A Midsummer Vegetable Ragoût of Baby Root Vegetables, Summer Squash & Green Beans

From early spring to late fall—basically my "market" season—there is always an abundant mix of vegetables in my refrigerator and on my kitchen counter. This means that even if there is "nothing" in the house for dinner, I can always make a mixed vegetable ragoût of some sort for our evening meal. In my mind, a vegetable ragoût is a medley of vegetables that are finished all together in a small amount of a flavorful liquid. It is not quite broth-y enough to be a soup or a stew, but like a soup or stew, the overall effect is that of a harmonious whole. Served with a grain pilaf, polenta, mashed potatoes, a starchy gratin, or some nice crusty bread and cheese, a vegetable ragoût can be the star of the meal. It can also be a wonderful supporting player to a grilled or sautéed piece of meat or fish.

When combining vegetables for a ragoût, remember that in general "foods that grow together go together". So, if all the vegetables you plan to put in your ragoût grew in the same part of the country, at around the same time (and of course this will be true if you are getting your ingredients from local sources), then you don't need to worry too much about whether you will have a pleasing combination.

To me, the greater difficulty lies in limiting yourself. There is such an abundance this time of year, it would be easy to include so many different kinds of vegetables that the individual character of each vegetable is lost. I generally try and limit my selection to 3 to 5 vegetables—you could of course use more (a classic Moroccan Tagine has seven)—but 3 to 5 gives plenty of variety without being too busy.

For the kind of ragoût I had in mind last night I like to have a roughly even mix of root vegetables and green vegetables—and then for a uniform look, about equal quantities of each vegetable. But another kind of ragoût might feature a large quantity of one vegetable and an equal amount of a variety of several others. Furthermore (not to stray too far from my topic here—but to give you an idea of the possibilities) a ragoût does not need to contain any root vegetables—one of my favorite summer ragoûts contains eggplant, peppers, onions, tomatoes and chickpeas.... Or, a ragoût could be made with all root vegetables....or all green vegetables.... This post today is just a narrow window into the vast world of vegetable ragoûts.

For the ragoût that I made yesterday evening, I chose turnips, carrots, baby summer squash and green beans. Earlier in the season, adding kohlrabi to the root vegetables or peas to the green vegetables would have been nice. Later in the summer, shelling beans add variety and substance. Wilted spinach or chard would be another good addition.

When it comes to the actual cooking process, it is important to consider each vegetable separately. Group the vegetables according to how long each will take to cook and also according to the cooking process you will use for those vegetables. The root vegetables will take roughly the same amount of time to cook—as long as they are cut in pieces that are similar in size. Green vegetables will take much less time to cook and they can simply be added to the ragoût when the root vegetables are half to two-thirds cooked.

The final flavor of a ragoût made in this way will be very good. Unfortunately, the textures of the vegetables might be less than perfect—some or all of the green vegetables might become overcooked while waiting for one or more of the other vegetables to cook to tenderness. It is impossible to estimate perfectly when all of the vegetables will be done. The way to solve this problem is to cook some of the vegetables separately and then combine all of the vegetables together at the end for a brief simmer to allow all of the flavors to blend. Not only does this process give more control to the cook, but it provides the option of choosing different cooking methods for the green vegetables—blanching for peas or green beans, longer stewing for shell beans, sautéing for summer squash and a quick braise or sauté for any greens you might want to add. Each vegetable reaches its perfect doneness this way. Some of the blanching or stewing liquids from the cooking of these individual vegetables can be used in the finishing of the ragoût to contribute to the finished flavor.

Once you have chosen your vegetables and the cooking methods you will be using, you can begin to think about herbs, spices and the sort of liquid you will want to use. I made a simple French-inspired dish of braised baby root vegetables, sautéed summer squash, and blanched green beans, seasoned with garlic, thyme, chives and roast chicken jus. But your choices are almost without limit—as I mentioned above, the world of ragoûts is vast—Spanish-inspired seasoned with saffron, paprika and tomato...Thai with green curry paste, lime and coconut milk.... It would be a monumental task to expound at length on flavor variations here. I love vegetables, so I am sure that vegetable ragoûts will make numerous appearances here in the future. But for now, if you like the idea of the vegetable ragoût and want some more specific recipes, Deborah Madison's cookbooks contain numerous examples (particularly Local Flavors, Vegetarian Suppers and Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone).

I served my French-inspired, midsummer vegetable ragoût with a couscous pilaf that included red onions, pine nuts and currants. But it would have been good with a piece of salmon or some soft polenta or a creamy potato gratin or...

