shenanigans

I am bad at having a blog. All I want to do is climb some big ridges, slackline with my summer friends, and eat wheat toast or spinach salads for every meal.

sufferin succotash

Slow cooking is a winter sport. Summer is for throwing things together haphazardly in order to not lose any time in the sun. No patience for fussy food in august. In the last days before classes start again, I'm all about quick and fresh and big. Make succotash and eat it outside, and save the shenanigans until september.

Succotash

sweet corn, from 3 ears
8oz lima beans
small red (medium-hot) pepper, chopped
2-3 scallions, chopped
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
juice of 1/4 lime
1 Tbsp. butter
salt and pepper

Add the husked corn into a large pot of boiling water and cook for 15 minutes, then let cool. To remove corn from the cob, hold the corn vertically and cut downward with a sharp knife.

I use frozen lima beans- cook according to the package directions, then toss with the corn, pepper, scallions and garlic. Pour the lime and butter over the mixture and combine, and finish with salt and pepper.

tartz

Peach season is short, take advantage of it! Same recipe as this blackberry shortbread tart. Different shape, different fruit. Substituted 1/2 whole wheat flour with good results.

Peach picking should be mandatory.

montana is the 4th largest state

Welcome back to me! Welcome back to fresh fruit and vegetables and sleeping in a real bed instead of a sleeping bag. Welcome back to not carrying a compass and a rock hammer and 3 liters of water around with me wherever I go. Welcome back, but there are no mountains here.

good food rocks

 So I'm leaving tomorrow for field school in Montana, which should be interesting and exciting and intense, but I've heard that the food will be miserable. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised? See you in August- I'll have to cook and eat lots of great things when I get back to make up for six weeks of camp food.

so simple so good

enough said

wine stained teeth

This is what I'd rather be doing instead.

Amor, ahora nos vamos a la casa
donde la enredadera sube por las escalas:
antes que llegues tú llegó a tu dormitorio
el verano desnudo con pies de madreselva.

Love, we're going home now,
Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
Even before you, the summer will arrive,
On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.
(Pablo Neruda) 

Sangria

1 bottle red wine
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar (or more, to taste)
juice of half a grapefruit
juice of half a lime
juice of half an orange
10 ounces seltzer
5 ounces light rum
diced or sliced fruit (oranges, strawberries, pineapple, peaches)
lots of ice

here's to me

I have a weekly dinner date with my friend Nina, but we postponed this week because it was too hot to be hungry. We made this pasta when we rescheduled, because it's great for when you want comfort food but don't want to feel after as if there's a lead weight in your stomach. I was tempted to call it Summer Mac 'n Cheese, but then I felt like I deserved more credit, so I call it Pasta Gabrielle. That's right, I named this dish after myself.

Its conception was complete luck. At the beginning of last summer, weshop was running out of fresh food and all I managed to come away with was a small tub of ricotta, some spinach, and a container of cherry tomatoes. I was trying to cook an impressive meal for someone I really liked, so I blame the pasta's success on wanting really hard for things to go well. Sometimes when I'm happy in the kitchen things just work themselves out, even if the odds are against me.

Pasta Gabrielle
or, pasta with lemony ricotta and tomatoes

1/2 pound penne, gemelli, or a similar shape (I like to use whole wheat)
1 cup ricotta
zest of one lemon
lots salt and pepper
3 Tblsp. olive oil
2 cloves garlic
10-15 ounces cherry tomatoes, halved
3-4 large handfuls of baby spinach, coarsely shredded or ripped

Boil water, add pasta and cook according to package directions.

In a small bowl, mix the ricotta, lemon zest, salt and pepper. Set aside.

Saute garlic and tomatoes in olive oil 7-9 minutes, or until tender and beginning to lose shape.

When the pasta is ready, drain and return to pot. Add ricotta mixture and spinach leaves, mixing until the spinach is wilted. Serve in bowls, and top each serving with a spoonful of tomatoes.

A breath of fresh air

I have a few nicknames for the summer of 2009, including "The Summer that Felt like Spring" (it rained for the first two months), "The Summer I Slept at the Barn" (my beautiful, wonderful horse kept getting sick and injured), and "The Benthic Macroinvertebrate Summer" (I identified so many aquatic larvae that I would see them in my sleep). But mostly, summer 2009 was The Lonely Summer. Most of my friends were away for the summer, and I spent too much time in the lab or at the barn to meet too many new people. Luckily, I liked my lab-mates and my horse was good company.

