Zucchini with Basil, Pine Nuts, and Croutons

Well, London may have the edge when it comes to strawberries, but DC is just bursting with amazing fruits and vegetables this time of year. And I'm going to go out on a limb and say that eating that summer produce is way, way more fun when your A/C works. Because since May, ours hasn't. And now it does. And cold air, it is wonderful. (In other news: if you've come over to our house in the last couple months and been inexplicably hot, sorry about that.)

Now that we're no longer hot from the moment we wake up in the morning, I can bear a trip down to the Sunday market. This past Sunday, I picked up some bright red, plump sour cherries, two pounds of rhubarb (for recipes I'll be telling you about soon), and some lovely baby zucchini.

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Baby zucchini is so, so pretty, no? All those different shapes and sizes? The little skinny sticks and the bigger, round patty pans? How can you not love them?

And yet, as is the case every year, I bring home a basket of those zucchini, and they sit. In the fridge. For days. Because people, I don't ever know what to do with them. They don't taste different than big zucchini, they just look different. So I feel like I have to leave them whole to preserve their cuteness. Otherwise, why not just buy the regular ones?

A couple years ago, I got hooked on this recipe for zucchini and snap peas dressed very simply with sesame oil. But not all baby zucchini can be left whole. At some point, you gotta cut the things up. Fortunately for me (and you), I've come up with a dish of zucchini sliced small enough that it can be eaten in a civilized fashion without your guests totally missing the fact that you sprang for the little guys.

The dish is inspired by something far more fussy from the legendary Dan Barber, a dish made with, yes, zucchini bread croutons. If you happen to have leftover zucchini bread lying around, this is a great way to put it to use. For the rest of us, say it with me now: summer is unfussy. Then go laugh at the fact that Oprah says this recipe takes 10 minutes. Really? Ba-ha.

Where were we? Yes. You're slicing baby zucs, getting 'em nice and browned, and tossing them with some basil oil, some toasted pine nuts, and some croutons. Simple? Simple.

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If you don't feel like making croutons, simply toast a couple pieces of bread, smear their toasted tops with some ricotta or goat cheese, and pile the zucchini on top. You can also top this with shards of a harder cheese, like parmesan or pecorino. Even a harder goat cheese would work well.

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While we're on the topic of do-what-you-want, if you -- like my beloved -- hate pine nuts (I know, how could she??), swap in almonds, hazelnuts, or no nuts whatsoever. If you don't love basil (again with D...crazy), try dill or mint. And if you don't feel like buying the baby zucs, big ones work just fine. I'm on a mission to make summer recipes flexible and un-fus-sy. I will prevail. And then we'll all not fuss one bit, and eat delicious summer food, and be very happy.

Zucchini with Basil, Pine Nuts, and Croutons Inspired by a recipe from Dan Barber serves 2-3 as a side dish or appetizer

1 pound small zucchini (about 5), trimmed and cut on the bias into 1" slices 4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, separated 1/2 teaspoon flaky salt 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper juice of half a lemon 1/4 cup basil chiffonade 1/4 cup pine nuts 1 cup torn croutons (I like sourdough, but any bread will work) 7 or 8 big shards of a salty, hard cheese like parmesan or pecorino (optional)  

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and spread pine nuts onto a baking sheet in a single layer. Toast pine nuts until evenly golden, about 7 minutes. Set aside.

Add 2 tablespoons olive oil to a large heavy pan (I like cast iron) and set it over medium heat. When oil shimmers, add zucchini slices in a single layer. Season with salt and pepper, then let cook undisturbed for 3-5  minutes, until undersides are shiny and golden-brown. Patience is the virtue here; if you move the zucchini around too much, it will steam and not brown properly.

Flip browned slices onto their second side and cook for 3-5 minutes more. Meanwhile, transfer chiffonade basil (or other herb) to a small mixing bowl, and as the zucchini slices finish cooking, add them to the bowl and stir to wilt the basil. Add any oil that remains in the pan into the bowl, to help the basil wilt and emit its flavor.

Add the remaining olive oil to the same pan, heat on medium, and when it shimmers, add the croutons. Season with salt and pepper, and again, leave undisturbed for about 3 minutes until undersides are golden. Flip to get as many sides of each crouton as possible crisped and slicked with the oil. When croutons are golden and toasty, Remove to a plate.

