Caramelized Garlic Frittata

Over years of hosting friends for Saturday lunch, frittata has become a staple of my lunch table. It's easy to prepare; it makes use of whatever of-the-moment ingredients you have in the fridge or on the counter; best of all, if you're preparing it in the Italian style, it's served at room temperature.

Unlike Tortilla Española, which stacks up nice and high, thanks to a hefty load of sliced potatoes inside - frittata is supposed to be thin. I've made it with tomatoes and feta; with kale, spinach, or other greens; with squash blossoms and/or zucchini; or with whatever else I have on hand. We're talking eggs, seasoning, and vegetables. It's pretty hard to screw up.

But a few weeks back, my in-laws were in town, so I went in search of something to make the frittata extra special. That's when I stumbled (literally - I almost knocked the whole thing over while reaching absentmindedly for flour) across a bowl of caramelized garlic, syrupy and soft and deeply browned, which - of course, you already know this - were the perfect addition to my frittata.

Backing up: I'd caramelized garlic to make Yotam Ottolenghi's caramelized garlic quiche. (I'm sorry, I've been hitting you over the head with Ottolenghi recipes - are you sick of him yet? Are you sick of me obsessing about him yet? Don't be; buy his book and you'll see why I can't stop.) But then I got sidetracked with mini lentil galettes and beet salad with walnut sauce and a really good blueberry tart, and that garlic quiche? It never happened. Kismet, I tell you.

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Can I just spend a couple minutes telling you about this garlic? Because it is amazing. It's the kind of thing you make and then want to use in everything, on everything. Shmeared into hot sourdough bread, tucked around a block of feta and baked until sizzling, or - yes - sneaked into your mouth by the spoonful as you pretend to use it for an actual dish. It's fragrant with thyme, sweet from the sugar and balsamic vinegar. And it's as tender as if it had been braised. On paper, it sounds like the kind of special ingredient that makes everything better. In reality, it does just that.

caramelized garlic frittata ingredients

To echo the garlic's sweetness and give the frittata texture, I added some fresh corn. And because I really can't help myself, I added a few generous spoonfuls of fresh chevre. I wanted to add garlic scapes, but I couldn't get any, so I added a scallion instead. I may have also stirred in some basil. In retrospect, none of this was necessary. Corn, goat cheese, and garlic are all this frittata needs. The simpler, the better.

This frittata will take us right from summer into fall. When corn is gone, I'll make it with mushrooms. Or maybe I'll really make like an Italian and stick to eggs and that perfect, sweet garlic. Sounds like simple perfection to me.

Caramelized Garlic Frittata

1 head of garlic, separated and peeled 1 tablespoon olive oil 2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar 3/4 tablespoons sugar 2 teaspoons chopped thyme

8 eggs salt and pepper 5 ounces soft, creamy goat cheese Corn from 2 ears, uncooked zest of one lemon 1 tablespoon butter 1 tablespoon olive oil

Put the garlic cloves in a small pan and cover with half a cup of water. Bring to a simmer and blanch the garlic for 3 minutes, then drain well and dry the pan.

Return garlic cloves to the pan and add the olive oil.

Fry the garlic on high heat for 2 minutes, shaking the pan to fry each side of the cloves.  Add the balsamic vinegar and 1 cup of water and bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Raise the heat to medium. Add the sugar, thyme, and a pinch of salt and continue simmering for 10 minutes, or until most of the liquid has evaporated and the garlic is covered in a dark caramel syrup. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the eggs with salt and pepper to taste until well combined. Fold in the lemon zest, corn, and bits of goat cheese.

Set a large saute pan over medium heat and add the butter and olive oil. When butter has fully melted, swirl the pan to coat the sides. Pour egg mixture into the pan, swirl to distribute evenly, and sprinkle the garlic cloves over the surface of the frittata. They should sink into the egg mixture almost immediately.

Transfer the pan to the oven and bake until frittata is set, about 8 minutes. Let cool for 10 minutes before trying to remove the frittata from the pan; the hotter it is, the more easily it sticks.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Crostini with Cherries, Fennel, and Pistachios

These are the precious few weeks when everything is in abundance. Normal people get really excited about this: they come home loaded with little yellow tomatoes, bright green beans, beautiful ears of bi-color corn, and - for the few days that they're available - blackberries. Me? I get stressed. What if I can't get enough tomatoes in jars to last me through the winter? What if my jam doesn't seal properly? And so on.

Putting up produce has become a summer ritual, and one of which I'm quite proud. I love serving friends pasta with my homemade sauce. When I put out a plate of pickles, I'm happy that they're mostly my own creations. And I love how peppers, cherries, and rhubarb from the summer markets find their way into everything from sriracha to vinegar to Manhattans, all in my kitchen. But getting this done adds a certain pressure to summer market trips, and once in a while, I'd like to just enjoy the market with no agenda at all.

So sometimes, when I feel the stress coming on, I toss out the agenda entirely. I head to the market in search of a few things that would make a great dinner tonight. Just tonight.

