A Sweet Summer Treat from the Garden: Lemon Verbena Ice Cream with a Blueberry Swirl

One of the happiest plants in my garden this summer is my Lemon Verbena.  Not only does it not seem to be fazed by our extreme heat and humidity…it is thriving.  I have never grown it before, so its resilience and determination have been a surprise.  Its perky presence on my patio is a welcome sight…  Even if its use were only ornamental, that would be enough for it to have earned it an annual spot in my garden.  But of course, this lovely herb has other uses as well…many of them culinary.

Prior to this summer I was familiar with Lemon Verbena because of its popularity in France (where it goes by the name of Verveine).  It is a favorite there—in both its fresh and dried form—for making tisanes (or herbal tea).   If you have a plant, you can make a tisane to enjoy this evening:  simply snip off a sprig (or two) and place in a cup or mug.  Add water that is just off the boil.  Let steep for five minutes or so…  Then enjoy.  There is no need to remove the leaves before you sip.  The flavor will continue to get stronger as it sits…but not unpleasantly so.

I have enjoyed tisanes made at the home of my best friend from college (a Francophile for as long as I have known her—and who seeks out a Lemon Verbena plant every summer to make her beloved tisane de verveine), but had never considered getting a plant of my own.  But this year, I scheduled a joint cooking class featuring the abundant produce of midsummer with my chef friend Nancy.  Nancy planned to prepare an Italian jam tart and I wanted to make something—preferably ice cream—to go with it.  As I thought about possible flavors, lavender honey came to mind…but I have already taught that.  It was a short leap from lavender (an herb forever associated with France, in my mind) to verveine. 

Lemon Verbena is often used to flavor desserts—either by steeping a liquid (as for the tisane) or infusing some sugar.  To infuse sugar, simply put some bruised leaves in a jar with some sugar, cover tightly and let sit for a couple of weeks—shaking every few days to break up clumps that will begin to form as the sugar absorbs the moisture in the fresh herbs.  When the infusion is done, strain out the herbs and store the sugar tightly covered.  Deborah Madison in her book Local Flavors recommends using about a quarter cup of leaves to infuse two cups of sugar.  The sugar is especially nice used in something simple like a pound cake or shortbread cookies.

Nancy chose to use blueberries (from a local patch) in her jam tart.  The combination of the blueberry tart with the lemon verbena ice cream was fantastic.  I’m guessing that the combination would have been pretty fine with just about any jam made with the abundant berries or stone fruits of midsummer.

Because I liked the combination of the blueberries with the lemon verbena so much, the recipe I’m sharing today is the Lemon Verbena ice cream that I made for class…with a blueberry swirl.  You can of course make the ice cream without the swirl and serve it with any number of the jam and summer fruit based desserts I have posted over the years (jam tart…jam bars…mixed berry crumble bars…)…but I have been enamored by the idea of a marbled lemon verbena ice cream ever since I ran across a lemon verbena and raspberry swirl ice cream while I was working on my recipe.  You could of course make that exact flavor with some homemade raspberry compote.  I also think blackberry (if you strain out the seeds) would make a great combination with the lemon verbena too.

As far as the ice cream itself goes, I used the standard formula that I use in all of my ice creams.  I use half milk and half cream and for every cup of cream/milk I use 2 egg yolks and 50 grams of sugar or honey.  I usually only incorporate a small amount of honey (mostly because I like the way an invert sugar gives a softer and smoother texture to the finished ice cream), but for this ice cream I used half honey so that you can actually taste the honey…it is delicious in combination with the floral taste of the lemon verbena. 

Finally, I have given the amount of lemon verbena leaves by weight.  It is my habit to cook and bake this way and it is a much more accurate way of measuring something like leaves that are kind of difficult to quantify (I’m guessing that one person’s “packed cup” of leaves would not weight the same as another’s).  But since a lot of American bakers still don’t have a scale, I’m including a way to measure without it.  Simply cut the leaves in rough 1/2 inch lengths and then drop them lightly into a 3/4 cup measure.  When you get to the top, you have enough. 

