Farmers Market Gazpacho

Save running through a sprinkler, there is hardly anything more refreshing on a hot summer day than a cold cup of gazpacho. Even if the chilled tomato soup is not your jam, I urge you to try this recipe with the bounty of late summer produce available at the farmers markets right now—heirloom, cherry and grape tomatoes in all sorts of scarlet hues mean tons of contrastive yet complimentary nuanced flavors, and the supporting cast of cucumber, onion, and cubanelle peppers are locally abundant too. Basically, this Farmers Market Gazpacho recipe is a love letter to local produce—it’s excellent because it’s in season, making a simple puree of these vegetables in their raw element the best way to showcase their garden-fresh essence.

As I learned from my favorite lifestyle blog Cup of Jo, this NYT recipe is making the rounds. And while it will take you a whopping 7 minutes to whip up a batch (note I’ve omitted the straining step so prep is limited to chopping and blending), I encourage you to get fancy with the presentation as a fun way to glorify such a dazzling drinkable treat. I love the idea of serving the silky-smooth soup in frosted glasses or tumblers; you could even set out double shot glasses alongside a pitcher. With the sacredness of a fine dessert wine or aged spirit, I’ve been enjoying a small glass as soon as I get home from work each night; savoring every sip in obeisance to these precious final days of summer. 

Farmers Market Gazpacho (from New York Times)
Makes 8 to 12 servings (about 1 quart)

Ingredients:
About 2 pounds ripe red tomatoes, cored and roughly cut into chunks
1-2 Italian frying (cubanelle) pepper or another long, light green pepper, such as Anaheim, cored, seeded and roughly cut into chunks
1 cucumber, about 8 inches long, peeled and roughly cut into chunks (or 2 Kirbys)
1 small mild onion (white or red), peeled and roughly cut into chunks
1 clove garlic
2 teaspoons sherry vinegar, more to taste
Salt
¼ to ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil, more to taste, plus more for drizzling
1 piece of deeply toasted country bread, such as sourdough (optional, I added for extra thickness/creaminess)

Directions:
1. Combine tomatoes, pepper, cucumber, onion and garlic in a blender or, if using a hand blender, in a deep bowl. Add bread, if using. (If necessary, work in batches.) Blend at high speed until very smooth, at least 2 minutes, pausing occasionally to scrape down the sides with a rubber spatula.
2. With the motor running, add the vinegar and 2 teaspoons salt. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil. The mixture will turn bright orange or dark pink and become smooth and emulsified, like a salad dressing. If it still seems watery, drizzle in more olive oil until texture is creamy.
3. Transfer to a large pitcher (preferably glass) and chill until very cold. Before serving, adjust the seasonings with salt and vinegar. Serve in glasses, over ice if desired, or in a bowl; drizzled with a few drops of olive oil.

Lime & Blistered Peanut Coleslaw

While I'll never deny the merits of a mayonnaise-based coleslaw, there's something wonderfully summertime refreshing about the vinaigrette-based variant. I love how the sharp tang of acid juxtaposes with the earthy, cruciferous veggies; their stout shredded texture holding up beautifully for picnic season.

The first time I made this Lime & Blistered Peanut Coleslaw, I enjoyed the flavors but wasn't thrilled with the composition. The recipe emphasized the necessity of finely shredded matchstick cabbage, which I didn't have the patience for—as a result, the delicate lime, honey and olive oil dressing felt too flimsy for my thick cabbage stalks. This time, I blended the dressing ingredients with the cilantro and jalapeno, plus some garlic, which produced a thick, salsa verde-like consistency robust enough to to match my cruciferous trunks (and saved me ample dicing and de-stemming time).

If you have the time and energy to finely chop a head of cabbage and the dexterity to navigate a Mandoline to shred your carrots, I applaud you! If not, this recipe is primed for a Trader Joe's hack. I used a combination of their shredded cabbage and carrot mix and "Cruciferous Crunch", which added slivered kale, Brussel sprouts, and broccoli to the mix. The flavor explosion of local farmers market or tiny heirloom tomatoes can make a world of difference here, as do the blistered peanuts—don't be shy about toasting them until the edges burn black. They make a fabulous foil to the coleslaw's acidic coat.

I added shelled hemp seeds too—optional, but a great way to add some protein to the salad and a nutty, crunchy pop. (To elevate to a main, serve the coleslaw with Heidi's Cumin-spiked Tofu).