A couple weeks ago, I purchased what must be the 15th quart of cherries I've eaten this summer. Jam had been made, and more jam could wait for other days. I brought these plump, sweet cherries into the kitchen, cleaned them off, piled them onto a lovely crostini, and ate them right then and there. Farm to table in under 24 hours.

I found the recipe while tooling around the DCist website. I had no idea the DCist published recipes, but after this success, I'll be checking back more often. Cherries and pistachios are a classic combination, and while typically I'm loyal to sour cherries for this pairing, the goat cheese on these crostini offset the sweet cherries perfectly. The syrupy sweet cherries - almost a savory jam, if that's a thing - will dribble down your chin as you eat. This will not be a clean supper. But isn't that what summer is all about?

Crostini with Cherries, Fennel, and PistachiosAdapted from DCist

1 fennel bulb 3 tablespoons butter or olive oil (I like butter. Shock.) 1 cup sweet or tart cherries, pitted Cardamom seeds from 2 pods or a pinch of ground cardamom 1 tablespoon red wine or balsamic vinegar 1 tablespoon sugar 8 slices baguette, toasted in a 300-degree oven for 5-7 minutes until golden 4 oz. fresh chevre or other mild, spreadable goat cheese ¼ cup pistachios, shelled and roughly chopped Sea salt

Chop the bottoms, stems and fronds off the fennel bulbs and remove any bruised or discolored portions of the outer layers. Chop each bulb in half, then slice lengthwise into thin slices. Meanwhile, heat butter or olive oil in a large pan. Add fennel, a pinch of salt, and 1/4 cup water to the pan and cook covered over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, until fennel is very soft and golden brown, about 30 minutes. Remove cover in the last 10 minutes of cooking to ensure fennel gets browned.

Heat the pitted cherries, sugar, balsamic vinegar, cardamom, and 2 tablespoons of water in a pan over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until sugar is dissolved and cherries are softened, about 5 to 10 minutes. Set aside to cool.

Spread a thick layer of cheese onto each slice of toasted bread. Layer some of the caramelized fennel on top, then several cherries. (If you're feeling generous, drizzle some of that cherry syrup overtop.) Top the crostini with chopped pistachios and sea salt. Serve immediately.

Summer Squash Quesadillas

Summer squash season is in full swing. As anyone with enough sunlight to grow the stuff will tell you, it grows like a weed. One plant is more than enough to feed two people for the whole summer. Folks with more zucs than they can eat often tell these not-quite-sad stories about struggling to use up their summer squash quickly enough. It's hard to feel bad for them when one little basket of zucchini costs $4 at the market, but I count my blessings - among them, a beautiful herb garden that's got enough chives for omelets all summer long, and three different kinds of mint, all growing at record pace.

Last week at the market, I bought a basket of baby summer squash with the blossoms still attached. Generally, I'd snip off the blossoms, coat them in batter, and fry'em up, but I'd gone to boot camp - people, this boot camp is serious - and I was feeling virtuous. So instead, I chopped them, tossed them with some mexican cheese and slices of the zucchini, and stuffed them into quesadillas.

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The recipe is simple, and open to endless riffs and interpretations. We're talking two flour tortillas, whatever fillings you want, and heat. That's it. I've added mushrooms, fresh corn, roasted poblano peppers, cherry tomatoes, you name it.

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As I write this, I'm in Austin for work. I'm quite sure the city famous for its migas would frown upon my very yuppified version of a quesadilla, but if I'm going to eat what essentially amounts to two pieces of bread and a bunch of cheese for dinner, I'd like to supplement it with some green. So there you have it.

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I was serious about the countless riffs. I've eliminated the mexican cheese entirely, in favor of fresh chevre. It's a totally different thing, but good in its own right. Another option - especially if you're eating this for breakfast, which I would heartily encourage - is to fry an egg into your quesadilla. Here's how it works: scramble an egg. when the pan is hot, pour the egg in, let it spread, and promptly place a flour tortilla over the egg, covering its surface entirely. Pile your toppings onto the tortilla, and depending on how hungry you are, either leave it open-face or put another tortilla overtop. Eggy deliciousness. Or, if you want the eggs inside the quesadilla, scramble them separately and pile them on before adding the second tortilla.

I told you, lots of riffs. I'll stop now - but you shouldn't. These are meant to be a vehicle for whatever is in your fridge. Go crazy.

Summer Squash Quesadillasserves 2, easily doubled

4 flour tortillas 2 small or 1 large summer squash, sliced into coins 1 tablespoon butter or oil a handful of squash blossoms, roughly chopped (if you don't have these, simply add some extra squash) 2 scallions, sliced 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika 1/2 cup shredded Mexican or pepperjack cheese (or substitute fresh chevre)

salsa or salsa verde, for serving

Set an 8-inch pan over medium heat and add butter or oil. When butter has melted or oil starts to shimmer, add summer squash in a single layer. Add smoked paprika and cook squash coins until lightly browned on one side. Flip or turn coins, add scallions, and cook about 2 more minutes, until the other side is brown. Transfer squash to a plate and set aside.