But having said all that, I think you would end up with a pretty fine ice cream if you just grabbed a nice big handful of leaves.  Your plant will be very happy and grow bigger after you have “pruned” it to make ice cream, too.  So much so that you will just have to acquire an evening herb tea habit …. or make some infused sugar (so you can have cake or cookies with your tea) …and of course, make more ice cream.

Lemon Verbena & Honey Ice Cream

with a Blueberry Swirl

1 1/2 c. (225g.) blueberries

1/4 c. (50 g.) sugar

1/2 T. lemon juice

2 c. milk

Pinch of salt

10 g. lemon verbena leaves, cut cross-wise in rough 1/2-inch pieces (you should have about 3/4 c. loosely layered cut leaves)

2 c. cold heavy cream

8 egg yolks

1/2 c. sugar

1/3 c. raw honey (4 oz.)

Wash the blueberries and place them in a small saucepan with the sugar and lemon juice.  Set the pan over moderately high heat and cook, stirring constantly until the sugar is dissolved and the blueberries begin to simmer.  Cook at an active simmer/low boil, stirring occasionally (and mashing the berries as you do), until you have a thick, syrup-y compote.  This will take about 7 to 10 minutes and you should have 3/4 c. compote when you are done..  Cool to room temperature.  Transfer to a covered container and chill until cold.  (Compote may be made several days ahead.  Store in the refrigerator.)

Place the milk and salt in a medium-sized, non-reactive saucepan.  Heat to just under a simmer.  Remove from the heat, add the verbena leaves, cover and let steep for an hour to an hour and a half (depending on how strong you want the flavor to be).

When ready to make the ice cream base, strain out the verbena, pressing hard with a spatula or ladle to extract as much of the liquid as you can. Discard the verbena. Place the chilled heavy cream into a large bowl and place the strainer used to strain out the verbena over this bowl.   

Return the infused milk to the heat and bring to a boil. While the milk is heating, whisk the egg yolks with the sugar until smooth and thick. When the milk boils, temper the egg yolks by gradually whisking in about half to two-thirds of the hot milk. Stir the tempered egg mixture back into the saucepan and place the pan over medium heat. Cook, stirring constantly, until the custard is thickened and forms a path when you draw your finger across the back of the spoon (if you like. you may check the temperature with an instant read thermometer—it should be about 170° to 175°). 

Immediately strain the custard into the bowl of cold cream. Add the honey and stir until the honey has melted. Cover and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled (eight hours or overnight).

Freeze the ice cream in an ice cream machine according to the manufacturer’s instructions. When finished, transfer the ice cream from the churn to a chilled container.  Choose a 1 1/2 to 2 quart container that is shallow and wide. Working quickly, layer in a quarter of the verbena ice cream (smooth it out into an even layer).   Dollop and drizzle a scant third of the blueberry compote.  

It is not necessary to marble it in (it will marble naturally as you scoop it to serve it).  Repeat this layering of a quarter of the ice cream and a scant third of the compote two more times.  Add the remainder of ice cream, once again smoothing it out.  You should have a tablespoon or two of the compote left.  Dollop this over the surface of the ice cream, marbling it in a bit, if you like.  Cover the container and place in the freezer.  Freeze for at least an hour or two before serving.  

Makes about a quart and a half of ice cream.

Note:  My original idea for this ice cream was to just use a homemade blueberry jam for the swirl.  All of the jam makers out there know that this basically means using a substantially higher quantity of sugar (for this quantity of blueberries, around 1/2 cup plus 2 T.).  The texture of the frozen ribbon of blueberries when made with this higher quantity of sugar is quite smooth and suave.  Unfortunately, the overall effect on the ice cream is one of tooth shattering sweetness (at least to my palate). If your berries are very tart, you might consider increasing the sugar in the compote.  For moderately tart blueberries though, I love the counterpoint of the sweet, floral ice cream with the slightly tart swirl of fruit, and I am not bothered by the slight frosty-ness of the swirl when the blueberries are cooked with the lesser amount of sugar. 

