Margaritas

2 oz. top shelf tequila

2 oz. triple sec, Cointreau or Gran Marnier

Juice of one lime

1 cup of ice cold watermelon chunks, no seeds

A hanful of ice cubes

Put everything in the blender and blend until smooth.  Strain into chilled martini glasses.  Garnish with watermelon slices.  Add a squeeze of lime juice to taste. 

A New Green

I finally made it to my farmer's market this morning, with summer just two days away.  I had in mind a recipe by Mark Bittman from the June 16 edition of the Times for Pasta with Peas, Proscuitto and Lettuce.  Bittman's emphasis was on using small quantities of meat--in this case, crisped prociutto--as a garnish, as opposed to it being the star player in a dish.  Great idea, but what really struck me was the use of lettuce in a hot preparation.  Sure, I've wilted my share of spinach and arugula, even watercress, but lettuce?!  I grabbed a bowling ball sized head of Boston lettuce and some handfuls of fresh peas, determined to try it out. 

I took some liberties with the recipe.  Crisping prociutto is blasphemous in my book, as its soft, satiny texture is what makes it so darn good in the first place.  But crispy bacon--who could quibble with that?  I also added some shrimp, tasty, wild caught, but sort of superfluous, as the lettuce stole the show.  Were you worried it would turn out limp and watery?  I'll admit, I was.  Instead, it was sweet and fresh tasting, and even retained a bit of its crunch at the ribs.  The splash of citrusy sauvignon blanc I used to green the vegetables woke up all the flavors, and tasted good in the glass alongside, as well.  It was the pefect way to welcome summer.

Pasta with Lettuce, Bacon and Shrimp

6 slices of smoky bacon, cut into batons

1 pound pasta (the gemelli I used were perfect)

1 pound shrimp, shelled and deveined

2 tablespoons butter

1 shallot, minced

2 cups of peas, preferably fresh

1 head of Boston lettuce, cored, leaves cut into ribbons

1/2 cup dry white wine

1 cup freshly grated parmesan

Bring a large pot of water to boil.  Meanwhile, cook the bacon batons until crisp.  Drain on paper towels and reserve.  Spill out most of the bacon fat.  Season shrimp with salt and pepper and saute in the fat until just cooked through.  Remove and reserve.  Melt butter in the same skillet and saute the shallot until softened, about 4 minutes.  Turn off the flame while you wait for the pasta to catch up.

When water boils, add pasta and cook until just tender. Drain pasta.  Turn the flame back on under the shallots, and add peas, lettuce and wine.  Cook until lettuce is wilted but still bright green, maybe 5 minutes.  Don't overcook!  Add pasta and shrimp back to pan and cook until just heated through.  Off the heat, toss with parmesan.  Taste for salt and pepper, garnish with bacon, and serve.

Serves 4

Pesto's Cousin

As an apartment dweller, I am limited to growing things in containers--and not even very large containers either.  But that doesn't stop me from dreaming big dreams of pesto, like this one, which I clipped from the back page of Gourmet in August of last year, and just finally got around to making.  So what if I had to pit stop at North Shore Farms for a bunch of the not-so-homegrown stuff to supplement my meager supply?

With roasted almonds standing in for the pine nuts, a cloud of fresh ricotta cheese in place of most of the traditional parmesan, and a garnish of briny kalamata olives, I had a suspicion this would be great. 

I was right.  This was ordinary pesto's suave and sophisticated cousin.  The ricotta lent a velvety texture, and was a wonderful carrier for the basil and garlic flavors, mellowing and smoothing them out.  The olives provided a welcome salty sharpness with each bite.  It was a big bowl of comfort, summer weather style, perfect with a chilled glass of Savignon Blanc.  And the garnish is just-picked from my garden, thank you very much.

Philly Fresh

The first trip to the farmer's market is always a treat, even more so with my sister and her delicious child for company.  At the Glenside Farmer's Market, just north of Philadelphia, I couldn't resist a green corrugated carton of the juiciest just picked strawberries, as far removed from those ginormous, woody supermarket berries as apples are from oranges. 

Another salad: candy sweet strawberries, slightly tart dressing, creamy goat cheese and toasty walnuts--perfection!

Strawberry Salad

Serves 4

2 c. stawberries, hulled, divided

1/4 c. sugar

1/4 c. red wine vinegar

1 T dry mustard

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp lemon juice

1/4 c. mild flavored oil

1/4 c. walnut oil

1 5 oz. log of goat cheese, crumbled

3/4 c. chopped walnuts, toasted

6 oz. greens--baby arugula and spinach are nice

Blend 1 c. strawberries with next 5 ingredients in food processor.  With motor running, add oils.  Taste for balance and seasoning.  Slice remaining cup of strawberries.  Arrange greens on plates.  Top with goat cheese, walnuts, strawberries and dressing. 

Rainy Day Braise

Just when I swore off braising until next fall, the weather took a turn for the truly miserable--cold and blustery, with rain that meant business.  It was the perfect opportunity to try this recipe I had been eying for a while now.  Yes, it's a braise, but it feels lighter for some reason. Maybe because it cooks entirely on top of the stove?  Or could it be the abundance of sweet sour carrots?  Or the welcome freshness of a handful of chopped cilantro sprinkled on top? 

These meaty chicken thighs cozied up to a pile of mashed potatoes, but buttered egg noodles would work too.  And while this was easy, no-mess, one-skillet cooking at its best, this dish would be perfectly welcome at Passover, or any other "special occasion." 

Lighten Up

I am officially sick of soups, stews, braises and baked goods of any kind.  Like everyone else, I am longing for spring and the lighter, fresher eating it brings.  Unfortunately, opening day at my farmer's market is months away, and there isn't much inspiration at my local indoor market either.  Except for blood oranges which, happily, I can't seem to get enough of.  While they used to be something of a novelty, I've been treated to a fairly steady supply over the whole duration of winter.  They really shine in this salad, which is chock full of "things" the way I like my salads to be--medjool dates, roasted almonds, shards of parmesan, and those tart, refreshing orange segments.