To serve, arrange zucchini and basil, pine nuts, croutons, and cheese (if using) on a flat platter. Squeeze the lemon overtop and serve warm or at room temperature.

Really Good Raw Granola Bars

One of my oldest and dearest friends, Dellie, is now very, very pregnant. Back when she was just very pregnant, she and I spent a day cooking up a storm, filling a freezer with healthy, delicious meals in anticipation of a now not-so-little peanut that may or may not occupy most of her waking hours.

By now you know that I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of cook. I shop without a clear agenda, and I frequently figure out what's for dinner by poking my head in the fridge when I get home from work and seeing what looks best. Not so with Dellie; she is the planner's planner. And in advance of our big cooking day, she had made a master spreadsheet listing every recipe we had chosen and the quantities of every ingredient they called for. She had visited three grocery stores to procure the items we needed. She'd even prepped a few key elements of dishes in advance, so we could hit the ground running as soon as I arrived. That woman, I tell you: she is a force.

For those of you who are curious as to what we made, I'm sharing the list here. I think it's a fantastic starter list for folks looking to stockpile meals before the birth of a child or another big event. We picked things that freeze and reheat well, things that won't be too fussy to pop in the oven at the end of a busy day.

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We certainly weren't the first to fill up the freezer; Merrill Stubbs from Food 52 did the same thing before she had her beautiful daughter, Clara. She cooked a mix of one-pot meals and freezable components (like taco filling) that could be assembled with relative ease later on. We stuck mostly with the former, to make things as stress-free as possible.

Here's our master list:

• Chicken Tikka Masala (Food 52)
• Knishes with lentil-lamb-raisin filling instead of potatoes (Smitten Kitchen)
• Pulled jerk chicken (NDP)
• Tuxedo chili from The Runaway Spoon, using turkey and adding some kale (Food 52)
• Baked ziti with bison-tomato sauce (mostly riffed)
• Quinoa salad with mirepoix, ground turkey, kale, and tomatoes (again, riffed)

And in case you were curious about our space-estimating skills, we filled the freezer precisely to its capacity:

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I left Dellie and Jeremy's house smelling intensely of meat (just ask the folks who picked me up - sorry guys!), but knowing that D and J had at least a month's worth of meals, ready to go.

Since no meal is complete without at least a little something sweet - and since parenthood means many late nights - we also made two trays of these granola bars to stow away.

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Yes, these granola bars are raw -- in the sense that you don't bake the bars - not in the sense that nothing has been heated. You actually toast most of the ingredients before mixing them, to amp up their flavor. Raw or cooked, they're the best granola bars I've ever made (and I've made my fair share).

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Dell and I agreed that these granola bars were lighter and crunchier than others we'd made; puffed rice is the key. They also hold up to travel and time much better than my beloved raspberry bars or my other favorite granola bars. After licking the bowl at Dellie's, I got home and promptly made a pan for us. When my heavy travel kicked in, I packed up about 10 bars into a zip-top bag and tossed them into the bottom of my purse, where -- despite lots of banging around -- they stayed intact and delicious for two full weeks. I can't think of a better travel snack.

Really Good Raw Granola Bars Adapted slightly from Sara's Granola Bars on Food52

I took out the sunflower seeds, which I don't really enjoy, and added more of everything else. I also swapped cranberries out for dried cherries, because dried cherries are just better. Other than that, it's all the same. It's all really good. -R

1 1/2 cups old fashioned rolled oats 1 1/3 cups raw sliced almonds 1 1/3 cups raw pumpkin seeds 3 1/3 cups brown rice crispies (you can substitute regular rice crispies or puffed rice) 1 cup dried apricots, sliced thinly 1 cup dried cherries 1 cup almond butter 1 cup honey 1 tablespoon sea salt 2 teaspoons cinnamon

Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Toast the oats, almonds, and pumpkin seeds. It's fine to put them all on the same pan, but make sure you separate them on the pan, so that when one is done, you can remove it and leave the others to continue toasting. The pumpkin seeds took about 7 minutes, the oats and almonds about 10 (though almonds will depend on how thinly they're sliced).

When all the items are sufficiently toasted, toss them with the brown rice crispies, apricots, and cherries in a large bowl.