Printable Version

A Special Springtime Dessert…Danish Almond Cake with Fresh Strawberry Buttercream and Mixed Berry Compote

If someone were to take a look at my last few posts, they might think this was a blog devoted just to desserts.  In the last five posts I have shared a recipe for chocolate mousse, two cookie recipes and a cake.  And today I’m posting another cake.  I promise to get back into savory mode as we head into spring…but I just couldn’t resist sharing the simple, delicious and oh-so-perfect-for-spring cake that I served to my family for Easter this year.

I have actually shared the recipe for this cake before (in the Holiday Almond Cake Squares that I posted several Christmases ago).  But I wanted to share it again to demonstrate how versatile it can be….and also to emphasize how much I love it.  I don’t think it is a secret that I really like cake… all kinds of cake.  I eat cake almost every day…and I have shared many different kinds of recipes for cake over the years.  But when it comes to cakes for dessert, this almond cake is the cake.  If I could only have one cake to make for birthdays and special occasions for the rest of my life, this is the cake I would choose.  It is perfect in every way.  It bakes into beautiful, level, fine-grained layers that slice cleanly and neatly.  It can be baked in just about any kind of shape (square and round…small and large…).  It can be eaten plainly—with nothing more than a dusting of powdered sugar…or a scattering of toasted almonds.  It is wonderful accompanied by a little fruit…fresh, poached or roasted.   And it can be covered with almost any favorite buttercream or glaze.  And it is of course delicious!  If you love almond flavor, this will probably become your favorite cake too.

                                                                                                                          

I have been making this cake for more than twenty years.  And up until about four years ago my love for this cake was marred (only slightly, I admit) by the persnickety mixing method.  As originally published in Madeleine Kamman’s The New Making of a Cook, the recipe directed you to finely grate the almond paste before creaming it with the butter and sugar.  If you have every worked with almond paste, grating small amounts is a wonderful trick for getting this moderately stiff and sticky substance evenly distributed throughout a batter…or over a pastry or bar cookie.  But grating ten and half ounces of it is a sticky mess.  The fact that I continued to make this cake despite how I felt about grating the almond paste says a lot about how much I love it.  But just in case it was out there, I was always on the lookout for another way to blend the almond paste perfectly and smoothly into the batter.

Then, a few years ago I ran across Thomas Keller’s version of this cake in his book Bouchon.   (There are many, many versions of this cake…it is so lovely that most pastry chefs have it in their repertoire in some form.)  His method for incorporating the almond paste is fantastic.  Instead of softening the butter before creaming it with the almond paste and sugar, the butter is added while it is still cold.  Because the butter is still hard when the creaming process begins, it smoothly absorbs the almond paste bit by bit.  By the time the action of the paddle has softened the butter, it has absorbed all of the almond paste and sugar into a stiff, thick, uniform mass.  

Continued creaming warms and softens the butter while simultaneously incorporating air and eventually produces a perfectly light and fluffy mass of creamed butter, sugar and almond paste.




Brilliant.  And easy. 

Because the proportions of the recipe I use differ slightly from Keller’s recipe, I have adapted his method to work with my recipe.  I leave two thirds of the butter cold and bring the other third to room temperature.  After creaming the cold butter with the almond paste and sugar until everything is completely smooth, I beat in the remaining softened butter and continue to cream until the whole mass is light and fluffy.  Basically Keller’s method seems to work well if the weight of the cold butter is about half the weight of the almond paste.  I have gotten lumps of almond paste that didn’t want to smooth out when I have tried to use all cold butter in my version of the recipe. 

For Easter this year I frosted the cake with a fresh strawberry buttercream.  The recipe is the one my friend Chef Nancy uses in her bake shop and it is basically a Swiss Meringue style buttercream with puréed strawberries beaten into it.  It is light, fresh and delicious—and sets the almond cake off beautifully.

