Crispy Chickpea and Dill Barley Salad

Last weekend I went to a barbecue and -- aside from the 40 lbs of ribs gracing the grill -- one of the dishes that stole the show was a chickpea and green bean salad created by my esteemed colleague Alison Roman. A simple ode to the season, kissed with just the right amount of fresh dill, it's one of those dishes that arrests your palate with its flavor. Here I riffed on the concept, adding grilled fennel and snap peas to my salad, tossing in some barley to bulk it up, and rendering my chickpeas crispy for textural interest. I anticipate I'll be playing with this theme quite often this summer...

Chickpea and Dill Barley Salad with Grilled Fennel & Snap Peas

3 cups mixed greens and herbs
1 1/2 cups cooked barley
1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
2-3 cups snap peas
1 fennel bulb
1/4 cup (or more) freshly chopped dill
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Olive oil
Honey
Ground ginger
Salt and pepper

Heat grill to medium-high (alternatively turn on broiler if using oven). Wash fennel bulb and remove fronds and top stems. Slice along the vertical into about 1/4-inch slices, keeping the base in tact. Season both sides with salt and pepper and drizzle with olive oil. Wash snap peas, pat dry, and drizzle with olive oil. Grill (or broil) fennel and snap peas (separately) until charred slightly. (Fennel will need several minutes on each side, snap peas can be tossed periodically to ensure an even char). Set aside, and when the fennel is cool enough to handle, chop it roughly.

Spread rinsed chickpeas onto a sheet pan and put under the broiler for about 8-10 minutes, until brown and crispy. (Give the pan a shake halfway through cooking).

For the lemon-ginger vinaigrette, juice 1/2 lemon and add a drizzle of honey and 1/2 tsp ground ginger. Whisk with olive oil until preferred taste/consistency is reached (I like a 1:1 ratio of lemon juice to olive oil). Season with salt and pepper.

In a large mixing bowl, combine 3 cups mixed greens and herbs and about 1 1/2 cups barley (I had some grain already cooked, but should you be starting from scratch, you'll need about 45 minutes for the barley to cook. Farro or another toothsome grain could be a great alternative here). Add in the grilled fennel and snap peas, crispy chickpeas, and about 1/4 cup or more freshly chopped dill. Drizzle with vinaigrette, season with salt and pepper, and toss. Let sit about 5 minutes, garnish with more dill as needed, and serve.

No-Knead Bread

I've been on a bread baking jag lately. After a series of disappointing loaves (too dense, too crumbly, bad crust, the list unfolds...), I was discouraged by the process, but resolved to break the spell. Was I letting it rise too long? Not long enough? Was the water too hot? Did I knead it properly? Was it too drafty or too cold in my apartment? Was the flour ratio off? Really, it could have been any of the former. Baking yeast-risen bread is a delicate science -- it takes precision and patience to get it just right. And even when you think you've finally nailed the ratios, something as minor as oven temp could affect the end result.

So, after chucking a few too many loaves, I decided to go back to basics. I pared down the variables and revisited a technique that has been known to perform time again -- the no-knead loaf. It's a process that takes kneading out of the equation entirely, developed (or at least made famous) by Sullivan Street Bakery guru Jim Lahey and fondly embraced by many-a-baker. You simply combine your ingredients -- a humble cast of flour, salt, water, yeast and let time do the work. It's nearly effortless and yes, it got me out of my rut.
 

Now it's almost a ritual. I'll wake up, mix my dough, let it rise while I go to work, come home and bake it that night. I find my best loaves have a few common denominators: (a) they sit for at least a 12-hour first rise (up to 18), followed by a 1.5 to 2-hour proof (second rise), (b) they have a flour ratio of 2:1 bread flour to another flour (whole-wheat and rye are both proven sidekicks, but I plan to experiment with others), and (c) they bake inside a pre-heated enamelware pot (this creates the effect of an oven inside an oven, yielding an exceptional crust).