If you go the "hack" route, the salad can be assembled in just minutes—the only thing you need to chop are the tomatoes into halves. Even better is how long it will hold up. I enjoyed the coleslaw all week long for lunch, and it never turned soggy. Simple and agreeable: the temperament of a true summertime salad.

Lime & Blistered Peanut Coleslaw (adapted from 101 Cookbooks)
Serves 6 as a side

Ingredients:
18-20 oz shredded cabbage, carrots, Brussel sprouts, kale, and/or broccoli
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
1 cup unsalted raw peanuts
3 large or 4 small jalapeno peppers, seeds and stems removed
1/3c lime juice + 2 tsp grated rind
2 tsp honey
2 garlic cloves
1 bunch cilantro
3-4 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 tsp salt
3 Tbsp hemp seeds (optional)

Directions:
1. Blister the peanuts. In a skillet or 350F oven, roast the peanuts for 5 to 10 minutes, shaking the pan a few times along the way until golden and blistered.
2. Make the dressing. Blend the jalapeno, lime juice and zest, honey, garlic, cilantro, olive oil, and salt together in a food processor. Taste to adjust seasonings. (If too tart, add more honey or oil).
3. Assemble the salad. Combine the shredded vegetables, halved tomatoes, and dressing in a large bowl. Fold in the blistered peanuts and hemp seeds. Add more salt, if needed.

Buttermilk Farro Salad

If your first impression is that this recipe looks suspiciously similar to my Dilled, Crunchy Sweet-Corn Salad with Buttermilk Dressing, you are not incorrect. Yes, both recipes feature a starchy carb base, buttermilk dressing, and lots of dill. However. While the corn salad conjures a chilled summer soup— sweet, drinkable and milky—this Buttermilk Farro Salad is far meatier, almost like a creamy risotto. The buttermilk, too, takes on a different function. Rather than a dribbling dressing that pools at the bottom, the liquid is slick; coating the farro just barely, luxuriously, like melted cheese.

Any likeness to richness stops there. The farro is delicately peppered with slivered late summer vegetables, impossibly refreshing in their raw, slender form. Sometimes I forget that an unaccustomed texture has the power to make a vegetable feel like an entirely different ingredient. Zucchini often gets tiresome past its mid-summer zenith, but barely-there ribbons feel completely new. Fennel is frequently braised in pursuit of its caramelized potential, but here, the wispy mandolined strips are a total breath of fresh air, like a more flavorful celery.

If you are unfamiliar with chives, do seek them out if you can—they are the cherry on top of a salad bellowing summer, though scallions are a perfectly acceptable alternative. You can probably tell that this recipe is included in my "big batch salad" list from a mile away; indeed, I made a double serving for the week, mixing in arugula, chickpeas, and hard-boiled egg for a hefty lunch.

Aside from a trip to the farmers market/grocery, this salad is essentially a pantry dish. That goes for the buttermilk too: 1 tablespoon of lemon juice stirred into 1 cup regular milk makes a quick homemade batch. As we approach the part of summer where we are reminded of its mortality (shorter days, brisker morning temperatures), the widespread “did I make the most of this season??” panic sweeps in. Inevitably, this premature nostalgia is followed by a scurry of bucket-list picnics and beach visits, so when it’s time to menu-plan, remember this salad! Consider it August, in a Tupperware.

Buttermilk Farro Salad (from 101 Cookbooks)
Serves 8 as a side, 4 as a main

Ingredients:
2 medium cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp fine grain sea salt
1 cup buttermilk
¼ cup white wine vinegar
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup chopped dill
½ cup chopped chives (can substitute scallions)
1 tablespoon chopped thyme
7 small radishes, sliced paper thin
3 small zucchini, sliced paper thin
1 medium head of fennel, trimmed and sliced paper thin
4 cups cooked farro, cooled to room temp
chopped chives for garnish
Arugula, chickpeas, hardboiled eggs (optional, for serving)

Directions:
1. Combine the garlic and salt on a cutting board. Mash into a paste using the flat side of your knife. Place in a medium bowl or jar, then add the buttermilk and vinegar. Whisk together and let sit for 5 minutes or so. Gradually whisk in the olive oil, then the herbs.

2. In a large bowl gently toss the radishes, zucchini, and fennel with the farro grains. Add 1 cup of the dressing and toss again. Let sit for ten minutes, taste, and adjust with more dressing, if needed, and salt to taste. Serve sprinkled with chives.