In a small saucepan, heat the almond butter and honey just to get melty, not cooked. (This is your glue and if it boils or even comes close, it gets hard and impossible to stir once it cools.) Stir in the salt and cinnamon, then pour over the granola mixture and stir. You want to get everything mixed together and sticky without crushing the crispies.

Turn the mixture into a 9x13 baking dish lined with parchment and press the mixture evenly and firmly, trying not crush the crispies too much. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for several hours. Cut into 2-inch squares before serving.

Cucumber-Gin Slushies

Here's one good thing about living in DC: this time of year. This time of year is usually a month or so long, but 2013 has decided to be obnoxious and stubborn about sending winter on its way, and so we find ourselves in late May -- it's almost June -- occasionally wearing scarves in office buildings that clearly didn't get the memo and insist on blasting the A/C to the max. But at last, the cold has passed. It's now that special time in DC where there's warm sun and cool breeze at the same time. Not one to let this fleeting time pass me by, I've been taking some long walks. A couple weeks ago,D and I strolled all the way from our corner of northwest all the way to Eastern Market for dinner. No better way to prep for a big night of pasta-eating and wine-drinking.

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DC also has some affordable (coughnot) housing with outdoor seating, and we're lucky enough to have a deck. Now is the season to brush off that patio furniture and settle in with a drink outside. Fortunately, the long weekend provided ample opportunity to bask in the sun and pretend to be sophisticated with some shmancy cocktails.

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But you know what DC does not have, like at all? Affordable alcohol. My friend Josh (he of Mutabbaq-making fame) alerted me to the fact that just a hop-skip north, in MoCo, my beloved Bulleit and Hendricks, and plenty of other stuff could be procured at a fraction of the price the robbers in DC charge. So this weekend, I put on my driving shoes and headed to liquor mecca. (Do you think prim and proper Montgomery County would like this nickname? Methinks not.) And there, I purchased what can only be called a full bar worth of product: two kinds of gin, a Haitian rum that Josh recommended, two vermouths, a vodka, and I probably could keep going but I will stop, to avoid total embarrassment. But people, it was like Christmas, it really was. By the time I'd left the store, I'd already decided which bottle to open and what to use it for. It was the right call, and this weekend, it can be yours.

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For what do beautiful, breezy, sunny, weekend days call for if not a clean, crisp, alcoholic, adult Slurpee? That's essentially what this is. It comes by way of Heidi's wonderful book, Super Natural Every Day, but with some detours and adjustments, as Heidi apparently wasn't as desperate for a non-mocktail as I was.

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Heidi's version is a cucumber cooler. Naturally, I added gin. I also upped the lime, subbed sugar for some of the honey (cheaper) and left it in the freezer because I never really liked it when my Slurpee melted. Some things never change.

Cucumber-Gin SlushiesAdapted from Heidi's recipe in Super Natural Every Day

Makes 1 big pitcher, which serves about 4 with a few dribbles left; might want to make a double batch

Notes: Heidi likes lemon cucumbers, which I've never encountered. She says 1 is about 10 oz. of cucumber, which is how much you need for this recipe. I used English cucumber, which she also blesses - but mine were the most monstrous of cucs; I needed only 2/3 of a cucumber for the recipe. If you can't weigh your ingredients, don't worry; this cocktail is supposed to relax you, not stress you out. Aim for a normal-sized English cucumber or 3-4 baby cucumbers.

10 oz. cucumber, partially peeled; see headnote 1/2 c. cold water 3 c. ice cubes (about 1½ trays) 1/3 c. mild honey or sugar Juice of 1 lime, more to taste 5 oz. gin (no need for the fancy stuff here) 1/4 tsp. fine-grain sea salt 5 leaves fresh mint, optional

Combine all the ingredients in a blender. Pulse until smooth, frosty, and free of ice chunks and honey globs. Pour into a pitcher, and store in the fridge or freezer for up to 1 hour before serving.

Burmese Black-Eyed Peas

On our trip to Thailand, we spent some time biking up north between Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai. For two days of our bike trip, we rode along the Thai-Burmese border. It's amazing how you can see into one country from the other - they essentially share a big plot of land - and yet, the topography changes when you cross over. The ride reminded me of a trip I took to Amman, Jordan, while I was living in Jerusalem. The two cities are probably only 50 miles apart, and at that latitude, there isn't even a river separating Jordan from Israel. And yet, where Jerusalem has rolling hills, Amman's main highway runs along a straight cliff.