After you do it a few times you'll recognize the feel of a dough that's bound to be successful. When I was mixing one test loaf (a combo of white whole wheat and spelt flour), I knew from the get-go that it was destined to fail. It just didn't have the same texture as the bread flour versions I had made. (I baked it anyway, and yeah, it was terribly dense and dry and landed in the trash.) With bread flour the result has much more air to its crumb. But hey, you win some, you lose some. On to the next one.

Basic Recipe for Mixed Flour No-Knead Bread
[Adapted from Jim Lahey]
 2 cups bread flour, more for dusting
1 cup secondary flour (whole-wheat, rye, or another)
1/2 tsp active dry yeast
1 tsp sea salt
1 2/3 cup water
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed

In a large bowl combine flours, yeast and salt. Add water, and stir until combined; dough will be sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rise at least 12 hours (up to about 18) at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees. When dough's surface is dotted with bubbles, it is ready. Dust a work surface with flour and turn dough out onto it. Sprinkle dough with flour and fold it over on itself a few times. Shape it into a round and wrap dough in a flour-dusted cotton towel, seam side down. Let dough rise another 1.5-2 hours, until double in size. It will retain a finger poke when it is ready.

About 30 minutes before the dough is ready, heat oven to 450 dgF. Place a heavy cast-iron, enamel or ceramic pot in the oven as it heats (I use my 5-qt Le Creuset). When dough is fully risen, turn it into the preheated pot, seam side up. Cover pot with lid and bake for 30 minutes. Remove lid and let bread bake another 15-20 minutes, until golden brown. Cool for at least 15 minutes before slicing and serving.

Cashew Pesto with Mint & Spinach

Ever since my roommate alerted me to a cashew pesto she and her mother enjoyed the other day, it's been stuck in my head. Today I toyed with a version of my own. Have to say, it's unlike any other pesto I've ever had -- and til now I've been partial to those of the pistachio variety -- but there's something about cashews (perhaps their inherent creaminess) that bodes especially well with this type of sauce. It's freakin' tasty. I've already tossed it with pan-roasted radishes and shmeared it on homemade bread (not to mention taking a spoon to the bowl). If it survives the night, I've got fresh pasta plans for the stuff tomorrow night. Unlike other pesto recipes, it doesn't use cheese (and it doesn't need it). Green magic from merely roasted cashews, fresh mint, raw spinach, garlic, olive oil, sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. I didn't really measure, rather, added and tasted as I manned the food processor til I found the perfect balance. I urge you to do the same. Gather the best ingredients you can (more than you think you need) and test til you get it right. Too nutty? Add more herbs. Not creamy enough? Add more olive oil. (And be sure to season generously with salt and pepper.) Have fun with it. Cooking without measurements will make you a more attune cook, trust me.

Spring Salad

This has to be one of the best salads I've had all spring. It ropes a range of palatal voices (the tangy, the smoky, the salty, the zesty, the fresh) into a conversation that is rich and motivated by the season (as any good salad should). The only addition I would make next time is to shower it all with grated hard-boiled egg -- a decadent garnish exposed to me by a local fave, Flatbush Farm.

SMOKED TROUT AND ASPARAGUS SALAD WITH MUSTARD SEED VINAIGRETTE
[Measurements are approximate, adjust as needed]

Large bunch fresh arugula (the fresher the better)
Small bunch purple asparagus
About 20 Kalamata olives, pitted and halved
About 6-8oz. smoked trout
Freshly grated parmesan, for garnish
Zest of one lemon
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Olive oil
Black pepper
Kosher salt
Dijon mustard
Mustard seeds

Wash and trim the ends off of several spears of asparagus. Using a vegetable peeler, shave the spears along the vertical into thin ribbons (it's easiest to do this by laying them flat, holding the top steady and peeling away from you).

In a large bowl, combine arugula, asparagus ribbons and roughly 20 pitted kalamata olives (or any olives you like, for that matter).