Quick & Easy Pickles

Today, I introduce to you a cure for summer vegetable anxiety: quick and easy homemade pickles. Despite the fact that I consume more vegetables than anyone I know, I cannot keep up with all the veggies I’ve been buying at the farmers market. Peppers, squash, okra, fennel, zucchini, beets, tomato...so much is in season right now, and though I try to gather only what I'll eat for the week, I'm so tickled by all of the out-of-the-box heirloom varieties that I end up buying triple the amount I set out to. I'm sorry, but who can resist purple carrots, avocado zucchini, and yellow cucumbers!? Not this girl. 

Now, what is an overly-eager vegetable splurger to do in this situation? I marvel at the idea of making preserves— peeling open a jar of home-canned tomatoes in the dead of winter for a delicious flashback to summer—but in true New Yorker fashion, I have no patience and no storage space. If I'm going to pickle or preserve, it's gotta work at my speed and be ready to eat by the next day. Enter Quick & Easy Pickles.

Sensationally vinegary with just the right amount of sweet and salty, these pickles are a cinch to whip up, requiring 30 minutes of pickling time and lasting for at least 2 weeks. You can eat them with anything and everything: on top of sandwiches, mixed into salads, a kimchi substitute in a homemade rice or grain bowl. They are virtually giardiniera in the fast lane—that lovely mix of antipasto vegetables you see sometimes at Italian restaurants. Fittingly, giardiniera translates to "garden" in English; the method was traditionally used to preserve prolific homegrown vegetables.

So back to those nonconformist heirloom veggies—what a perfect place to showcase those vibrant purple, yellow and orange hues! I urge you to seek out the craziest-colored produce you can find for this sprightly relish. Purple cauliflower is definitely up for my next batch.

Quick & Easy Pickles (from Nutrition Action newsletter)

Ingredients:
Enough thinly sliced vegetables to fill 1 pint-sized Mason jar (16 oz), tightly packed (try onion, carrot, fennel, cucumber, cauliflower, pepper)
¼ cup white wine vinegar
1 tsp salt
1 Tbsp sugar
1 Tbsp pickling spices

Directions:
Bring vinegar, salt, sugar, pickling spices and ¾ cup water to boil. Pour over the vegetables to cover. Chill for at least half an hour before serving.

Fusilli with Pea Pesto

Peas, please! I have a strange obsession with peas. English peas, shelling peas, sugar snap peas, you name it—I find all peas as delightful as a chocolate and vanilla swirled soft-serve ice cream cone on a hot summer day. I keep them year round in the freezer, where they require frequent restocking—once I start on those tiny frozen sweet pops of flavor, I just can’t stop.

Once upon a time, peas were synonymous with institutionalized, terrible settings like hospitals and
nursing homes. Here, I think of the dulled, sickly hue of canned peas slopped unceremoniously onto a cafeteria tray: “Maude picked at her meatloaf, instant mashed potatoes, and peas with repugnance as her IV dripped in the background.” But peas—as my father says of Pittsburgh— are undergoing a renaissance. I’ve seen them smashed alongside avocado in swanky guacamoles, and taking center stage in all sorts of creative pestos. A long overdue recognition, as these pint-sized pod-dwellers have been enhancing my pastas, stir fries, salads and sauces for years. And what do you know—tis the season for local peas. Let us shell with abandon!

The following recipe is for Fusilli with Pea Pesto. I will say right now that neither hubby nor I are basil pesto enthusiasts, but we loved this recipe. While I find basil pesto a bit too grassy and harsh, this pea pesto was sweet, richly flavored and smooth, totally dulcet and the perfect mild, hot-summer-night dressing to a lazy pasta bowl. In fact, I first made this pesto on one of those unbearably humid summer evenings, and I didn’t even make the pesto from scratch—just picked up a container from Whole Foods (I love how they add pepitas) and blended some fresh peas right in. The pasta was a one-pot affair, I added halved cherry tomatoes and canned chickpeas to the boiling water just a few minutes before straining. I’m providing the cheat-recipe below, but Smitten Kitchen makes a lovely from-scratch version here.

The result was sheer perfection: a 15-minute dinner as satisfying as it is summerish. If you have access to a local farmers market, do take the time to go pick out your peas fresh—the sorting process is enjoyably tactile and almost cathartic (do you exercise to relieve stress? No, I pick through and shell peas) and the local pods are unequivocally worth it.