If you have never made Swiss Meringue buttercream, it is a fairly straightforward operation.  Classic recipes are based on a formula where egg whites, along with about twice their weight in sugar are placed in a mixing bowl and heated over a bath of simmering water until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is hot to the touch.  The temperature of the mixture should be in the 150°F to 160°F range. Once you have made it a few times, you will not need a thermometer—you will know by touch if it is ready.  While this mixture is heating, it must be stirred constantly.  You may use a rubber spatula for this, but I find it easiest just to grab the whisk attachment of my mixer at the top and use this to keep the mixture moving over the heat. 

When the mixture is hot, attach the bowl to the mixer and whisk at high speed until it has cooled to room temperature.  Beat in room temperature butter (in an amount roughly equal to the weight of the sugar and whites combined).  At this point flavorings (extracts, fruit purees, etc) are added.  If the mixture looks curdled, 




or is too stiff, warm it briefly (you don’t want to melt the butter—just get the bowl warm to the touch) over the simmering water you used to warm the egg whites and then return it to the mixer and beat with the paddle attachment until smooth. 

You will find all kinds of recipes for Swiss Meringue buttercream—all with slight variations in quantities of whites, sugar and butter.  As long as the ratios of the ingredients are in the ball park of what I have described, the recipe should work just fine.  If you already have a favorite recipe, by all means use it as the base for your strawberry buttercream.

I garnished my Easter cake with my favorite fresh berry compote.  I make this particular compote all the time during the spring and early summer months.  It is wonderful with ice cream, angel food or pound cake, lemon tart…fritters, pancakes and waffles…just about anything that would be set off to advantage by a few berries and a little sauce. Because none of the components are cooked, the compote is bright and fresh—perfect for spring and summer.

Easter is of course over for the year, but there are many spring and early summer celebrations yet to come—graduations, bridal showers, Mother’s day…  This cake would be just the thing for any one of them.  But even if you don’t make the compote….or the buttercream…I hope today’s post inspires you to try this amazing cake.  Once you make it, I think you will find yourself wanting to make it often…for any (and possibly every) occasion.

Danish Almond Cake

200 g. (1 c.) granulated sugar

300 g./10 1/2 oz. almond paste, (not marzipan)

1/2 lb. unsalted butter, divided—1/3 at room temperature and 2/3 kept cold and cut into 6 to 8 chunks

1 t. vanilla

5 large eggs (250 g.)

100 g. (1 c.) sifted cake flour

1/4 t. fine salt

1/2 t. baking powder

Preheat the oven to 325°.  Butter a 10- by 2-inch round cake pan.  Line the pan with a round of parchment, butter the parchment.  Flour the pan, knocking out the excess flour. 

Place the sugar and almond paste in the bowl of a stand mixer and using the paddle attachment, mix on medium low to begin breaking up the almond paste.  Add the cold butter and increase the speed to medium high (you may need to put some plastic wrap around the mixer to prevent the almond paste, sugar and butter from being flung out of the bowl).  Beat until the mixture is smooth.  When no lumps of almond paste or butter remain, increase the speed to high and add the soft butter.  Cream until light and fluffy—about 5 minutes.  Scrape down the bowl add the vanilla and mix in.

Add the eggs one at a time, beating briefly on medium-high speed after each addition to return the batter to fluffiness and scraping down the sides before each next addition.  

Finally, sift the dry ingredients directly over the batter and fold in.  Turn into the prepared pan

and bake for 35 to 40 minutes.  The cake is done when it is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.  Unmold immediately onto a plate.  Invert onto a rack to let the cake cool right side up.  Cool completely. 

The cake may be frosted or simply dusted with powdered sugar and served plain or with whipped cream and berries.  Serves 12 to 16. 

(Recipe adapted from The New Making of a Cook by Madeleine Kamman)

Printable Version 

Fresh Strawberry Buttercream

4 egg whites (120 g.)

