Zuni Pepper Relish

This past Sunday, thousands of DC residents who work for government frantically checked email to see whether they'd be considered essential staff in the event of a government shutdown. Politicians continued to refine the art of ignorant obstructionism. This town became even more this town-ish.

...and the rest of us? Well, we went outside.

Government shutdown notwithstanding September 2013 should go down in the history books as a glorious time in this town. The weather has been incredible: clear skies, cool breeze, not too much rain. It's practically screaming at you to stop being an idiot, get up off your butt, and get stuff done. The pols may not listen, but I will.

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We spent the morning at the National Arboretum, an outdoor oasis owned by the Department of Agriculture (government! Ahh!) right in the middle of Northeast. It's got big, green pastures, hundreds of varietals of plants, trees, and herbs, and even a separate garden with twenty kinds of chile peppers. The first time we went was for a birthday party that actually happened elsewhere -- oops! -- but we were so taken with the expanses of green in the middle of the city, we decided to go back.

arboretum

We roamed the grounds for an hour, and then -- because what's a hike without a picnic?  -- we chose a speckled sunny spot in the middle of one of the gardens, put down a big blanket, and laid out a majorly awesome spread of food. We covered the blanket with fresh harissa, hummus, three kinds of bread, zaatar-roasted eggplant, cucs, sprouts, avocados, and plenty of feta cheese.

picnic

Oh, and of course, some of this pepper spread.

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Put thoughts of saccharine, mushy relish out of your mind. Would the Zuni Cafe ever commit such a crime? Of course not. It's more of a salad, this pepper relish. It's meaty and rich, the perfect balance of tangy and sweet. At Zuni, they pair it with lamb, quail, and sea bass. I've yet to try any of these combinations, as I've been too busy spooning heaps of it onto sourdough toast.

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For our Sunday outing, I added about 1/2 a cup of the relish to a big bowl of simply cooked white kidney beans, and tossed the mixture with whole peppercorns and plenty of olive oil. The resulting bean-pepper salad was great on its own, but especially tasty piled on baguette with avocado and feta. One of these days, I'll get around to using it for its intended purpose. But between you and me, there's no rush.

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Zuni Pepper RelishAdapted from the Zuni Cafe Cookbook makes about 1 1/3 cups (I doubled it)

2 medium bell peppers (I like red or yellow) 1 1/2 tablespoons dried currants 2 teaspoons sherry or red wine vinegar 1/2 teaspoon warm water 3 tablespoons pine nuts 1 tablespoon freshly chopped basil 2 small garlic cloves, pounded into a paste 3 tablespoons good olive oil 1 to 2 tablespoons sweet sherry or marsala (or substitute 1 teaspoon sherry/wine vinegar and a pinch of sugar) salt

Combine the currants, vinegar, and warm water. Set aside to plump up while you roast the peppers.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Lay peppers on a shallow roasting pan and place on the top rack of the oven. Turn the peppers as their skins start to brown, and roast them for 25-30 minutes, until they are blistered all over and have nearly collapsed.

On a separate, smaller, roasting pan, roast the pine nuts just to warm through, about 4 minutes. Remove and set aside.

Transfer the roasted peppers to a bowl and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Once the peppers are cool enough to handle (about 15 minutes), slip the skins off of the peppers. It's okay if bits of skin remain on the peppers; try to avoid running them under water, since you'll lose much of their flavor that way. Instead, peel the skins over a bowl to catch the juices; if the skins stubbornly stick to your hands, run your hands under water.

Remove the stems, membrane, and seeds from the peppers. Dice the peppers and combine in a bowl with their juices, holding back any seeds that may have fallen in with the pepper liquid.

Combine the peppers, pine nuts, currants, basil, garlic, oil, and sherry/marsala. Taste, and season as desired. Serve at room temperature.

Serving suggestions:

• alongside lamb, quail, or chicken
• as bruschetta on toast
• stirred into a big bowl of cooked white beans for a great fall salad
• on pizza, topped with smoked mozzarella
• as a sauce for grilled white fish (tilapia, rockfish, snapper, etc)

Purslane Salad with Cantaloupe and Feta

Purslane is in season here, and if you've had the chance to buy it straight from a grower, you know that it's far more active of a plant than it might look on the shelf of Whole Foods. Purslane is no wimpy pile of leaves; it's a big, flowery, almost overgrown plant, with thick stems the size of garlic scapes and row after row of firm, round leaves. It announces itself by looks alone, and with its bright, tangy flavor, boy does it pack a punch.

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The stems of purslane, I recently discovered, are quite mucilaginous, not unlike okra. I tried to saute them in a bit of olive oil and I ended up with a stew the texture of gumbo. Next time, I'll leave the stems whole and either grill them, or saute them in a very hot pan with very hot oil, to keep the goo at bay.

But the leaves, that's where the fun is. Purslane is tart, like sorrel, which makes it a perfect pair for summer's sweetest melons.

Last week, when most of what we had in the house consisted of tomatoes in one form or another, I did manage to get my hands on both this purslane and a beautiful cantaloupe. I'd also bought a fresh block of feta, which added the much-needed salty component to this salad. The dressing was an entirely unfussy combination of sherry vinegar and good olive oil (substitute red wine vinegar if you don't have sherry), with a bit of flaky salt and pepper. And because I couldn't resist using some of the beautiful spearmint that I'd bought for the most amazing soup ever (stay tuned), that went in, too. Super simple, really refreshing.