Midsummer Vegetable Ragoût (for 2)

Prepare the vegetables: Peel and trim 4 small carrots (about 4 oz.) and cut 1/2-inch thick on a long diagonal. Peel and trim 3 small turnips (about 5 oz.) and cut into 1/2-inch wedges. Top and tail a couple of handfuls of green beans. Cut on the diagonal into 2-inch lengths. Wash the baby squash and cut into uniform chunks or wedges to go with the size of carrots and turnips.

In a sauté pan large enough to hold the carrots and turnips in a single layer, heat some olive oil and a little butter over medium high heat until the butter is melted and the foam subsides. Add the carrots and turnips along with a generous pinch of salt and sauté, tossing occasionally until the vegetables are browned in spots. Add a clove of minced garlic and a tablespoon or so of picked fresh thyme.

Continue to sauté until the garlic is fragrant—about a minute. Add enough liquid to come half way up the sides of the vegetables in the pan. Water is fine. If you have chicken stock, even better. I had some roast chicken jus that I had frozen after I roasted the chicken for my Chicken and Cantaloupe Salad, so I used that:

Reduce the heat and cover the pan. Gently simmer the vegetables until they are just tender. Check the vegetables occasionally as they cook and add more liquid as necessary to maintain about a quarter inch depth in the pan.

While the root vegetables cook, sauté the squash in a little butter until golden and barely tender. Season with salt and pepper and set aside.

Blanch the green beans in boiling salted water until tender. Scoop them out and spread on a towel.

To finish the ragoût, uncover the root vegetables and increase the heat to maintain a simmer.

Add the squash and beans and more broth (or green bean cooking water, if you like) if the pan seems dry. When the vegetables are hot through, add a tablespoon or so of butter and some minced chives and toss until the butter has emulsified into the braising liquid and the chives are well distributed throughout the ragoût. If you have some herbed compound butter on hand, you could use that instead of the plain butter and chives. Pesto would also make a fine addition—add a spoonful along with a drizzle of olive oil instead of the butter and chives. Taste and correct the seasoning and serve.

A Refreshing Chicken Salad with Cantaloupe, Feta, Arugula & Mint

Just as the most blistering heat of the summer begins to set in, refreshing melons and cucumbers have begun to show up at my Farmers' market. It is only recently that I have come to appreciate melons and cucumbers. I am certain that my earlier dislike was from having eaten a less than spectacular specimen or two while I was growing up. They just seemed a bit boring and flavorless to me.  As a child I don't ever remember going to a farmers' market and we never had a vegetable garden (only flowers). The fruits and vegetables I ate were from the grocery store and had, I know now, been picked before their prime for shipment. Some fruits and vegetables suffer more under this kind of treatment than others. Tomatoes are a good example. I went for years as a young adult thinking I didn't like tomatoes anymore. Then on a business trip to Florida, I was served a gorgeous vine ripe tomato on my salad and couldn't believe the flavor explosion in my mouth...I did like tomatoes!

Something similar happened to me with Cantaloupe. After years of refusing cantaloupe, I found myself at the end of a wonderful meal at Alain Ducasse's La Bastide de Moustiers in the South of France. The dessert that evening included a simple medley of seasonal fruits. In it floated these peachy colored cubes that tasted like nothing I had ever eaten—sweet, juicy and with an incredible perfume. The waitress seemed surprised that I didn't know what it was—just melon du Cavaillon (a small French variety of cantaloupe). Amazing!

A couple of summers ago while I was working on a class featuring cold foods, I came across three salads by three of my favorite women chefs—Jody Adams, Judy Rodgers and Joyce Goldstein. All three salads featured combinations of these (and other) crunchy and juicy vegetables and fruits of summer accented by the crunch of nuts, salty cheese and a healthy dose of refreshing mint.  I was inspired to put together my own version and the result is the recipe I'm sharing today. I drew most heavily on the salad by Joyce Goldstein, published in an old summer issue of Food & Wine.

Besides getting the chance to use and learn more about a couple of ingredients that weren't regulars in my repertoire, while playing with this recipe I learned a new technique for adding mint flavor to a vinaigrette. Jody Adams says that it is an Italian technique. Basically the vinegar or lemon juice is combined with some minced fresh mint and then brought to a simmer. It is then pulled off of the heat and allowed to steep (much like tea) for at least 30 minutes. The longer you allow it to steep, the more intense the mint flavor. The mint-infused vinegar is then strained and used in the vinaigrette. If you are in a hurry, you could probably skip this step, but if you have time, it is definitely worth trying.