Fusilli with Pea Pesto
Serves 4

Ingredients
6 oz basil pesto (I like Whole Foods version with pepitas, or make from scratch)
1½ cups fresh peas (from approximately 1½ pounds peas in pods)
¾ cup grape tomatoes, halved
1 cup canned chickpeas, drained
12 oz fusilli pasta (I used Norwich Meadow Farm jerusalem artichoke fusilli, which is fantastic)
Parmesan cheese, for garnish

Directions
1. Cook the peas. Fill a large bowl with ice water. Bring a small saucepan of lightly salted water to a boil, add peas and cook for 2 minutes, then drain and add to the ice water. Drain again. 

2. In a large bowl, combine the prepared pesto and cooked peas. Use an immersion blender to blend uniformly. (Alternatively, use a blender). It should be very thick, as you'll add liquid later.

3. Cook pasta al dente according to package directions. 2-3 minutes before draining, add grape tomatoes and chickpeas to the pot. Reserve about 2 cups pasta cooking water, then drain and return pasta, tomatoes, and chickpeas to pot. Over moderate heat, toss contents with pesto and as much reserved pasta water as needed to smooth and distribute pesto. Adjust seasonings to taste. Serve immediately, topped with fresh Parmesan.

Summer Farro Salad with Cubed Mozzarella, Tomato & Fresh Herbs

Like your favorite college sweatshirt, this Summer Farro Salad with Cubed Mozzarella, Tomato & Fresh Herbs is comfy, trusty, and familiar—as if you've known it for years. Embark on the recipe and you'll be swooning at first bite, a budding courtship that will blossom quickly into a dependable old pal. This recipe is a shoo-in for your regular summer salad rotation, so you're sure to remain well acquainted.

Can a salad be described as easygoing? This one-pot farro bowl is a pleasurable cinch.  It's effortless to make, store, transport, and keep. The ancillary ingredients are common enough to appeal to any crowd—who can't resist briny olives, juicy tomatoes, and fresh parsley/basil in a slug of tangy vinegar and slick olive oil?—yet just different enough to incite intrigued pause. I know, you were expecting feta after hearing olives and tomatoes, but how refreshing are those soft, tender cubes of mozzarella instead? Did you notice that instead of depending on the dressing to brighten the earthy crunch of farro, the grain is delicately encased in it's own thick, caramelized broth, thanks to cooking along side fresh parsley, garlic and onion in stock-like fashion?

Easygoing yet intriguing, the definition of a winning crowd-pleaser. This salad screams "summer picnic" all over it, and it delivers exceptionally.

How familiar are you with farro? Let's switch gears to talk about this wholesome grain. As I recently learned from the Greenmarket Regional Grains Project, a Grow NYC-backed endeavor to encourage consumers to buy locally milled and grown grains & legumes, farro is not a single entity. Rather, it is the blanket term for a family of three grains: farro piccolo (einkorn), farro medio (emmer) and farro grande (spelt). Emmer, the kind most often found in the US, is available in two forms: whole, with a hardened texture similar to popcorn kernels, and softer pearled, resembling the look of barley. Whole farro takes longer to cook—you're looking at 60-75 minutes of simmering unless soaked in advance overnight. Pearled farro has had some of it's bran removed (the seed's outer skin) and thus cooks closer to 15-20 minutes. Does it matter which variety you buy? Not really. Losing some bran in the pearled variety does eliminate a bit of fiber, but the good stuff— "the disease-preventing, metabolism-boosting, blood-sugar-stabilizing, cholesterol-lowering antioxidants, fibers, vitamins, minerals, essential fatty acids, and the like", according to Serious Eats Guide to Whole Grains—is found in the germ, which maintains intact for both varietals.

Given that this recipe is a Northeast locavore's dream—tomatoes, red onion, zucchini, parsley and basil are all in season at the farmers markets—why not go local for your grains, too? "The new frontier in local food," says the Regional Grains Project. In a season where vegetable-speckled, oil and vinegar based salads reign supreme, the timing sure is right.