I did make one good friend over the summer, who helped me move out of my apartment, let me crash on his couch, and was generous with his time. As if I weren't indebted enough to Ross for being a kind friend when I needed one, there are two more things I owe him for. Firstly, he taught me that the best thing to do when grilling was to rub sweet corn with chili powder before I wrapped it in tin foil and grilled it, then to squeeze lime over it before I ate it. I will never again waste grilled corn by putting butter and salt on it.

Secondly, he invented a drink and named it "a breath of fresh air." It just contains gin, tonic, and grapefruit juice. We drank it with his housemates one night, and ended up swimming at midnight in a local pond. One of the things I remember most clearly about that night was that the trail in the woods leading to the pond was so dark that I couldn't see where I was stepping, although I drank enough gin not to worry. I also remember that it got suddenly light when the trees cleared and we reached the good swimming rock. Now I don't condone mixing drinking and swimming, in retrospect it was a terribly irresponsible thing to do, but that night was a breath of fresh air in my summer, and for that I'm not sorry.

Like I said, I am grateful to my friend for his kindness and for those two recipes, and I'd like to think that I contributed something worthwhile to our friendship as well. I'd like to think that I brought some important things to the table too, namely the ingredients for my peach salsa. Earlier in the night before the drinking and the swimming, I assembled this salsa to go over our grilled shrimp, but his housemates ended up eating the extra with bowls and spoons, like a sort of savory fruit-salad side-dish. The combination of sweet and acid is refreshing and delicious, and I would recommend it over grilled shrimp or served in a big bowl with tortilla chips for scooping.

I made this peach salsa again for my birthday dinner last week, and it was just as a big a hit as it was last summer. I love the colors in this recipe, it looks like confetti!

Peach salsa

3 *peaches, slightly under-ripe, coarsely diced
1 medium tomato, chopped
1 red or yellow bell pepper, coarsely chopped
1/2 bunch of cilantro, finely chopped
1 red onion, finely chopped

*this recipe also tastes great substituting mango for peach, if that's what you have available

Mix all ingredients in a large bowl, and serve at room temperature.

one 70 degree day

It's just turned into spring and already I'm anticipating graduation season and swimming in Miller's Pond and summer food. I love summer more than almost anything else in the world, and nothing makes me happier than a barbecue, especially if it's sunny and there's beer and friends. My only objection to barbecues is potato salad.

Potato salad has never been appetizing to me, maybe because I have only ever been served store-bought versions, served out of a plastic tub and disguised with enough mayonnaise to slather dozens of turkey sandwiches.

So, at a friend's beach birthday barbecue last summer, I volunteered to make the potato salad, if only so I would be able to eat it later. Ever heard of the term "winging it?" I am queen of winging it, especially in the kitchen. Sometimes I produce inedible disasters, but often, and especially (luckily) if the pressure's on, I produce something tasty. My potato salad recipe, which originated at that barbecue and has been edited and refined since then, is the result of winging it. My friend Eugenie, whose barbecue it was invented for, requests this potato salad regularly, and I make it for her happily because she enjoys it just as much.

So, even though it's spring outside (Happy Easter/Passover!), here's a little taste of summer, a small preview of what's to come this year.

Two-potato salad

6-8 small-ish yellow or red potatoes
2-3 medium-sized sweet potatoes
(Fun fact: Potatoes and sweet potatoes are not an everyday combination, but they go so well together because they're actually only very distantly related.)
one bunch scallions, chopped finely
one bunch parsley*, chopped finely
1/3 cup olive oil
3 Tblsp. distilled white vinegar
1 Tblsp. spicy brown or Dijon mustard
salt and pepper, to taste

Boil the potatoes (whole or halved, with skin on) 15-20 minutes, or until soft when poked with a fork. Drain and let cool.

Cube the potatoes (skin still on) into bite sized pieces, approximately 1/2 inch each, and return to the pot or place in a large bowl. If the potatoes are not completely cool, they will not cut cleanly and the end result will be more mashed potato-like in consistency than resembling potato salad, which I'm sure would also be delicious but is not the result we're going for here.



To the cubed potatoes, add the olive oil, vinegar, mustard, scallions, parsley, salt and pepper and toss to coat.

*Once, I substituted basil for parsley with tasty consequences, although I am a parsley fiend and still prefer my original intentions. Start with parsley, then consider that substitution as a possibility in the future.