In a small bowl whisk together juice of 1/2 lemon, half of the lemon zest, 1/2 tsp dijon mustard, a scattering of mustard seeds. Slowly whisk in olive oil until preferred flavor and consistency is reached. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Drizzle vinaigrette around the sides of the salad bowl (allowing it to slowly wrap around the ingredients without over-soaking them). Add chunks of smoked trout and toss salad with your hands to distribute vinaigrette evenly. Garnish with freshly grated Parmesan and more lemon zest. Season with salt and pepper.

Farro Risotto with Sunchokes & Sage

Meals in the dark months are rooted in comfort. The fresh produce we craved in the warm weather is seemingly cast aside in favor of soul-warming, bone-thawing, gut-sticking dishes. For the cheesy-starchy fiends, old friends like mac-n-cheese and lasagna hit the table in heavy rotation. For the dixie-centric, fried chicken, creamy grits. For the trendy, ramen, which the Japanese have had in their pocket for centuries (...and I don't mean the microwavable noodle packets). For the patient, slow-braised short-ribs. 

But my ultimate is probably risotto. Dense with grains and cheese, it's the kind of dish that's both hearty, wholesome, and an inviting canvas for flavor-play. I prefer a more toothsome texture to my risotto, so instead of classic Arborio rice, I typically employ grains that can stand up to a long simmer -- see: barley, farro, etc. My flavor stance is simple and rustic -- strong herbs, earthy roots, often mushrooms for a hit of umami. Departing from my go-to trio (mushrooms, thyme and manchego), this time I turned to the underrated sunchoke. The 'chokes got a quick solo roast (which brings out their natural nuttiness), before being folded into the simmering farro with bold sage and tart pecorino tuscano. Here's til the thaw. 

FARRO RISOTTO WITH SUNCHOKES & SAGE

1 large onion, diced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 lb sunchokes, peeled and sliced
4 cups chicken stock, plus 1 cup water
1 cup farro
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup pecorino tuscano, plus more as needed
Fresh sage
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper

Heat oven to 400dgF. Peel and slice sunchokes; toss with olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast sunchokes until they begin to brown -- about 10-15 minutes. Check occasionally, they should be slightly tender, but not too soft.

Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, bring chicken stock and water to a boil, then reduce heat and keep stock warm over low.

In a large saucepan, heat 1 Tbsp olive oil over high; add onion and cook, stirring frequently until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook an additional minute, stirring frequently. (Turn down the heat slightly if garlic begins to burn.) Add 1 cup farro, stir, and cook until grains are coated and glistening, about 1 minute. Season with salt and pepper. 

Add 1/2 cup dry white wine and cook until most of the liquid is absorbed. Add 1 cup of the warm stock and cook, stirring frequently, until liquid is absorbed. Continue adding the stock, 1/2 cup at a time, stirring after each addition. When the liquid is nearly absorbed, add 1/2 cup more. Check the farro's doneness after about 25 minutes; it should be slightly tender but retain it's bite. It may take up to 30-35 minutes -- and you may not have to use all of the stock. 

When farro is cooked, stir in the roasted sunchokes. Season again with salt and pepper and fold in 2 Tbsp (or more) freshly chopped sage, plus 1/2 cup grated pecorino tuscano (feel free to use another cheese of your choice -- parmesan and manchego are fine substitutes). Adjust measurements to preferred taste and serve immediately. 

Dinner Tonight

A simple feast: pumpernickel sunflower boule, moules in white wine & garlic sauce, and cream of celeriac soup with orange zest, chives and olive oil. Happy Sunday.

For the soup: 
1 yellow onion, diced
4 medium-sized celeriac, peeled and chopped
4 cups vegetable stock
1 cup water
Sea salt
Black pepper
Olive oil
Zest of one orange
Fresh chives, finely chopped

Heat 2 Tbsp olive oil in medium pot. Add onion and cook until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add vegetable stock and water and bring to a boil. Add celeriac and reduce heat to simmer. Simmer until celeriac are very soft, about 20-30 minutes. Season soup with salt and pepper, stir in orange zest, and remove from heat. Allow to cool for several minutes before transferring entire mixture to a food processor to puree. (Alternatively, you can leave the soup in the pot and puree with an immersion blender). Puree until silky smooth, (add more water if mixture is too thick). Return to pot and reheat to desired temperature. Serve garnished with chives and a drizzle of olive oil. 


