Pink of Perfection

Granted, it flies in the face of my chatter yesterday about autumnal melancholia, but the thing is, it’s very hot here right now. Every morning I go into the living room and aim a fan straight at myself. Ice coffee is made. Brows sweat. And when a friend is coming over for lunch, the last thing I want to do is heat up the apartment. It’s time for a cold, assembled lunch.

I pretty much stole this menu from Lisa when she had me over on one of the most sickeningly steamy nights of the summer. Nothing could have seemed more appealing than the platter of deviled eggs and pile of cold radishes that waited for me on the coffee table. Except, perhaps, a beer float.

Anyway, it was all so perfect that I replicated the meal for a friend with a few riffs of my own: guacamole, deviled eggs, heirloom tomatoes drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with chives, a plate of nectarines. It’s the perfect picking food when you’re hungry but it’s so dang hot that mostly you want to sit across from your pretty friend on the floor, the fan whirring directly at both of you, plotting big plans from the comfort of the living room.

This August is so strange. Some days I can almost feel a shift in the air toward cooler days. We’ve slept with the air-conditioner off these past several nights, and someone told me they saw turning leaves (”Dry summer,” explained my brother). But then we’ll get that familiar wall of humidity or a fierce summer thunderstorm. The air-conditioner and sunglasses go back on.

I was at the farmer’s market last Friday. It had been a lovely day. The air was just right, I had spent the morning writing, and I met my co-workers for lunch in a restaurant that transported me to the New England seashore. (I ate a lobster cobb salad which, let’s be real, didn’t hurt.) I went to the market and asked myself what the quintessential elements of summer food were. Corn, tomatoes, basil. I scooped up all three, and figured the rest of it out on the subway ride home.

Very often, the simplest solution is the best. We scratch our head for days trying to figure out the right course of action: what should we make for dinner, how should we rearrange the furniture, how can we cheer up a friend? When the answer comes, we wonder what took so long.

And when the solution doesn’t come so easily, I am trying to remember that, like a road trip, the process of getting “there” is part of the journey. Practice and play are just as important, and actually, pretty damn fun.

Continue reading “Simple Summer Supper: Penne with Corn, Tomatoes, and Pesto” »

Last night, there was just the slightest hint of coolness in the air, like a whisper at my bedroom window. I’m not usually one to wish for coziness in summer, or even to wish for fall while the warm days are still stacked up; I know they’re out there, in September, with their softer, slanting light. They’ll come.

But even still, because of the air last night, and because of this cold I’ve been fighting (day 5 and counting), I’ve been craving a particular kind of comfort. The Boden catalog came, and I dogeared page after page of striped wool cardigans and plaid miniskirts. Yesterday I ate a bowl of cereal and watched Kate & Allie, and after pulling on my long white nightgown, I climbed in bed with Anne.

It was also, you might imagine, a night on which something like pasta with creamy zucchini sauce fit the bill perfectly for dinner. The question of what to do with the glut of August zucchini is one of my favorite cooking quandaries. I think to think that I’m providing my mom with lots and lots of ideas. This recipe, from the River Cottage Cookbook, is a very good one indeed. Sumptuously simple, this is most certainly a keeper.

Continue reading “Pasta with Creamy Zucchini Sauce” »

I’ve been a bad blogger lately, and I’m feeling pretty guilty about it. Usually I’m brimming over with ideas and recipes and things we have to talk about right now, but lately, maybe it’s midsummer malaise, I’ve got nothing.  We’ve been eating tomato sandwiches for dinner every night at my house, and I’ve been watching reality television in front of the air-conditioner. Last week especially, I had that unmistakable feeling of burn out: you just want to zone out until something fills you up.

And here’s what I’ve learned: Seriously, the Real Housewives are almost as good as therapy. When you are caught up in the crazy ass drama of wackadoos, there’s is literally no brain space left for you to worry about your future, your dirty laundry, or your love life. There’s something remarkably freeing about that.

So that’s what I’ve been up to these last several quiet days. I’ve been trying to fill up what feels like an empty cup. And I’ve been making lots and lots of sandwiches, which, as far as I’m concerned just might be the perfect summer supper. At first I hesitated to share these ideas with you, but then I thought, what the heck? You probably feel like slapping some mayo on some bread and calling it dinner every now and then, too. And to that I say: Girl, I feel you.

Continue reading “10 Super Fast Summer Sandwiches” »

I wish you could have seen me the day I made this tart. I felt like I was auditioning for a Martha Stewart Living picnic feature, but with glaring (and decidedly un-Martha) Sarah-isms: my tupperware was leaking, the napkins didn’t match, and I forgot the salad dressing. While Martha may have you feeling inadequate if you don’t print out templates to label everyone’s mason jar lemonade glass, with me as your guide, you will feel like the Queen of Togetherness if you just remember the cutlery. Perhaps it is only my way of justifying my own inadequacies, but I find the thrown-together, fly-by-night approach less precious and infinitely more charming.