Summer Farro Salad with Cubed Mozzarella, Tomato & Herbs (from Food52)
Serves 8 to 12

Ingredients:

For the salad

2 cups uncooked farro 

1 medium red onion, cut in half 

1 clove garlic 

handful of fresh parsley plus 1 tablespoon finely chopped 

1/2 tsp salt, plus more if needed 

1 cup finely diced (about 1/4 "cubes) fresh mozzarella cheese 

2 tsp minced pitted kalamata olives 

1 pint grape tomatoes, cut into quarters 

1 zucchini, cut in quarters lengthwise and thinly sliced (optional)

1 Tbsp finely chopped fresh basil 

Freshly ground pepper, to taste 

For the dressing

Scant 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil (can use less, I used 1/8 cup)

1 tsp balsamic vinegar 

1 Tbsp red wine vinegar 

2 tsp honey 

Directions:

1. Add the farro, one onion half, garlic, handful of parsley and salt along with 2 3/4 cups water to a 2 quart pot. Bring to a boil, then cover, reduce to a simmer, and cook for 10 minutes*. Turn off burner and let sit, covered, for 5 more minutes. Discard the onion, garlic and large pieces of parsley. Spread out on a rimmed sheet pan and let cool completely (do not skip this step or the mozzarella will melt into the finished dish). 

2. Whisk together the olive oil, vinegars and honey to prepare the dressing. Chop the remaining onion half finely. Add onion, cooled farro, mozzarella, kalamata olives, tomatoes, zucchini, remaining tablespoon of parsley and basil to a deep bowl. Pour the dressing over the ingredients and stir well to combine, using a long wooden spoon or rubber spatula. Season with salt and pepper. The salad is ready to serve, but can also be made and stored in the fridge, covered, one day ahead.

*This is the cooking time for pearled farro. Whole farro will take anywhere from 40 to 75 minutes to cook. Monitor and taste frequently to determine when the grain is ready—it should be easy to bite yet slightly firm, like al dente pasta. 

Spicy Peanut Dressing

Don’t cook. Here’s why.

Last weekend I saw the first batch of local summer squash (shout out to New Jerz and your slightly warmer climate) oblong, squat, or slender in a rainbow of buttercup yellow and sage green; sugar snap peas, shelling peas, fava beans; tomatoes large and small. The bounty will continue to amass, accruing peppers, stone fruits, and cucumbers, begetting infinite possibilities in the kitchen. But for me, the time has never been riper to not cook.

By not cook, I mean not heat; rather, enjoy these fruits and vegetables in their raw form. Just yesterday I purchased my first local strawberries and was blown away by how juicy, sweet, and intensely flavorful the pint-sized locals compared to the genetically-altered Driscoll giants. We all know that less food miles equals a fresher foodstuff, rendering it unequivocally superior in taste as well. But in the colder months, when the only options are supermarket produce hailing from other continents, it can be easy to forget just how monumental the flavor gap is. I grew used to my Trader Joe’s sugar snap peas, until they once again became available to me locally. The difference is night and day.

What I ask is simple: take a moment to delight in the vim and vigor of local produce. Even if it’s just cutting a slice of zucchini before it goes into the pan for stir-fry, experience what that difference tastes like.

This Spicy Peanut Dressing is a versatile condiment to relish all vegetables in their uncooked glory. It can live as a summer crudité dipping sauce, a chopped leafy green salad dressing, or the flavor mainstay of cold sesame noodles/zucchini noodles. It is sweet and nutty, spicy and vinegary, and overall, utterly drinkable (spotted: husband consuming sauce by the spoonful out of the jar. I’m only guilty of petty misdemeanor plate-licking). On these 90+ degree days, where the thought of turning on a stovetop burner feels like it might be the final straw to literally melt you into a puddle, pull out this dressing. (It keeps for weeks in the fridge, tripling the recipe is highly recommended). Pair with any variety of cool, crisp vegetables. Rinse, repeat, all throughout summer. 

A few ideas for ingredient combinations (just add protein):

• Lacinato kale, mint, cucumber, pomegranate seeds
• Soba noodles, cabbage, carrot , mango, sesame seeds
• Rice wrappers, cucumber, jicama, bell pepper, scallions
• Lettuce cups, sweet potato, radish, cilantro 

Spicy Peanut Dressing (from Food52)
Makes 3/4 of a cup; dressing for 4

Ingredients:
3 tablespoons smooth natural peanut butter
3 tablespoons warm water
3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses or honey
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon fresh garlic, minced
2 teaspoons fresh ginger, peeled and minced
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 teaspoon dried red chili flakes

Directions:
Mix together all ingredients by hand or in a blender.