1 1/4 c. sugar (250 g.)

3/4 lb. unsalted butter, at room temperature

8 oz. fresh strawberry purée (see note)

Place the egg whites and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer and place over a pan of simmering water.  Stir constantly—with a whisk or rubber spatula—until the sugar is dissolved and the mixture is hot to the touch.  An instant read thermometer will read between 150°F and 160°F.

Using the whisk attachment, whip the mixture on high speed until the mixture has formed a thick, glossy, billowy meringue.  Continue beating until the bowl no longer feels warm to the touch.  Reduce the speed to medium-high and add the butter two or three tablespoons at a time, beating until it is completely absorbed.  Stop the mixer, scrape down the sides.  Whisk in the strawberry purée.  If the mixture appears curdled, place the bowl back over the pan of simmering water just until the bowl is warm.  You don’t want the butter to melt you just want the bowl to be warm.  Return the bowl to the mixer and beat until the mixture no longer appears separated.  Switch to the paddle attachment and continue to beat on medium or medium low speed until the mixture is very silky and smooth and has lightened to a lovely pale pink color. 

Makes about 5 cups of buttercream.  (You will only need about half of this for the Almond Cake.)  The buttercream may be refrigerated for a week or frozen for six months.  Allow the buttercream to come to room temperature before rebeating to restore its silken texture. 

Note:  To make strawberry purée, wash and hull 9 oz. of strawberries.  Purée the hulled strawberries in the food processor until completely smooth.  If made ahead, bring to room temperature before adding to the buttercream. 

Printable Version

  

Fresh Berry Compote

1 6 oz. box raspberries (or use an equal weight of frozen—thaw before using)

3 T. sugar

2 to 3 t. lemon juice—or to taste

1 lb. strawberries, washed, dried, hulled and cut into wedges or sliced

1 to 2 T. sugar

1 1/2 c. mixed berries—raspberries, blueberries and/or blackberries

Make a raspberry sauce:  Purée the raspberries and pass through a fine-meshed strainer, pressing hard with a ladle or spatula in order to extract all of the purée.  Stir in the sugar.  Add lemon juice to taste.

About an hour or two before you plan to serve the compote, place the strawberries in a bowl and sugar lightly and toss to combine.  When you are ready to serve the compote, add the other berries to the strawberries along with the raspberry sauce, folding carefully to distribute the berries and until all of the berries are coasted with the sauce.   

Printable Version 

Summer Peach & Blueberry Crumb Tart

I made a dessert for a private event this past week that I haven't made in years—a simple tart of ripe summer peaches and blueberries.   One of the consequences of teaching cooking classes and developing recipes for a living is that I am always working on something new.   Old favorites sometimes fall out of rotation.  This week as I sliced and plated the warm tart...and nibbled on the little bit of juicy fruit—along with the crumbs of tender crust and sandy streusel—left in the empty pan, I remembered how much I like this tart...and wished I had just a little more to nibble on.  So instead of settling for a few crumbs...and just wishing...I went home and made another tart.

It is an easy tart to make.  For those who avoid making pie crust, don't worry.  This tart has a sweet cookie crust that anyone can make.  

And if you are crunched for time, the crust can be made and baked a day or two ahead (just keep it tightly wrapped in plastic wrap).  The streusel too, can be made ahead.  Once the crust and streusel are ready, making the tart is just a matter of peeling and slicing a few peaches 

and tossing them with blueberries, flour and sugar. 

The amount of sugar is less than the typical American-style summer fruit pie, but you really don't need that much.  The crust and streusel are both sweet....and the fruit itself should be ripe and sweet.  Without a lot of extra sugar, the delicious flavor of the fresh fruit is allowed to shine. 

This tart is best served within a few hours of baking.  It will still be delicious on the second day, but the crust will have begun to absorb some of the fruit juices...making it a bit soft.  Served on the same day...while still slightly warm from the oven (which is when I was nibbling on the remains at my event), the fruit will still be soft and juicy, and the crust and streusel tenderly crunchy....   In short, irresistible.  It is unlikely that leftovers will be an issue (but if they are, I'm sure you will know what to do).