Apparently, the foods of Thailand and Burma are like the topographies: similar, but also quite different. I've been working my way through Naomi Duguid's wonderful new cookbook, Burma, for the past couple of weeks. Before these peas, I hadn't cooked anything from it, but I've been reading it in bits and pieces, and her stories and recipes are really beautiful. The balance of spicy, sour, and salty flavors in each dish recalls Thai food, but from what I can tell, Burmese cooking is less sweet, possibly spicier, and perhaps slightly funkier as well.

Many of the recipes call for things I don't stock in my kitchen, like dried anchovy powder and preserved soybean disks. But Duguid lists substitutions (fish sauce, miso) where they work, which makes the book more accessible.

We had a couple family friends of D's in town last weekend. Their sons are both chefs, so they know from good food. I decided it was the perfect time to take Burma out for a ride.

Okay, so I was noncommittal at first. I started out with these black-eyed peas, figuring if they didn't turn out to be special, I could take the meal in a different direction. But the peas, quite simply, blew me away. The recipe is called "Peas for many occasions," and Duguid says she makes them in large batches and freezes them for quick meals later. I can see why: the peas are cooked simply, then seasoned just before serving, so the flavors really pop. Once the peas are done, pretty much all that's between them and the table is a quick saute of shallots and tumeric and a squeeze of lime.

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Confident in Burmese food's deliciousness, I dug deeper into Duguid's cookbook, seeking another recipe for Friday night dinner. I settled on a simple but memorable fish curry, which I'll be posting later in the week. Dinner was curry, the peas, some plain rice, and asparagus roasted with sesame oil and salt. It's a meal I'll definitely be making regularly.

If I'd had more time, I might have tried my hand at one of the many condiments Duguid shares in the back of the book. Some are marinated salads, others quick pickles, others spicy, sour pastes. All look amazing.

Since apparently I'm on a south/southeast Asian kick, I'll tell you about one other recipe on my very-shortlist: mango with sticky rice. Champagne mangos were at the grocery store yesterday, and I'm now the proud owner of a bamboo steamer. I'll let you know when I take that on. For now, I'm going to heat up some fish curry.

Burmese Black-Eyed PeasAdapted from Naomi Duguid's new book, Burma

Notes: This recipe calls for fish sauce. You can replace it with soy sauce, but add only half the amount upfront, and taste to see if your beans need the extra teaspoon. Also, I loved the beans just as Duguid made them, but I found that a couple teaspoons of maple syrup really pushed them over the edge. Feel free to skip it, as it's not in the original recipe.

1 cup dried black-eyed peas (Duguid says this recipe works for chickpeas as well) 4 cups water 1 large shallot, coarsely chopped, plus 1/4 cup sliced shallots (about 5 shallots total) 1 inch-long knob of ginger, minced or grated 2 tablespoons peanut or other neutral oil 1/4 teaspoon ground tumeric 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons fish sauce or 1-2 teaspoons soy sauce juice of 1 lime 3 tablespoons chopped cilantro, dill, or mint (or a mixture) 2 teaspoons maple syrup, optional

Put the peas in a large bowl, cover with water by at least an inch, and soak overnight.

Drain the peas and put in a medium pot with the water, the 1 chopped shallot, and the minced ginger. Do not add salt. Bring to a vigorous boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover the pot, and simmer the peas for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until tender. Check periodically to make sure there's enough water in the pot; add more if the water gets low. When the peas are tender, drain them and transfer them to a medium bowl.

About 10 minutes before the peas are done, heat the peanut oil in a small sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add tumeric and the 1/4 cup sliced shallot, and cook, stirring occasionally, until shallot is soft and browned, 3-4 minutes.

If planning to serve now, add the tumeric-shallot mixture to the beans and toss. If serving later, keep the shallot mixture separate (or just plunk it on top of the peas but don't mix it in).

Add either fish sauce or 1 teaspoon of soy sauce, the juice of one lime, the chopped herbs, and the maple syrup, if using. Taste, and add the second teaspoon of soy sauce if needed.

Serve at room temperature.