For the mussels: 
1 lb fresh mussels, rinsed and scrubbed
2 cups dry white wine
5 garlic cloves, minced
4 shallots, minced
Sea salt
Black pepper
Fresh parsley
Olive oil

Rinse and scrub 1 lb fresh mussels under cold running water. Remove beards if they aren't already and discard. Toss any open mussels that refuse to close after a few squeezes, as they are dead. Heat 2 Tbsp olive oil in medium pot. Add shallots and garlic and cook, stirring frequently, until soft and fragrant. Add white wine, salt and pepper, and simmer for 5 minutes. Add mussels to the pot, cover and increase heat to high. Cook until mussels open, about 5 minutes. Scatter with fresh parsley. 

"I will call you by name, I will share your road. But hold me fast, hold me fast, 'cause I'm a hopeless wanderer."

[Clifden, County Galway]

Bolognese, Built.

There's nothing tame about this sauce -- a bolognese built around lamb and mortadella, reinforced with red wine, crushed tomatoes and cream, and bolstered with toasted spices and fresh herbs. "Built" being the key metaphor here. A great bolognese is not just cooked, it is crafted -- with thoughtful ingredients and ample patience. Rush it and yes, you'll have a perfectly edible sauce, but it'll be like limestone compared to the beautiful marble of a slowly simmered bolognese. What I really love about this version, which I adapted from Terrence Gallivan and Seth Siegel-Gardner of Houston's The Pass & Provisions, is the brilliant addition of a lemon-pistachio gremolata (which I transformed into a pesto), which delivers a most-welcome kiss of brightness to cut through the rich sauce. (The lamb also imparts a unique earthiness that you wouldn't get from pork or beef.) Believe me, this is one that'll impress guests, kids.

LAMB AND MORTADELLA BOLOGNESE WITH MEYER LEMON-PISTACHIO PESTO
[Adapted from Tasting Table's Sous Chef Series]

BOLOGNESE
1 pound lamb shoulder, cut into 2-inch pieces
1/2 pound mortadella
1 tsp whole black peppercorns
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 whole star anise
3 fresh basil leaves
2 large sprig fresh oregano
1 large sprig fresh thyme
1 dried bay leaf
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 celery stalks, finely chopped
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 large yellow onions, finely chopped
1 large carrot, finely chopped
1 cup dry red wine
½ cup red wine vinegar
Two 28-ounce cans crushed tomatoes
1 cup whole milk
½ cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
Kosher salt
Cheesecloth
1 pound fresh pasta

PESTO
½ cup pistachios
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
½ bunch flat-leaf parsley leaves, finely chopped
Zest and juice of 2 Meyer lemons
1 teaspoon kosher salt

To make the bolognese: Freeze the chunks of lamb shoulder and mortadella for 20 minutes until semi-frozen. Pulse in a food processor to break them down into a rough-textured mixture. [Alternatively, if you have a meat grinder: Fill a large bowl with ice and water and set a medium bowl inside of the ice water bath. Using a meat grinder or the grinder attachment of a stand mixer, force the pork shoulder and then the mortadella through the grinder and into the bowl set within the ice water bath.] Set meat aside.

Heat a large pot over medium; add black peppercorns, fennel seeds and star anise. Cook, stirring often, until fennel seeds are golden [2-3 minutes]. Remove from heat and transfer spices to a large double-folded square of cheesecloth. Add basil, oregano, thyme and bay leaf to cheesecloth and secure with butcher's twine. Set aside. 

Heat olive oil in same pot over high. When oil is hot [after about 1 minute] add ground lamb and mortadella and cook until meat is browned [about 8-10 minutes]. Use slotted spoon to transfer meat to a bowl. Add celery, garlic, onions, and carrot to the pot and cook, stirring often, until vegetables caramelize [6-8 minutes]. 