It goes without saying that you should wait to make this salad until the cantaloupes at the market are so fragrant and ripe that you can't pass the stand without being drawn in by their aroma. The cucumbers should be small and firm so they will be at their crunchy best. I purchased the small pickling type—but any variety is fine as long as it isn't overgrown and soft.

I could go on and on about the contrasts of flavors and textures in this salad—salty and sweet, crunchy and soft—and how this makes for an extraordinary salad, but the thing that I love more than anything else about it is that it is downright juicy. Thirst quenching, refreshing and perfect for a hot day, it also makes a satisfying meal because of the addition of the roast chicken.

For the salad you will need a scant pound of shredded roast chicken. Depending on how your supermarket or butcher trims the chicken they sell, you will need 1 1/2 to 2 lbs. of bone-in split breasts to end up with that amount cooked. It is always better to err on the side of too much rather than too little, because shredded roast chicken can be used up in any number of ways—burrito or soft taco filling, in pasta, on a sandwich, etc. Regular readers of my blog have probably figured out that I frown on prepared foods, but I will concede that one of the "better" prepared foods is the widely available rotisserie chicken. If you must, you could make this salad with meat from a purchased rotisserie chicken. But it's so much better if you roast your own chicken. You will need to do this early in the day, or the day before, so the chicken has time to chill.

To roast bone-in, skin-on, chicken breasts, rinse them and pat them dry. Rub the chicken with a light coating of olive oil and season generously with salt and pepper. Place the chicken in a baking dish and roast in a 450° to 475° oven until the skin is crisp and golden and an instant read thermometer inserted in the thickest portion reads 155°--about 25 to 30 minutes. (The chicken will easily reach the safe temperature of 160° as it rests.)  As the chicken roasts, regulate the oven temperature to maintain an active sizzle. Remove the chicken from the oven and let sit until cool enough to handle. (If desired, deglaze the baking pan with water. Degrease and reserve the resulting tasty jus for another use.) When the chicken has cooled, remove the skin and bones and discard. Shred the meat into long strips about ½-inch wide.

Chicken Salad with Cantaloupe, Feta & Arugula

2 T. Lemon Juice

½ c. mint chiffonade, plus 1 T. (heaping) chopped mint

1 T. red wine vinegar

1 ½ T. minced shallot (about half a small shallot)

½ t. honey

Salt & Pepper

1/3 c. Olive oil

½ of a large (2 ½ to 3 lb.) ripe cantaloupe, peeled and seeded

1 small cucumber (about 6 oz.), peeled if the skin is tough, halved & seeded

12 to 16 oz. chilled, shredded roast chicken (about 2 1/2 to 3 cups)

4 oz. rinsed and stemmed Arugula (4 handfuls)

½ c. pecans (2 oz.), toasted and broken into medium-sized pieces

4 oz. Feta, crumbled (or substitute Ricotta Salata, thinly sliced)

To make the vinaigrette: Place the lemon juice in a small saucepan with the tablespoon of minced mint and bring to a simmer. Simmer until the mint wilts—this will only take a few seconds. Remove from the heat and let steep for 30 minutes. Strain the lemon juice into a small bowl and add the red wine vinegar, shallot and honey. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Let the shallot macerate for a few moments before adding the olive oil. Whisk in the olive oil. Taste and correct the seasoning. Set aside.

Cut the cantaloupe half in quarters lengthwise. Then slice thinly crosswise (you should have a generous 2 cups of sliced cantaloupe); set aside. Thinly slice the cucumber halves on a long diagonal (you should have about a cup of cucumber “ribbons”).

Place the chicken in a large bowl. Season with salt and pepper and drizzle with some of the vinaigrette. Toss to coat. Add the Arugula and the chiffonade mint to the bowl along with the cantaloupe, cucumber, pecans and Feta.

Season with salt and pepper and drizzle with just enough vinaigrette to coat. Carefully toss the salad. Divide among four dinner plates and serve.  Serves 4.

Printable Version

Banana-Walnut Chocolate-Chunk Cookies

Most of the recipes that I post are either recipes that I have developed or recipes that I have altered in some way. It is pretty rare for me, or for any professional or experienced cook I suppose, to leave a recipe unchanged. We just can't help ourselves. But today's cookie recipe is one that I am passing on unchanged. I like it just the way it is. It is destined to become a favorite "cookie jar" cookie at my house (my cookie jar being a Tupperware container that lives in the freezer).