Put one tortilla down in the pan (no need to add more fat - they shouldn't stick). Add your toppings - first the cheese, then the still-warm squash - and top with a second tortilla. Cook about 3 minutes, until the bottom tortillas is well-browned. Press down on the top tortilla to make sure everything is sticking together, then flip the whole thing so the top tortilla is now on the bottom. Cook 3 more minutes, then transfer to a plate, cut into quarters, and repeat to make the second quesadilla.

Serve with salsa or salsa verde.

A Pair of Gorgeous Yogurt Soups

A couple weekends ago, the near-constant downpour we've had in DC subsided.  The break was only temporary, but as the proud owner of a new herb garden, I'm telling myself it's good for the plants. With things breezy and clear for a couple days in a row, we decided to have some of our most favorite people over for Saturday lunch on the deck. I'd planned a low-maintenance menu of dishes I could prep in advance, then pull together relatively quickly when we got home from synagogue on Saturday. Macaroni salad with ramp pesto and pre-blanched asparagus. Chilled baked salmon (which I'll be telling you about soon, because it was delicious). And, of course, cold soup.

I'm quite fond of cold soup as a concept. You make it, pour it into a jar, and then you wait. Wait until you need a weekday lunch; wait till friends come over and you want to serve them a little something; wait until, I dunno, you're hungry. You pretty much can't go wrong with a cup of cold, smooth soup on a warm day.

If we're talking about soups with dairy in them, and if we're being particular, I prefer yogurt- and buttermilk-based soups to those finished with cream. I love how sweet pea soup become tangy and bright when you blend in some yogurt just before serving. And I love the bewitching flavor of this white gazpacho, which gets its tang from buttermilk. That weekend, I put yogurt to work in a serious way, whipping up two cold soups to serve at lunch. One was a pureed beet-yogurt soup, with dill, mint, and a pinch of cumin. The other was a curried yellow squash soup, also blended smooth.

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cold yogurt soups5

I'd planned to give folks a choice of either soup, but when I set them next to each other on the counter, the color contrast was so striking that I decided to serve them side by side in the same bowl. As you can see, the gemlike fuchsia  beet looked just gorgeous next to the bright mustardy yellow squash soup. Conveniently, their flavors also complement each other. The beet soup is a bit sweet and very herbal, while the squash soup is deeper and slightly saltier. They're a perfect pair.

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Make one, make both. Store them in jars in the fridge until hunger strikes. I've found that they keep at least a week with no problem, maybe more. If you're feeling fancy, top the bowls with a cut of fresh chives or even a dollop of - yep - yogurt.

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Hope everyone has a wonderful long weekend. I'll see you back here next week.

Cold Herbed Beet-Yogurt SoupAdapted from Saveur Serves 2-4

1 lb. beets 1 1/4 cup plain yogurt 2 tablespoons fresh dill 2 tablespoons fresh mint 1 teaspoon ground cumin (freshly ground is best) 1/4 cup. lemon juice 1/2 tsp. salt, more to taste

Cook beets unpeeled, wrapped in foil, for 50-75 minutes in a 350-degree oven until a knife pierces easily through the flesh. Cool completely, then remove their skins. I find it's easiest to do this either under running water or - more environmentally friendly - submerged in a large bowl of cold water. A bit of rubbing, and their skins should slip off. Some may take more elbow grease than others; if the skin really insists on staying put, you can always use a peeler.

Cut beets into chunks, and transfer to a blender. Add remaining ingredients, and puree until completely smooth. Transfer to a jar and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Cold Curried Summer Squash SoupAdapted from Saveur Serves 2-4

2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 white onion, diced 1 teaspoon curry powder 1 teaspoon ground cumin (fresh is best) 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon turmeric 1/4 teaspoon cayenne 2 medium yellow summer squash, cut into 1-inch cubes (no need to peel them) 1/2 cup plain yogurt (either Greek or regular) 2 tablespoons Thai basil leaves

Put the butter in a large pot and set over medium heat. When butter has melted, add onion, curry, cumin, salt, tumeric, and cayenne, and cook until onions have just begun to soften and spices are fragrant, about 5 minutes. Stir in squash and cook an additional 5 minutes, until squash has softened. Add 1 cup water, reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and let simmer until squash is fully soft, about 10 minutes. Let cool completely.

Add squash mixture, yogurt, and basil leaves to a blender and puree until completely smooth. Transfer to a jar and refrigerate until ready to serve.

If planning to serve both soups together, simply hold 1 jar in each hand, and pour into the bowl simultaneously. The soups should fill the bowl at the same time, forming neat semicircles in the bowl with a clean equator. If not, no stress. You might even take a knife and make circular motions in the bowl to give the soups a spiraled, swirled effect.