Dilled, Crunchy Sweet-Corn Salad with Buttermilk Dressing

Consider this recipe to be your formal acknowledgement of summer's nearing end. Yes, the heat and humidity remain as obscene as ever, forcing me to continue my two-shower-a-day regimen to maintain questionable hygiene, even so.  But as the signs of season's closing continue to creep in—brisk mornings, a rapidly receding dusk—I find myself, like clockwork, in an emotional rollercoaster, the same one year after year. There is the part of me looks forward to Fall: this abbreviated glimpse of sought-after gold and bronze and fire red, the one that makes NYC whole again. As rapidly as we escaped for beach and sun, we come scampering back, rejuvenated as we walk the streets, enveloped in a delicious light breeze that only a few weeks prior had been stagnant and stinky, filled with air conditioner drippings.  School starts, Jewish High Holidays commence...Fall is good. But Fall is so short, and it so quickly divulges into winter, where we will be once again swooning for—

—summer! The other half of me is hysterical at the prospect of leaving you, your carefree swagger and beautiful bounty. That's what I'm going to miss the most, I realize. Not the 9pm sunsets, the summer Fridays, the inherent calm. My copious seasonal produce is going to leave me, and for that, I must mourn.

But as for all types of mournings (even those as trivial as this), one most confront the grief head on, which is why I will acknowledge the end of this beautiful season with a feast of summation. I will send off summer with this Dilled, Crunchy Sweet-Corn Salad with Buttermilk Dressing, boasting an entire ingredient list that can be found at the farmers market, right now. It's the kind of dish that makes summer food so special: clean, light, and easy; pure goodness thanks to ingredients so fresh. It is a salad meant to be devoured; the satisfying crunch of corn, cucumber and pepper against a backdrop of milk and tang. Dill—the freshest tasting of all herbs, I would argue—is paired with ample parsley, and briny feta is the cherry on top. Your past three months are contained inside this salad.

Before buying buttermilk, see if you have the ingredients to make your own: 1 tablespoon of lemon juice stirred into 1 cup regular milk makes a two-second DIY version, complete with the requisite acidity.  This salad will keep for a week; the dressing does get a little runny but it didn't bother me at all, I was ready to drink it. (You can also just keep it separate). I also halved the olive oil, the recipe just needs a touch. After eating a whole batch for a week, I feel ready to say farewell to summer with bittersweet certainty. Catch ya next time!

Dilled, Crunchy Sweet-Corn Salad with Buttermilk Dressing (from Food52)

Serves 4

Ingredients:

For the salad:

1 clove shallot, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced

3 ears of fresh, uncooked corn*, the kernels scraped from the cobs with a sharp knife (about 2¾ c)

4 Persian or 8 kirby cucumbers, quartered lengthwise and sliced crosswise into ½ inch dice

1 long red sweet pepper, seeded, ribs removed and diced

1 small handfull fresh dill (about 4 smallish sprigs), minced

¼ c minced fresh parsley

Crumbled Feta cheese, as a garnish

For the dressing:

¼ c buttermilk

2/3 c plain European style thin yogurt, stirred (Greek is OK too)

1 Tbsp white wine vinegar

3 Tbsp minced Vidalia or other sweet onion

1 small clove garlic, minced and mashed with a pinch of salt

2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.

*You can also cook the corn if you prefer.

Directions:

1. Salt the shallot slices in ½ tsp salt and allow to sit about 20 minutes to draw out any harshness (optional, I did not do this). Rinse well with water and pat dry with a paper towel.

2.  In a large bowl toss the corn kernels lightly to separate them, add the shallot and the remaining salad ingredients and toss again to combine. In a smaller bowl combine the buttermilk, vinegar, onion, yogurt, and garlic and whisk to combine. Add the oil in a slow stream, whisking, until amalgamated.

3.  Season with freshly ground pepper and salt to taste. Serve the salad slightly chilled, garnished with the feta cheese. Pass the dressing separately.