These cookies remind me of the old-fashioned drop cookies of my childhood—Betty Crocker's Old Time Cinnamon Jumbles, Carrot Cookies with orange frosting, and my favorite, a soft chocolate cookie with raisins and chocolate icing that my Grandmother used to make (I don't have any idea what it was called). Soft and cake-like, with a domed, imperfect shape, these kinds of cookies seem to have fallen out of favor. This is possibly because of the supremacy of the chocolate chip cookie and it's relatives, or the fact that people really don't bake from scratch very much (these cookies have a definite homemade look about them). Also, unless you are keeping them in the freezer, they have a tendency to go stale quickly. Whatever the reason, you don't see them very often anymore so I was very pleased to come across this type of cookie in Martha Stewart's Cookies.

My mother made a Banana-Oatmeal cookie that was very similar to this one when I was a kid. Once, while I was in college, she sent a box of them to me in a care package. Because they do go stale quickly, she went to the trouble of wrapping each cookie individually—a special treat and gesture that has remained in my memory. You might wonder why I am now making the "new" version. Well, Martha's version has chocolate and walnuts instead of raisins and spices, so I prefer her version (sorry Mom).

I took a few of these cookies with me on my trip to Minneapolis a couple of weeks ago. They were perfect road trip fare—sweet, substantial and full of good things (walnuts, oatmeal, whole wheat flour, bananas), making for a sustaining sort of snack. I think they would make an excellent "on the go" breakfast, too. In general, I think desserts (cookies, fruit pies and tarts, certain kinds of cake...) make pretty good breakfast food. But even for those who don't share my opinion, I think these cookies would pass for an acceptable breakfast—certainly better for you than the processed breakfast foods that many people eat.

The main reason that I first tried these cookies was that I came across the recipe when I had one over-ripe banana sitting on my kitchen counter. It always seems to be this way—only one banana hangs around long enough to become ripe enough for baking...no matter how many we buy. I love banana baked goods, but most banana bread, cake and muffin recipes call for more than one banana. I realize I could freeze these singleton bananas and then bake when I have a collection of them—and I do occasionally freeze some, but for some reason this isn't something I'm inclined to do (I guess I would rather save room in my freezer for finished cookies).  Anyway, this cookie recipe only calls for one banana, and since it has the taste and texture of a banana cake, my problem is solved. 


Banana-Walnut Chocolate Chunk Cookies

1 c. all-purpose flour (4 1/4 oz.)
1/2 c. whole wheat flour (2 1/8 oz.)—I used white whole wheat
1 t. kosher salt
1/2 t. baking soda
3/4 c. (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 c. granulated sugar
1/2 c. packed light brown sugar
1 large egg
1 1/2 t. vanilla extract
1/2 c. mashed ripe banana (about 1 large)
1 c. old fashioned rolled oats
8 oz. semisweet chocolate chips
1/2 c. coarsely chopped walnuts (2 oz.), toasted

Whisk together the flours, salt and baking soda. Set aside.

Cream the butter and sugars until pale and fluffy. Beat in the egg and then the vanilla. Stir in the banana. Add the flour and mix until almost completely incorporated. Stir in the oats, chocolate and nuts.

Using a 1 1/2-inch cookie scoop, scoop the dough onto parchment-lined baking sheets, spacing 2 inches apart.

Bake the cookies in a 375° oven, rotating the cookie sheet halfway through, until golden brown and just set—11 to 13 minutes. Let cool on the sheets for 5 minutes.

Transfer the cookies to wire racks; let cool completely. Cookies can be stored in airtight containers at room temperature up to 2 days. (The cookies may also be frozen.)  Makes 3 dozen medium-sized cookies.

(Recipe from Martha Stewart's Cookies)

Printable Recipe

Kale, Potato & Black Olive Pizza

I purchased a bag of Kale at the market last Saturday. Ordinarily, I don't think of kale as a summer food, but it looked especially nice—with small, relatively tender leaves and stems that seemed less developed than usual—it must be that we are at the very beginning of the crop. I bought it, not quite sure what I would do with it. I tend to like kale in recipes that are appropriate for Autumn and Winter—in a hearty soup, or braised and served as a side dish. But I wasn't really in the mood for something so hearty—the weather has turned beastly hot in the past few days.

Last year I taught a class on Greens.  As I was driving home from the market, I remembered that one of the recipes I taught was for a Kale & Potato Pizza. I'm almost always in the mood for pizza.  Even if turning your oven up to pizza-baking temperatures heats your kitchen up too much for the summer, you can always make it on the grill instead. Pizza seems to fit any season. Since I had also purchased potatoes at the market, I knew before I returned home that I would be having my kale on a pizza.

Kale (greens in general, actually) go particularly well with bland starches like potatoes, shell beans and pasta. The addition of a sweet component (sweet potatoes/winter squash, caramelized onions) or a salty component (anchovies, olives, bacon, sausage...) really lights up this combination. A good example of this flavor profile can be found in one of my first posts where I wrote about a White Bean Soup with Sausage & Swiss Chard—the sausage providing the salty accent.