Return meat to the pot with the vegetables and add the red wine. Stir, scraping up any brown bits from the bottom of the pot, add red wine vinegar, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and cook until liquid is reduced by half [about 10 minutes]. Add crushed tomatoes and milk. Reduce heat to low and simmer for about 2 hours. Stir in grated Parmesan, taste, and adjust seasoning if necessary. 

To make the pesto: Toast the pistachios in a 350dg oven for about 6-8 minutes. Transfer to a plate to cool. When nuts have cooled, transfer to a food processor and pulse until crushed, but not powder-fine. Add olive oil, parsley, lemon juice and zest. Pulse to combine, adjusting measurements as necessary for taste/consistency. Stir in salt. 

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente, then drain and drizzle with olive oil. When ready to serve, plate (or bowl) pasta, spoon bolognese over the top and finish with a large dollop of the lemon-pistachio pesto. 

Java Gingerbread

There are a handful of things that are unequivocally charged with Christmas spirit. Like fresh snow. The scent of pine. Mulled wine on the lips. And of course, gingerbread. The fellowship of molasses and ginger is a dark magic -- laced with spice and strangely addictive. This year I elevated a simple gingerbread recipe, binding the usual suspects with olive oil for an especially moist loaf, and bolstering the flavor with brewed coffee. The holidays may be over, but having this quickbread on hand is a ticket to the season any time of year.

JAVA GINGERBREAD 
[Yield: 1 loaf]

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp sea salt
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
1 large egg
1 cup dark molasses
1 cup hot brewed coffee

Heat oven to 350 dgF. In a medium bowl, combine dry ingredients: flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, salt. In a larger bowl, whisk together olive oil, brown sugar, and the egg. In a small bowl, stir together the hot coffee and molasses until combined. 

Add about 1/3 of the dry ingredients to the oil-sugar-egg mixture, whisking until just combined. Add half of the molasses mixture, stir to combine, and then continue alternating dry ingredients and molasses in increments, until all ingredients are incorporated. Be careful not to overmix. 

Grease a loaf pan and pour in the prepared batter. Bake for 50-55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the bread emerges clean. Cool in the pan for 5-10 minutes before turning it out onto a rack to cool completely. 

When bread has cooled, dust with powdered sugar, slice, and serve. 

Bourbon-Cardamom Apple Cake

   This recipe was born from a 3-tupperware overstock of apple pie filling (bestowed upon me by the Bon Appetit test kitchen after our Thanksgiving cooking marathon for Sandy victims in the Rockaways). I accepted the fruit, torn between reluctance to bake a pie and gratitude that I now had an answer to the question of what I was going to bring to Thanksgiving. As I began considering recipes, I tasted a few slices and realized that apples with brown sugar, a bit of flour and lemon juice held much more potential than being baked in a regular-ol pie. Then I opened my e-mail inbox and found my answer: FOOD52's recipe for a Genius Apple Cake. Bingo. But I wasn't content with Genius alone. Instead I went more Boozy-Mad-Scientist with this guy. Grabbed some bourbon, perfumed it with one of my favorite baking spices -- cardamom, and tasted as I went to make sure the sugar ratios were just right (since my apples were already sugared). Baking typically doesn't lend itself to winging-it, and honestly, I had no idea if it would even turn out. For the next hour-plus I held my breath, but as it rose in the tube pan I rigged with a shot glass, I knew that I'd at least have a looker of a dessert, even if it didn't wow the palate. Turns out, it was a damn tasty crowd pleaser -- not too sweet, a hint of bourbon threaded throughout -- the perfect pillow for a dollop of ice cream. And it was even better the next day for breakfast.