  

Peach & Blueberry Crumb Tart

1 lb. ripe peaches

2 c. blueberries, washed and dried

1/4 c. sugar

1/4 c. flour

pinch of salt

1 9-inch pre-baked sweet tart dough shell (recipe below)

1 recipe streusel crumb topping (recipe below)

Preheat the oven to 350°.

Cut a small slit in the skin on the bottom of each peach.  Place the peaches in a bowl and pour boiling water over them.  Let stand for a minute to loosen the skins; transfer the peaches to a towel.  Peel, halve, pit and slice the peaches 1/4-inch thick.  You should have about 3 cups sliced peaches.

Place the peaches in a large bowl along with the blueberries.  Combine all of the dry ingredients in a small bowl.  

Add the dry ingredients to the fruit and toss until the peach juices have moistened the dry ingredients. 

Place the tart shell on a baking sheet.  Scrape the fruit into the tart shell, spreading evenly,

and top with the streusel—the fruit should be fully covered.  

Bake until the streusel is golden brown and the fruit is bubbling throughout the tart—about an hour to an hour and 15 minutes.  Let cool an hour or two before serving.  Serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Note:  The tart shell will be quite full of fruit and will most likely bubble over a little bit as it bakes.  Setting the shell on a baking sheet will prevent the juices from ending up on the oven floor. 

Sweet Tart Dough:

1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter (114g)

6 T. granulated sugar (75g)

1 egg yolk (20g)

1 t. vanilla

1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour (150g)

1/3 cake flour (46g)

Briefly cream the butter and sugar together until smooth.  Beat in the egg yolk and the vanilla.  Add the flours and mix until well combined.  Form the dough into a thick disk.  Use immediately, or wrap in plastic and chill or freeze.  Let the dough soften before rolling out. 

On a lightly floured board (or between 2 sheets of plastic wrap), roll about 2/3 of the dough out to a thickness of 1/8- to 3/16-inch (the remaining dough may be frozen for another use...or rolled, cut and baked into sugar cookies—see note).  Brush off the excess flour and transfer the dough to a greased tart pan.  Ease the dough into the pan being careful not to stretch it and pressing it against the sides of the tart pan.  Use your hands to gently cut the dough flush with the upper rim of the tart pan.

To blind bake, place the shell on a cookie sheet and bake in a 375° oven until set and pale golden—10-12 minutes.  (It is not necessary to fill this crust with pie weights.)

Note:  This amount of dough is enough for 1 1/2 9-inch tarts.  I generally make up a double batch and divide it into 3 disks of dough.  Freeze the disks that you don’t need.  Use within 3 to 4 months.

Streusel Crumb Topping:

2/3 c. flour (80g)

1/4 c. granulated sugar (50g)

1/4 c. packed brown sugar (50g)

1/2 t. cinnamon

1/4 t. nutmeg

4 T. cold unsalted butter (55g)

Combine flour, sugars, and spices.  Add the butter.  Rub the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture appears sandy & is homogeneous.

Printable Recipe

Summer Simplicity

At a lunch with friends recently I was reminded of the beauty and fragility of that oh-so-desirable quality of simplicity.  The restaurant we ate at was by and large a disappointment.  I had looked forward to our visit there with great anticipation because of the buzz surrounding it—a restaurant featuring food touted as nose-to-tail, farm-to-table simple.  Unfortunately the food we were served was for the most part poorly executed...and other items I looked at on the menu seemed a bit ill-conceived—odd combinations of ingredients, too many things on the plate, etc.  All of this reminded me of what Mario calls the elusive nature of simplicity.  His definition of simplicity* is probably the best I have ever read: "pristine ingredients, combined sensibly and cooked properly." It sounds straightforward enough...but in practice it truly is difficult to achieve and to find.  Elusive indeed.  That day, the ingredients on our plates might have been pristine...but as is often the case, the way they had been combined and prepared hid their beauty from us. 