Salad dressing and damp mismatched napkins aside, you can’t take away the raw materials I had to my advantage for this evening picnic: a community garden lush with hosta, roses, and vegetables, a small wooden gazebo to sit under, and at dusk, the brightest lightning bugs I’ve ever seen. Wedges of this rich tart still warm from the oven and Lillet spritzers weren’t too shabby either. And for dessert, Lisa brought a pint of blueberries and the lightest macaroons I’ve ever tasted (like Samoas for grown-ups, I said). Tuesday nights really don’t get much better.

I’ve been wanting to make pissaladière, a Provencal onion tart, for awhile, but it wasn’t until my Grand Diplôme Book 8 lesson on savory tarts popped up that I knew the hour was nigh. Even the anchovy-phobic might be able to appreciate the counterpart the little fishes play to the sweet pile of thyme-scented caramelized onions underneath them. Later on in the summer, I think this would make a great picnic on a very hot day with hard-boiled eggs and a sliced tomato salad.

Here’s hoping you all have a blissful, relaxing weekend perhaps including your inaugural glass of rosé for the season (I think I just might!).

Continue reading “French Friday: Pissaladière” »

I’ve spent my adult life thinking I didn’t like barley. Turns out, what turned me off were the bloated, mushy pearls in soup. But as a grain cooked to delicate, chewy perfection, I’ve discovered I’m a big, big fan. In fact, I’ve been eating it all week with my farmer’s market stir-fries instead of rice.

You’ve got to have a killer air-conditioner or an unseasonably cool day on your hands to want to make risotto in June, I realize, and I certainly wouldn’t advise standing over a hot pot on a humid day. But I made this a few weeks ago when I had a basically bare pantry, and despite the not-so-delicious looking picture, this was a total success. I don’t think I’ll go back to making classic risotto unless it’s for a special occasion, and I’m definitely ditching the time-sucking brown rice attempt. Barley risotto it is from now on!

One more thing: this recipe kind of falls into no-brainer territory. It’s warm and comforting and soothing, and I find it’s nice to have those basic recipes on hand for the days we’re feeling uninspired about dinner, or you spent the afternoon at the public pool and return home with that feeling of bone-weary exhaustion and a cool core temperature. Don’t you love that feeling? And more than any other supper prep that comes to mind, perhaps with the exception of chopping onions, risotto-making is therapeutic, for those days when you can’t handle the high energy action of flipping this and searing that or watching the broiler like a hawk lest something burst into flames. This is for those slower days when your brain’s not firing on all cylinders and you can just manage stirring.

Continue reading “$5 Dinner: Tomato and Parmesan Barley Risotto” »

Oh, lord, the humidity. It’s already got me in a state. My hands are clammy and my forehead is shiny. Let us just hope this is merely a transition to when I am suddenly glowy and crisp and fresh as a daisy. Seriously, how do people do that in summer? I will find this out in my next earthly incarnation, when I am rendered ethereal, rather than earthy.

(While we’re on the topic, generally speaking at least, does anyone have a non-greasy, everyday facial sunscreen that they love?)

I don’t have much to say today, so I will have to just cut to the facts: I have eaten this for three out of my last six meals. It is just what I needed in the wake of too much vacation: fresh, crisp, light, and lemony. I served it with a poached egg on top (no surprises there), but turn to whatever protein you like. Cold roasted chicken would be nice, cubes of tofu, a few chickpeas, or maybe even some flakes of smoked salmon. Oh, yes; that would be heavenly, indeed. And for the hot (and bothered?) among us, this is the perfect steamy day dinner or lunch. The stove stays on for mere moments, and you need only dirty one pan. Score one for the cooks in the battle against the summer heat!

Continue reading “$5 Dinner: Spring Vegetable Couscous” »

Back in the days when I woke up and traveled 45 minutes on a train to a job every morning, rainy days used to really get me down. Once I was in the office, there was something almost cozy about all us worker bees tucked into our cubicles while the wind hissed outside. But the getting out of bed was torturous. I have always struggled with the whole getting-out-of-bed ritual to begin with; add a dark, rainy day, and what little resolve I have goes poof.

I never imagined, though, then when my commute was as short as walking to the living room or neighborhood coffee shop, that rainy days would still be my nemesis. That I would still long to lounge and luxuriate. Or that after a few days of gray, I would want to drop it all and high-tail it to Mexico. Life just never stops serving us surprises, does it?

That’s a funny thing about finally getting what you want — it doesn’t always look or feel exactly how you thought it would. Call it human nature or a cruel joke, but so often when we get “there,” sometimes the scenery isn’t quite as breathtaking as we were anticipating. Blame our expectations.

But then, of course, there are the days when we expect nothing; when we’re just on a nondescript stretch of highway. Something about the slant of the light, the song on the radio, and the grip of our hands on the steering wheel creates a moment as breathtaking as a glimpse of the Grand Canyon. Perhaps even more so.

This has nothing to do with frittatas, of course, other than the fact that slices of this subtle, spring treat have sustained me morning, noon, and night these past few days. It is wholesome and simple, and perfect for these rainy days in May.

Continue reading “Baked Leek, Potato, and Parmesan Frittata” »