BOURBON-CARDAMOM APPLE CAKE

[Inspired by Teddie's Apple Cake]

2 cups flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 1/2 cups safflower or vegetable oil

3 eggs 

1 tsp salt

1 1/2 tsp cinnamon

1 1/2 tsp ground cardamom

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup bourbon

1 cup chopped, roasted almonds, or walnuts(optional)

3 cups peeled, cored, thickly sliced apples*

Brown sugar

A drizzle or two of honey

Powdered sugar, for dusting

*My apples were already mixed with brown sugar, flour and lemon juice, then I added a drizzle honey and more brown sugar to taste as I mixed the batter. If you are starting from scratch, I recommend peeling, slicing and mixing your apples with brown sugar and lemon juice, and allowing to sit for at least several hours to the natural sugars and juices of the fruit can collect. It'll yield a naturally sweeter cake. 

1. Heat oven to 350 dg F. Grease a 9-inch baking pan (or tube pan if you have one). 

2. Sift together flours, salt, cinnamon, cardamom, baking soda. In a separate bowl whisk together oil, eggs, vanilla and bourbon. Stir in dry ingredients gradually. Fold in apples and almonds, stirring until well-combined.

3. Pour batter into pan, spreading evenly, and bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Allow to cool in pan completely. Dust with powdered sugar and serve at room temperature. Delicious a la mode. 

Reset, Go.

Two months since my last post. You know it's been too long when you start to get concerned e-mails from strangers: "You haven't posted anything since August and I wondered if all is well?" All is well. Crazy, but well. [Begin: Excuse] It's been a season of change, with a new job, new apartment, and the chaos/stress that ensues with each. All have arrested my posting frequency -- a pause I didn't intend...alas, time has been a fickle friend. But I sense a revival on the horizon. I've been building up my ammo. Garnering bi-coastal inspiration. There's a roster of things I want to make. And will. For now, I leave you with an Insta-glimpse of how I'm livin'...

 I've been cleaning out old shelves...and stocking new ones.

 Setting up a new place to shoot...and putting it to use.

Experimenting... and outfitting. 

 Traveling...

...making pictures... 

...and getting inspired.

[Promise I'll be back soon with a recipe to share. Stay tuned, my friends.]

Molasses Granola

When you've nailed it, you know. I've been baking my own granola for a while, and swore never again to buy it because a) it's super easy to make, and b) each batch is like a personal mood board -- ("Oh, last time I used almonds and currants? This time I want cashews and coconut.") But I recently broke my store-no-more promise and tried a version from KIND. I was instantly charmed. With a glance at the ingredients, my mouth curled into a grin -- before me was a list of familiar, pronounceable names -- ideal ammo for a DIY granolateer.

KIND uses gluten-free ingredients, and their base includes a mix of whole grains like amaranth, quinoa, oats, millet and buckwheat. I simplified a bit and used ingredients I had on hand, pairing rolled oats with quinoa and flaxseed meal, chocking it up with crushed walnuts and flax seeds, and dressing it in olive oil, maple syrup, and a game-changing ingredient: molasses. Not sure why I'd never thought to use the viscous player before, but when the granola came out of the oven I knew I had found my secret weapon. Molasses lends a deep, dark flavor that weaves itself in and over the oats and seeds in a way that I have never achieved with my maple or honey-sweetened batches. I don't know, maybe I'm partial to products of my own creation, but I think I may have one-upped KIND on their own recipe...

MOLASSES GRANOLA

1 1/2 cup rolled oats 

1/4 cup raw quinoa 

1/4 cup golden flaxseed meal 

1/2 cup crushed walnuts 

2 Tbsp flaxseeds 

2 Tbsp sunflower seeds 

2 Tbsp olive oil 

2 Tbsp maple syrup 

1 Tbsp + 1 tsp molasses 

 Sea salt, to taste

Heat oven to 300 dgF. Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl; toss gently. Add oil, maple syrup, and molasses; stir until ingredients are evenly coated. Spread granola onto a parchment-lined rimmed baking sheet. Bake for about 30-35 minutes, stirring every 15, until toasted and golden. Allow to cool completely before serving or storing. Lasts several weeks in an airtight container/jar.