I am happy to say that all of our food was not so disappointing.  Our shared appetizer scored on all points.  It was nothing more than a spare platter of ripe heirloom tomatoes, a scattering of shaved raw summer squash and sweet red onion, some crusty baguette and a few fluffs of microgreens.  The whole platter was seasoned judiciously with crunchy sea salt and freshly ground black pepper and drizzled generously with olive oil and balsamic.  Everything was fresh, at its seasonal peak, combined in a complimentary way, handled minimally and seasoned to advantage—a perfect example of simplicity done right.  It was so good...  I could have licked the plate. 

The good news in all of this is that in the summer, if you shop at a farmers' market or are a member of a CSA, this kind of deliciousness is available to you at home every day.  Even if you just shop at your local grocery store, so many stores are now purchasing at least some of their produce from local sources, you will find that you have access to wonderful, peak of the season ingredients, throughout the growing season in your area.   I have made my own version of that wonderful platter at least three times since for lunch... doing so is just a matter of arranging the ingredients on the plate...and seasoning them well.  For this kind of dish, you don't even need to cook if you don't want to.

Every time I made this dish, I included almost all of the ingredients the restaurant used: beautiful, vine-ripened tomatoes, fresh summer squash, red onions, toasted bread (drizzled with olive oil), coarse salt & pepper, balsamic vinegar and olive oil. For a little extra crunch I added some toasted pine nuts (but they could be left off).  A couple of times—because corn is so delicious with both summer squash and tomatoes—I added a scattering of roasted corn (but raw would be delicious too).  And since each time I was making an entrée (rather than an appetizer), I included a bit of creamy buffalo mozzarella for more substance. 

You probably noticed I didn't mention the microgreens...which I never have...  Instead, I used arugula...for which I have a good local source.  But if you don't, a scattering of torn, fresh basil leaves would be pretty fine in place of the microgreens too.  The arugula is set off to great advantage by lemon, so to finish my platter of summer vegetables, I tossed a small fluff of arugula with a squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of olive oil and placed it on top.

I mentioned it earlier, but I want make sure I emphasize the role of the salt, pepper, balsamic and olive oil in this dish.  Do not skimp on these items.  The salt and the acidity of the vinegar will make the flavors of your pristine ingredients pop.  The vegetables might seem bland and uninteresting without them (one of the failings of the other items we had at the restaurant was lack of salt).  A nice flakey salt (Maldon's...or Fleur de sel...or even a simple, moderately coarse sea salt) will add even more interest since it will add a pleasant crunch.  Coarsely ground pepper will add a bit of spice and heat...and olive oil will add fruity flavor...and needed moisture.

The interplay of the flavors (tangy, nutty, sweet, hot and salty) and the textures (crunchy, crisp, juicy and creamy) of this dish are a delight to the palate and the senses.  It is a totally satisfying...and simple!...dish.  And since our weather has turned steamy and hot this past week, I have found it to be wonderfully refreshing too....just the thing for a light dinner....or a special lunch.

Of course, the idea of this platter—an artful arrangement of a thoughtful combination of peak of the season produce—can be transferred to all kinds of other ingredients.  Today as I was working on this post, when I took my lunch break, I assembled another platter—this one featuring fruit.  With slabs of fragrant, juicy cantaloupe as my foundation, I added blueberries, toasted pecans and chunks of sheep's milk Feta.  I seasoned it with salt, pepper, a generous squeeze of lime and drizzles of honey and olive oil.  Topped with a little olive oil-dressed arugula (a scattering of fresh mint would have been nice instead), it was another delicious example of the magic of summer simplicity—a well-seasoned mix of complimentary flavors and textures that was greater than the sum of its parts. 

* From the introduction to Mario Batali Simple Italian Food: Recipes from My Two Villages