Last week I made a quick, custard-based tart for dinner and made use of a sweet flavor accent by combining some garlicky sautéed Swiss chard and roasted potatoes with caramelized onions. It was very good and I probably should have written a post about it, but it was one of those meals that I threw together with what I had on hand, so I really didn't have a recipe. I did take a picture of the (half eaten) finished tart:

For those interested in making something similar, I can tell you that you can find the crust recipe here and that I used a custard of 1 egg and 1/2 cup heavy cream.  The filling quantities were approximately one bunch of Swiss chard, 3 or 4 new potatoes (cut in scant 1-inch chunks), 1 small onion and 3 or 4 oz. of coarsely shredded Gruyère.

The amazing thing to me about the tart, the soup and the pizza is how astonishingly satisfying they are too eat. I suppose that this should not be surprising since greens are one of the healthiest things you can eat—they are constantly showing up on lists that have titles like: "Ten Things You Should Eat Everyday". The combination of healthy greens with the filling potatoes or beans must satisfy our natural craving for truly nourishing food. To be honest, I rarely think about how to get more "healthy" foods into my diet. I just eat lots of fresh fruits and vegetables and stay away from processed foods as much as possible. But, if you are trying to learn how to include more greens in your diet, any one of these recipes would be a fairly enjoyable way to do it.

I will give the recipe as I made it, but this pizza has appeared on my table in numerous incarnations.  I have used sliced and roasted potatoes instead of the crumbled, poached potatoes called for in the recipe. Olives have been replaced with a couple of ounces of  rendered bacon or pancetta--and the rendered fat used to cook the kale. I'm sure the pizza would be good with anchovies or cooked Italian Sausage chunks, too.  My choice of cheeses in the recipe happened to be what I had on hand.  In the past I have made the pizza with crumbled, aged goat cheese (like Bûcheron).  Obviously you should experiment and come up with your own combinations. As always, what is really important is to use a light hand with the toppings so that the crust will be able to cook to crispness in 12 to 15 minutes in a hot oven.

A final note about the Kale. The recipe calls for a 1/2 lb. bunch of kale, which is what is normally sold in the grocery store. After the stems have been stripped (and you should always strip the stems away from Kale—they are quite ropey and tough),

a bunch this size will cook down to about a cup of greens. The bag of kale that I purchased weighed slightly more than a half pound. But because the stems were so young, there was a larger proportion of edible leaves which cooked down to a scant 1 1/2 cups. This left me with some nice braised kale to fold into an omelet, toss with some pasta or serve on a crostini or bruschetta with some cheese. The point is, take the varied nature of things that you purchase at the farmers' market into account when you are following recipes that have been calibrated to what is typically found at an American grocery store. You may have to adjust your recipe as you cook. And to be honest, this is what cooking is really about—learning how to take your cues from the ingredients and equipment at hand and manipulate them to produce something that is good to eat.

Pizza with Kale, Potatoes & Olives

6 to 7 oz. New Potatoes, well scrubbed
1 to 2 T. olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
a pinch pepperflakes
1 bunch Kale (about 1/2 lb.), ribs removed and coarsely chopped
Pizza dough (see below), rested
1 T. olive oil
2 to 3 oz. coarsely shredded Aged White Cheddar or Gruyère
12 Kalamata Olives, pitted & halved
3 oz. coarsely shredded Fontina

Place the potatoes in a saucepan and cover with salted water. Simmer until tender. Drain. Set aside until cool enough to handle. Peel away the skins and set aside until ready to build the pizza.

Place the olive oil, garlic and pepper flakes in a medium sauté pan set over medium to medium-high heat. When the garlic begins to sizzle and is fragrant, begin to add the kale a handful at a time, turning it as you do to coat in the hot oil and adding another handful as the previous one begins to collapse. When all of the kale has been added and it has all collapsed, season lightly with salt and add a few tablespoons of water. Reduce the heat. Cover and cook until tender—about 20 to 30 minutes (possibly longer, depending on the age and variety of the kale). Check the kale occasionally as it cooks, adding a little more water if the pan seems very dry. When the kale is tender, remove the lid and increase the heat so that any liquid left in the pan can cook off. Remove the pan from the heat and allow the kale to cool briefly.