Grilled Halibut Tacos with Watermelon Salsa

When I first saw the recipe photos for Grilled Halibut Tacos with Watermelon Salsa, I was overcome with emotion—of raging jealousy. What do we have here...the Michelangelo of tacos? Art that uses food as a medium, eh? How many hours did this blogger spent meticulously food styling the dish, from the garnish of tiny edible flowers (really) to the perfectly crisped, U-shaped tortilla edges (never been able to accomplish that without a finger in the photo) to the rustic, charred-chic (if that could be a thing) backdrop. Uh uh, I decided as I stared, mesmerized, at the salsa's beautiful warm coral, freesia and cantaloupe hues. These tacos are not real. They are meant to be stared at and ruminated over, a Rembrant of aesthetic pleasure and thought.  A work of such caliber of beauty cannot also bring pleasure to the tongue. Then I read the ingredients, and thought: ok, these actually look like they would taste really good.

Still grumbling, I set out to make them, waiting for my watermelon to dissolve from flawless cubes into pulpy mush, dampening my not-so-perfectly charred tortillas into flaccid rounds. As I sliced and diced, preoccupied with figuring out how I would explain why my tacos bore so little resemblance to the ravishing originals, I hardly had time to notice the end result. My tacos were beautiful! They were Rembrant tacos, Michelangelo tacos, a visual rainbow of color—and they were tasty AF.

The watermelon was the perfect conduit to temper the bite of the chili, onion, cilantro and chives, and its inherent sweetness soaked up the tangy lime and salt effortlessly. The fish, mild but firm, ensured texture variety within each corn tortilla. Cilantro, radishes, and avocado line the serving platter not only for aesthetics—it also allows guests to pick and choose their garnishes as they please.

As quickly as it had come upon me, my jealousy washed away—jealousy is a wasted emotion, after all. I ate the tacos on my roof, watching the sunset fade into the Hudson, with an easy salad of greens, corn, avocado, and cucumber tossed in nothing more than a little lemon juice and olive oil. As dusk settled and the sun was no more than a sliver of pink behind the clouds, I took a moment to reflect on the intense satisfaction of both my eyes and appetite. Once more, I changed my tune: food doesn't have to be beautiful, but when it pleases more than one of the senses, it feels almost indulgent; a rare, secret treat.  If only I had known earlier that the secret to happiness lies in watermelon tacos!

I want to take a second to talk about feedfeed, the site where this recipe hails from. Simply put, feedfeed is a network that connects people who love to cook. The content on their site, organized into various "feeds"such as recipes, community, and videos, is designed to fuel conversation and inspiration amongst likeminded foodies from around the globe. The founders are wholehearted supporters of local and sustainable eating. My favorite part? Their commitment to GrowNYC: feedfeed has a special feed just for meals cooked with NYC greenmarket ingredients.

Grilled Halibut Tacos with Watermelon Salsa (from Heather Christo)

Serves 3-4

Ingredients:

Tacos

1 pound halibut (any white, firm, not-too-fishy fish will do)

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 lime, zest and juice

1 serrano/jalapeno chili (halve or omit if you are sensitive to heat)

kosher salt

Watermelon Salsa

2 cups seedless watermelon, diced

1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved

¼ white onion, small diced

1 serrano/ jalapeno chili, finely diced

½ cup chopped cilantro

2 tablespoons chives (optional)

juice of 1 lime

kosher salt

9 to 12 corn tortillas, or 3 per person (Trader Joe's 100% corn tortillas are my favorite)

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

Garnishes

Avocado slices, radish slices, cilantro sprigs, queso fresco/crumbed feta cheese

Directions:

1. Place the fish in a dish. In a small bowl, combine the oil, lime zest and juice and then grate the chili into the bowl. Mix well and then spoon over the fish. Sprinkle generously with kosher salt and let sit in the refrigerator for about 20 minutes.
2. While the fish is marinating, make the watermelon salsa. In a medium bowl, combine the watermelon, cherry tomatoes, onion, chili, and fresh cilantro and chives. Squeeze the lime over the salsa and gently toss. Season to taste with kosher salt.
3. Preheat the grill to medium heat. Place the fish on a piece of foil and place onto the BBQ. Cook 3 -5 minutes on each side, depending on the thickness of the fish. You want it to be just cooked through. When you are done set the fish aside and turn the grill to low heat. (Alternatively, you can cook fish on a stove top for the same amount of time, or in the oven at 400 degrees F for 15 minutes).
4. Let the fish rest for a minute while you spread the vegetable oil over the tortillas evenly and grill each one briefly over low heat until it is barely charred at the edges and hot, soft and pliable. (Or, use my foolproof stovetop tortilla-warming method). 
5. Season the fish with a little extra kosher salt. Divide the fish between the tortillas and top each generously with the watermelon salsa and garnishes of your choice. 