Simply Gazpacho

It's an unwritten adage: When August gives you ripe tomatoes, make gazpacho. The raw, chilled soup has become the quintessential celebration of summer produce at its freshest. It's incredibly easy, can be whipped up sans stove, and doesn't require a ton of ingredients because the select few it includes are just that good -- (and be sure to use the best). Even more appealing is that you don't have to follow directions exactly; the recipe is more like a sketch -- and one that invites coloring outside the lines. 

Despite the fact that it can be made differently every time, tradition holds gazpacho to a few basic essentials: tomatoes (the ripest you can procure), cucumber (or zucchini), onion, garlic, olive oil, vinegar...and a blender. Sometimes bread is added, sometimes not. Sometimes a hot chile, or a bell pepper, or an earthy herb like cilantro or basil. It's infinitely variable -- you could even use fruit like grape or melon -- but here I channeled the classic version. Simple and bursting with tomato-y flavor, it's bulked up with rustic bread -- both in the soup and on top as crunchy homemade croutons. Diced avocado and shavings of manchego add subtle creamy notes that balance the fresh vibrancy of the soup. Whatever you do, serve it super cold; there's nothing that tastes more refreshing in this August heat. [Note: It's even better the next day, after the flavors have had time to chill and mingle]. 

GAZPACHO WITH HOMEMADE CROUTONS
[Adapted from Rebecca Meeker, Chef de Cuisine at Congress]

3 large ripe tomatoes, coarsely chopped

1 red bell pepper, coarsely chopped

1 English cucumber, peeled and diced

2 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled

1 medium onion, peeled and diced

2 slices rustic country bread, crust removed and cubed

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp red wine vinegar, plus more to taste

Sea salt

Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Tabasco sauce, to taste (optional)

In a large bowl, combine tomatoes, bell pepper, cucumber, garlic, cubed bread, olive oil, vinegar and 1 tsp sea salt. Use your hands to crush the ingredients together. Place in the refrigerator and allow to chill for at least an hour. 

Remove gazpacho from the fridge, transfer to a blender or food processor, and puree until smooth, working in batches if necessary. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper. If you want to give it heat, add some tabasco sauce -- a little at a time -- stirring and adjusting flavor as preferred. Chill again. 

To make homemade croutons: roughly cube another slice or two of bread (adjust depending on how many croutons you want). Heat a skillet over medium, add olive oil and swirl to coat the bottom. When hot, add cubed bread and cook, stirring occasionally, until crispy on all sides (about 6 to 8 minutes). Serve over chilled gazpacho with diced avocado, a drizzle of olive oil, and freshly grated manchego cheese. 

Corn & Black Bean Burgers

Veggie burgers get a bad rap. And to be fair to the carnivores that scorn them, it's true, aside from shape, there's barely any resemblance between patty-shaped veggies and the juice-dripping ground meat we Americans have established as the appropriate manifestation of the word "burger." Still, there is much to be argued for the vegetarian counterpart. For one, veggie burgers demand creativity -- since ground vegetables can't hold their own against the grill like meat can, they need some backup. This is where things get fun. Gena Hamshaw, author of the blog Choosing Raw, suggests the "you pick (at least) three" method of curating your veggie burger base. This should include a veggie (corn, zucchini, mushrooms, beets, sweet potato...), a grain (ie. quinoa, oats, rice, breadcrumbs...), a legume (beans, chickpeas, lentils...), and/or a nut (walnuts, pistachios, almonds, cashews, sunflower seeds, pepitas...) From this formula, the possibilities are limitless, and the process becomes a challenge to find the tastiest combination. 

For my burger I pulled from all four categories--

Veggie: Fresh corn

Grain: Quinoa

Legume: Black beans

Nut: Pistachio

Then I spiced the mixture up with cayenne, coriander and cumin, channeling the Southwest flavors suggested by the corn-black bean duo, and finished it off with fresh lime juice and basil. The flavor was so awesome that it was hard not to skip the burger-making and just take a spoon to the bowl. (And really, you could just stop right there and start dunking chips). But I resisted the urge, formed my patties, and grilled them up. Despite the fact that they are indeed more prone to crumbling than meat burgers, that shortcoming is forgiven when you take a bite. The slightly charred crust gives way to an explosion of flavor that summersaults over your tastebuds -- at once fresh, nutty, sweet, spicy. It won't matter that this burger isn't a juicy mass of meat -- it's not supposed to be. 