Build the pizza: On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out into a 12-inch circle. Transfer the dough to a pizza pan or baking sheet that has been lightly dusted with semolina, fine cornmeal, or flour. Using your fingers, push up the edges of the dough to make a slight rim. Spread a thin layer of olive oil over the crust. Scatter the Cheddar or Gruyère over the crust. Crumble the cooked potatoes over the cheese. Season with salt & pepper.

Spread the greens randomly over the potatoes and follow with the olives and the Fontina.

Place the pizza in its pan on a pre-heated pizza stone in a pre-heated 450° to 500° oven. Bake until the crust is golden brown on the bottom and the cheese is golden, about 12 to 15 minutes. To insure a crisp crust, slide the pizza off of the pan to finish cooking directly on the pizza stone for the last minute or two of cooking.

Pizza Dough (adapted from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins):

1/2 cup warm water (100º-110º)
1 1/8 t. active dry yeast
1 1/4 to 1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 T. olive oil
1/2 t. salt

Place the water in a large bowl and add the yeast.  Let soften for a minute or two.  Add 3/4 cup of the flour and whisk until smooth.  Add the oil, salt and another half cup of the flour. Stir with a wooden spoon to form a soft dough that holds its shape. Sprinkle some of the remaining quarter cup of flour on a smooth surface. Scrape the dough out of the bowl and sprinkle with a bit more flour. Knead the dough, adding just enough flour to keep the dough from sticking, until the dough is smooth and springs back when pressed lightly with a finger—about 5 to 10 minutes. Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl and cover the bowl with plastic wrap. Let the dough rise until it has doubled in size—about 1 hour. Punch down the dough and turn it onto a lightly floured surface and roll it into a tight ball. Cover with a towel and let rest for 15-20 minutes. The dough is now ready to be shaped and topped.

General Pizza making tips:
• Anything that you put on the pizza should be able to cook in 15 minutes or less; or, should be pre-cooked to get it to that point. Any ingredient that produces a lot of liquid when it is cooked (zucchini, for example) should always be pre-cooked. Some wet ingredients—like tomatoes—should be drained of excess liquid first.
• Have all toppings ready and at room temperature before you roll out the crust.
• Don’t pile on too much topping—too much and the crust will not cook in the center. Sauces should be spread thinly and if there is no “sauce” other than olive oil, you should be able to see bits of the crust through the various toppings.
• Pre-heat the oven and pizza stone for at least one half hour and preferably an hour.

Musings Concerning "The Table" and the Elusive Blueberry Muffin Recipe

Every now and then I will write a post that doesn't include recipes or pictures. Today's post will be one of those posts.  Well, maybe I'll sneak in a picture....  Here are the beautiful blueberries I purchased for my blueberry muffins:

Seeds of this post were planted as I was reading over my last post. When I wrote it I purposely left out specifics about the event and the people there because it is important to me not to plaster pictures of myself and my friends all over this blog. This is mostly because I am fairly private about my own life and also because I want to respect the privacy of others. But in addition to these things, I want this blog to be accessible, one that is about food and the universal shared experience of food...not just me and my experience of food.

I was telling one of the guests from last Sunday about this omission of the people and personal specifics from my post because leaving these things out had made me feel as though I had somehow misrepresented our evening.  A description of the evening without alluding to those gathered came up short because the gathering of all of us together was the event—food (which was the focus of my post) was just one part of our evening. So I thought I might bring some completion to my previous post by posting a few random thoughts about these intangibles of "the table".

M.F.K. Fisher put it best: "There is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine is drunk." This is so true. We are spiritual beings and the table as a gathering place is a place where we commune as people. When we gather with friends, the food is important (I wouldn't be a chef if I didn't believe that), but it is not paramount.

Good food does not automatically produce a happy and memorable gathering. There is a proverb that says "Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fattened calf with hatred". I have experienced what it is like to be in paradise on earth, eating the finest food imaginable and not being able to enjoy it because of the presence of an undercurrent of strife and discord. On the other hand, even if the food is perhaps not so fine, a gathering can be happy and memorable if laughter, peace and good conversation are at the table. Although the food was very good at the dinner I posted about, one of the things that made my fourth of July so very special is that I was staying with a friend whose very nature exhibits hospitality, joy and generosity.

Since a well-prepared meal can only enhance a gathering, being able to prepare good food is important. One of the reasons that I teach cooking classes is that I want people to cook good food for their families and friends. I'm sure I have written this before, and it will probably show up over and over on my blog, but I want the things I post to not only encourage and inspire this, but to make it possible. I love hearing back from people that they made something I posted about—or that it motivated them to cook for someone.

A common lament among chefs is that often people are afraid to cook for them. Apparently the fear is that what they prepare will not be "good enough" for a chef. But cooking for another human being is a gift to them. I am always touched when someone makes the effort to cook or bake for me—even more so since I knew they had the "cooking for a chef" hurdle to surmount before they did it.