Charlie Bird’s Farro Salad

Is there anything more glorious than preparing a meal on a summer evening at a beach house? I feel like I could write a Haiku about this.  Sand running through your fingers, backdrop of crashing waves as you discuss tonight’s dinner menu with companions. Noticing your salty, sun-kissed skin on the way to the farm stand for vegetables. On to the fishmonger for catch of the day—it will be grilled, of course.  Back at the house, on the deck. Glass of rose in hand. Running to the garden barefoot for fresh basil and mint.  I should shower! You say. Nobody showers. Somebody makes guacamole. Opens another bottle of wine. Dinner served long after the sun disappears in a haze of brilliant hues. The air has a chill, grab a sweatshirt. Stare up at the stars. The languid day is infinite. You feel the happiest, and most content, you ever feel. This is summer.

 

I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing this type of beach house living the past two weekends on the East End of Long Island— where, to my delight, I witnessed the comestible shift the local farming community has made on the region. Of course, traditional New England summer fare like lobster, mayonnaise, buttery potato buns, coleslaw, and corn remained prolific.  But seeping through the culinary seams was produce—fresh, abundant produce!—thanks to a strong agriculture community and a more health-conscious, sustainable-minded population.

 

Propelled by its maritime climate, the 400-year-old East End agricultural industry sees revenues of over 1 billion dollars a year, and the signature “Grown on Long Island” label emanates reverence and pride. The value on produce is omnipresent. Farm stands and cultivated fields dot the roads.  The source of a vegetable accoutrement mentioned proudly on a restaurant menu. Caravan, a take-out shop in Amagansett, offering a weekly list of prepared meals driven by what’s available at the surrounding farms.

 

As a self-proclaimed vegivore (who, during the latter weekend, happened to also be accompanied by a vegetarian), I was thrilled at the emphasis on local produce, fresh salads, and whole grains. But as a member of our eating society, I was simply proud. Is the farm-to-table mindset finally leaving an indelible mark on our culture? Of course, we gravitate towards fresh produce in the summer, because it is prolific and the season is short. But are we finally ready to seize the trend year round? Give picking through wintered greens the same enthusiasm we give to finding dark cherries or powering through a watermelon? I dare to hope.

 

Below is a recipe for Charlie Bird’s Farro Salad, a sensational summer dish filled with seasonal delights. From the farm, tomatoes, radishes, and arugula. From the garden, fresh parsley, basil, mint. From the pantry, a splendid and slick vinegary, lemony, olive oil dressing.  The farro is sweetly nuanced with apple cider and bay leaves; toasted pistachios and shaved Parmesan add a nutty, salty finish.  The salad energetically welcomes a topping of grilled scallops or shrimp, but is wholly satisfactory on its own, too.  In true dietician’s daughter-fashion, I halved the olive oil and doubled the greens, adding baby kale along with arugula and extra tomatoes and radishes. I imagine fresh blueberries, cherries, or diced peaches would work wonderfully in the salad too….and it goes really nicely with a side of corn on the cob. Can I say it again? This is summer. Cherish it while it’s here.  

Charlie Bird’s Farro Salad (adapted from the New York Times)

 Serves 6 dainty eaters, 4 hungry ones

Ingredients:

1 cup farro

1 cup apple cider

1 tsp kosher salt, more as needed

2 bay leaves

3-4 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil

2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice (slivered rind optional)

½ cup Parmesan cheese, shaved with a vegetable peeler

½ cup chopped toasted pistachio nuts

4 cups arugula leaves (baby kale and spinach work too)

1 cup parsley or basil leaves, torn

1 cup mint leaves

1 ½ cup halved cherry or grape tomatoes

¾ cup thinly sliced radish

Maldon or other flaky sea salt, for Finishing

Directions:

1. In a medium saucepan, bring farro, apple cider, salt, bay leaves and 2 cups water to a simmer. Simmer until farro is tender and liquid evaporates, about 30 minutes. If all the liquid evaporates before the farro is done, add a little more water. Let farro cool, then discard bay leaves.

2. In a salad bowl, whisk together olive oil, lemon juice and a pinch of salt. Add farro, cheese and pistachio nuts and mix well. This salad base will keep for up to 4 hours at room temperature or overnight in the refrigerator (bring to room temperature before serving). Just before serving, fold in arugula, herbs, tomatoes, radish and flaky salt to taste.