CORN & BLACK BEAN BURGERS

2 Tbsp olive oil, divided 

1 clove garlic, minced 

1 cup onion, chopped finely 

1 1/2 cups fresh corn off the cob* 

1/2 cup shelled pistachios 

Salt and pepper, to taste  

1 1/2 cup cooked black beans 

1 cup cooked quinoa (1/3 cup dry) 

2/3 cups water 

1 Tbsp lime juice, plus more to taste  

2 Tbsp fresh basil, chopped 

Dash cayenne 

Ground cumin, to taste
Ground coriander, to taste

Rinse 1/3 cup quinoa, place in a small saucepan with 2/3 cup water and some salt; bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer with lid ajar for about 15 minutes, until water is absorbed and you see thin rings detaching the quinoa grains. Fluff with a fork, cover, and set aside.

Heat olive oil in a medium skillet over medium. Add minced garlic and chopped onion; saute until onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Add corn and saute an additional few minutes until heated through. *Note: In this batch I used leftover raw corn salad with minced onion, lime juice, cumin, olive oil, coriander. 

Meanwhile, pulse shelled pistachios into a course meal in a food processor with some salt and pepper. Add the black beans, quinoa, lime juice and basil and pulse to combine (you want the beans to break down slightly and the mixture to hold together, but the consistency should still have some texture, so don't process for too long). Transfer to a mixing bowl and fold in the sauteed corn and onions, using your hands to combine. Season with cumin, coriander, cayenne pepper, salt and black pepper, to taste. Shape mixture into 6 round patties.

Heat grill pan or cast iron skillet over medium-high. [Note: You can also attempt on an open grill, but be wary of the patties' crumbly tendency on the flip. You might want to use a grill pan let you lose half of the burger through the grate.] If cooking on stovetop, heat a bit of olive oil in your skillet then add burgers and cook for about 5 minutes on each side (again, careful on the flip).

Alternatively, you can cook the burgers in the oven at 375 dgF for about 25 minutes (flipping halfway). I like to do a skillet cook first to get both sides brown and crispy, then finish off in the oven to help them heat through and hold their shape. (About 3 to 4 minutes each side in the skillet, then 10 additional in the oven.)

Orecchiette with Melon, Pancetta, Feta & Mint

It's hard not to be charmed by the salty-sweet marriage of pancetta and melon. (And with a summer crop that's sweeter than ever, now's the time to reach for the melon baller.) Here the classic pair is joined by fresh mint and tangy feta in a bright pasta salad that satisfies every taste bud.

ORECCHIETTE WITH MELON, PANCETTA, FETA & MINT

[Adapted from Bon Appetit]

2 ounces thinly sliced pancetta

6 ounces orecchiette pasta

Sea salt

3 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

2 Tbsp white wine vinegar

2 cups cantaloupe, scooped with melon-baller

1/3 cup coarsely chopped fresh mint, divided

1 small red onion, thinly sliced

Pinch crushed red pepper flakes

Freshly ground black pepper

1 ounce crumbled feta

Heat oven to 350dgF. Place pancetta in a single layer on a large rimmed baking sheet. Bake until brown and crispy, about 20 minutes. (Even faster: place pancetta between folded layers of paper towels on a microwave-safe plate and microwave on high for about 5 minutes.) Let pancetta stand until cool enough to handle, then break into bite-size pieces.

Meanwhile, cook pasta in a medium pot of boiling salted water, stirring occasionally, until al dente. Drain pasta; run under cold water to cool. Drain and set aside.

Whisk oil and vinegar in a large bowl. Add cooked pasta, melon, red onion, half of the mint and pancetta pieces, and a pinch of red pepper flakes. Toss to coat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. To serve, garnish with crumbled feta and sprinkle remaining pancetta and mint over top.