I will admit that I am a perfectionist when it comes to food that I prepare—it is important to do everything with an eye towards doing your best. I had planned to post about blueberry muffins today. But although the muffins I made were good, they could be better. I am on the hunt for a perfect blueberry muffin—sweet and tender (with a muffin- and not a cake-like texture)...one where the muffin would be fine without the blueberries, but is even better with... The muffins I made weren't quite there, so I didn't want to post about them because I hold out hope I'll come across, or come up with, that recipe. But, even though they were not "perfect", I would not hesitate to share the ones that I made with family and friends over the Sunday morning breakfast or brunch table.

Since there are fine recipes for blueberry muffins everywhere...and we are in the peak of blueberry season...I encourage you to let this post inspire you to make a batch. Make them with love, doing your best. Then, serve them to your family or friends for brunch or a snack...take them to work for your co-workers to enjoy with their morning coffee (instead of the normal industrial fodder that is eaten in offices everywhere)...give some to a neighbor... Feed yourself and others with something that you have made and you will be filling more than just someone's belly. 

As for me, I returned home well-filled after my visit with my friends.

Quotes from: The Gastronomical Me, by M.F.K. Fisher and Proverbs 15:17, The New International Version of The Bible

A Visit to the St. Paul Farmers' Market and a Summer Berry Tart

Several years ago I visited the St. Paul Farmers' Market during the height of the growing season and I have never forgotten it. I remember stall after stall of plump ears of corn and colorful displays of tomatoes, green beans, summer squash, peppers and eggplant. The profusion of pristine produce was amazing. So when I found out I was going to be in the Twin Cities over the holiday weekend (visiting my good friend Bonnie), I knew I wanted to return and experience it again, if possible.

My visit was earlier in the growing season this time than it was last time, but there was still a profusion. All of the things that grow in late spring and early summer were there in ample supply...new potatoes, red & golden beets, tiny haricots verts, peas (tail end of the shelling sort and the beginning of sugar snap), kohlrabi, green & gold zucchini, lettuces, onions, green garlic and herbs. We also came home with some beautiful raspberries and red currants (something I have never worked with and don't remember ever having seen at my market).

I am still relatively new to blogging, so I was thinking mostly about enjoying myself and not so much about taking pictures.  The only picture I took at the market was of the raspberries. They looked so beautiful in their unusual little wooden crates that I couldn't resist.

Bonnie and I both love to cook (and eat) so we purchased more than enough to keep us happily occupied for the duration of my visit. Our evening meal on the fourth was a pure celebration of the bounty of the market. We made a composed salad of roasted fingerling potatoes, roasted beets, and blanched haricots verts. This was topped off with some grilled salmon that we dressed with a generous smear of lemon dill butter (a compound butter made with loads of dill, some lemon zest, lemon juice and a touch of anchovy) when it came off of the grill.

It occurs to me that not everyone will be familiar with the term "composed" salad.  In its most basic form, a composed salad is a salad made by arranging the individually dressed components of the salad on a plate rather than simply tossing them all together as for a "tossed" salad.   Probably the most famous example of a composed salad is the Salade Niçoise.  A Cobb Salad is another well known example.  Our composed salad made a perfect midsummer, outdoor meal.

For dessert we made a custard tart filled with the raspberries and currants from the market. The currants were pretty tart, so we made our favorite sweet crust (adapted from a recipe by my friend Kathy who is a very talented pastry chef) and a sweet custard to balance their tartness. The crust and custard could be used as the building blocks for any number of fruit fillings. I have used them with halved and pitted bing cherries as well as apricot wedges. I'm sure the tart would be wonderful with blueberries, too.

To make the tart, prepare a 9- or 10-inch tart shell (below) and blind bake it.  Finely grate some almond paste over the cooled shell.  This was Bonnie's touch--I never fully appreciated almond paste until I met Bonnie and began to eat her delicious Danish and Swedish baked goods.

While the shell is baking and cooling, make the custard (below), pick through the raspberries (I don't wash them unless they are visibly dirty--washing them can cause them to disintegrate) and wash the currants.  Leave some of the currants on their stems in clusters to garnish the finished tart.  Spread all of them on a towel to dry.

Scatter the raspberries and some of the picked currants over the almond paste covered tart shell.  Don't crowd the berries--a generous amount of custard punctuated intermittently with the sweet-tart berries makes for a more delicate tart than one that is mostly berries.

Carefully pour the custard over the berries, making sure that the custard doesn't overflow the tart shell.  Any custard that seeps in between the crust and the tart pan will burn and cause the tart to stick to the pan.  You may not need all of the custard.  Any leftovers can be baked in a buttered custard cup or ramekin with some of the berries for a cook's treat.

Bake the tart in a 375-degree oven until it is puffed and beginning to take on a golden color around the edges and it is completely set.  Our tart took about 30 minutes to bake.  

Let the tart cool and serve garnished with clusters of fresh currants and some fresh raspberries.  Dredge with some powdered sugar, if you like.  Chill any leftovers.  The tart will serve 8 to 10.

Almond Custard for a 9 to 10-inch Fruit Tart:

2 eggs

½ c. sugar (vary the sugar anywhere from 1/4 to 1/2 cup, according to the sweetness of the fruit)
2 T. all-purpose flour
1 c. heavy cream
½ t. almond extract

In a small bowl, whisk the eggs with the sugar. Sift the flour over and whisk in. Add the cream and the almond extract and whisk until smooth.

Sweet Tart Dough:
1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter
6 T. granulated sugar
1 egg yolk
1 t. vanilla
1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/3 cake flour

Briefly cream the butter and sugar together until smooth. Beat in the egg yolk and the vanilla. Add the flours and mix until just 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 dough out to a thickness of 1/8- to 3/16-inch.  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 or the rolling pin 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 golden—10-15 minutes. (It is not necessary to fill this crust with pie weights.)

Note: This amount of dough is enough for 1 ½ 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.

Pasta with Zucchini & Basil—a Favorite Summer Recipe

Instead of A Cooking Life—in Pursuit of Everyday Excellence, I could probably have called my blog Pasta and Cake—Every Day, which would have summed up my personal eating habits pretty well. But since this blog isn't just about what I eat, it would have been a somewhat limiting title. However, people who read my blog will be able to count on frequent posts featuring fresh, seasonal pastas. I really do enjoy pasta, and—all joking aside—it easily makes an appearance on my dinner table a couple of times a week.

Today's post features a simple, very fast, pasta that is truly one of my favorite pasta recipes for summer. The sauce can literally be made in the time that it takes to bring the water to the boil and cook the pasta. The recipe is from Susan Herrmann Loomis's Italian Farmhouse Cookbook. If you don't own any of Susan's cookbooks, I highly recommend them. I was fortunate to get to spend some time working with Susan at her home in France and I know that she is detailed in her research and meticulous in the testing of her recipes. Susan's cookbooks reflect an in depth knowledge of, and an admiration for, the cultures that she writes about. She is also a very fine cook and a good teacher—I learned a lot from her.

I frequently make this pasta exactly as it is written in the book. But I have recently begun to add lemon zest and toasted pine nuts and I think that this is the way I like this pasta the best...for the present, at least. The recipe would also be good with a little smashed garlic, or maybe a few chopped black olives or some halved cherry tomatoes. But I have refrained from adding too much to the recipe because part of the beauty of it is its simplicity. I often think that one of the biggest mistakes that young cooks (and some experienced ones) make is adding too many things to a dish—making for dishes that are muddy in flavor because they are so overwhelming to the palate. Sometimes one or two ingredients is all you need. If they are beautiful, pristine ingredients, there is nothing better. So, if you don't have lemons or pine nuts on hand, rest assured this pasta is very good with basil and zucchini alone.

Pasta with Baby Zucchini & Basil

1/3 c. extra virgin olive oil
1 c. (gently packed) fresh basil leaves, cut into thin ribbons
1 lb. penne, farfalle, fusilli, or any other short, sturdy pasta
1 lb. small zucchini, trimmed and cut into very thin rounds (this works best with a mandoline slicer)
6 T. grated Parmesan

Place the oil in a large bowl along with the basil; stir to make sure the basil is completely coated with the oil.

 Bring 6 quarts of water to the boil in a large stock/pasta pot. Add 2 to 3 T. of salt. Add the penne and cook until almost al dente—it should still be quite firm in the center. Add the zucchini rounds and stir. Continue to cook until the penne is al dente and the zucchini is tender—this should take 1 to 2 minutes. Drain.

Add the pasta and zucchini to the basil oil and toss to combine. 

Add the Parmesan and toss again. Add some of the pasta water if the pasta seems stodgy or dry (for this dish you may need as much as 1/4 c. of the pasta water). Taste and correct the seasoning. Serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6.

My Variation: Add the zest of 1 large lemon and 1/4 c. toasted pine nuts to the olive oil with the basil.

Recipe from Italian Farmhouse Cookbook by Susan Herrmann Loomis)