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If you've found purslane and are looking for other things to do with it, here are a few recommendations:

• Use as a bed for steak salad or duck confit
• Add to potato salad; dress with a spicy, mustard-heavy dressing
• Toss with sesame noodles; dress with a thin, soy-based dressing heavy on the sesame oil
• Combine with sauteed tofu, julienned carrots, and some avocado in rice paper rolls; serve with peanut sauce

And if you want even more ideas, Clotilde over at Chocolate and Zucchini wrote a post with more suggestions that you can fit into a single season.

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Happy purslaning!

Purslane Salad with Cantaloupe and Feta serves 2 as a main course, 4 as an appetizer or component of a meal

1 big bunch of purslane 2 cups diced cantaloupe 5 oz. good, briny feta cheese, crumbled or cubed (your choice) 3 sprigs spearmint or peppermint, just leaves 2 tablespoons sherry or red wine vinegar 1/4 cup good olive oil flaky salt and pepper (about 1/4 teaspoon each, less if your salt is fine)

Separate the thin stems and their attached leaves from the thick central branch, and cut them into smallish sprigs.

Toss purslane, cantaloupe, feta, and mint in a large bowl.

Combine sherry, olive oil, salt, and pepper, and whisk until combined. Drizzle over salad and toss to combine. Spoon out onto small plates and serve immediately.

Roasted Figs with Turbinado Sugar

Next week is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. We'll have a full house, a fuller fridge, and a freezer stuffed so tight that eeek, please don't open it too quickly. The lamb is cooked, frozen, and ready to go. (Want to make the one we made? It's the best lamb ever and I shared the recipe with The Forward so you can make it, too. Go right ahead.) I also froze two soups -- one's a triple garlic soup from Melissa Clark; the other has teeny, tiny meatballs suspended in a sour, salty broth. It's insanely delicious. I'm hoping to share it with you early next week.

And what about dessert? Well: I've got one last pint of fresh blueberries left in my fridge. wouldn't my guests just love to be served this genius fresh blueberry tart after the big feast? And I've somehow managed to save a handful of the beautiful apricots I got from Randy a couple weeks back. They still look perfect. I wonder if I should work them into some sort of show-stopping finale for the new year?

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Maybe not. Let's face it: everyone wants honey cake. Those who don't want honey cake just want apple cake. All the excitement about apricots and blueberries is so last month, I guess.

Apple cake and honey cake are great, don't get me wrong. In fact, last year, I smushed the two together (is that turning into a habit?) and gave you a pretty stellar Apples and Honey Cake. That's the recipe I'll be making again for our new year dinner.

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But I'll also be making these roast figs, to serve alongside that old standby of a cake. You should too -- if only to appease those of us who get sad at the thought of blueberries, strawberries, apricots, blackberries, raspberries, and peaches being replaced by just apples. Apples and honey are great, but summer doesn't last forever. It's worth celebrating it while you can.

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The original recipe is simple: figs, marsala, turbinado sugar. But if you don't have marsala, you can use madeira, brandy, or even some red wine. Not the same, but equally delicious. Between you and me, I liked madeira best. (If you use red wine, may I suggest Melissa Clark's Red Wine Honey Cake as an accompaniment?) When figs hang out in a hot oven with just the right amount of alcohol and sugar, their flesh gets soft and sticky, maybe a bit caramelized, and wholly irresistible. Set them next to a slice of honey cake, and you can have summer and fall in one bite.

Roasted Figs with Turbinado SugarAdapted from Nigel Slater's Ripe Serves 4 as a small dessert or component thereof

Slater calls for marsala in his original recipe. I liked that combination a lot, but between you and me, I liked madeira -- another fortified wine -- even more. If you don't have either, go ahead and use brandy or straight-up red wine.

8 figs 1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon marsala, madeira, brandy, or red wine 2 tablespoons turbinado sugar (3 tablespoons if using dry marsala or red wine) Heavy cream for serving, optional

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Remove the fig stems. Slice figs one of two ways: either halve them lengthwise, or slice an X about halfway through the length of the fig, and fan the quarters open.

Place figs in a baking dish. Drizzle the marsala over the figs and sprinkle the sugar overtop. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until figs are very tender and their tops have caramelized slightly.

Divide figs among serving bowls and top each with a small spoonful of the now very-reduced cooking liquid. Top with a spoonful or two of cream, if desired. Serve immediately.

Peach-Tomato Salad, a few ways

An unlikely pairing, these two. Tomatoes and peaches, when at their prime, are both so juicy and flavorful that you need something crusty to soak up all those juices. Peaches get tucked under biscuit dough and baked up into cobbler. In this house, tomatoes have no finer place than atop a slice of toasted garlic-rubbed sourdough bread, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with flaky salt. These are noble dishes. They make intuitive sense.

But rules are meant to be broken, especially in summertime, and this is the salad to do it. It is a big, summery bowl full of juice, and there's nothing to sop it up. (Spoiler alert: serve with crusty bread.) But the juice that gathers at the bottom of the salad bowl is the purest extraction of summer. It is elixir, and you will want to hoard it, and spoon it up, and drink it straight.

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Without excellent peaches and tomatoes, this salad isn't worth making. Splurge at the farmers' market. Or, if your local famers' carry discounted "second" fruit with blemishes, this is a great place to use them. Once they're cut and macerated, you won't notice little imperfections in the fruit.

Let's talk about variations:

• Add a big handful of arugula or watercress and a couple chunks of feta cheese
• Toast 1/4 cup of almonds (or slivered almonds) and add them with a pinch of dried red chile
• Add a teaspoon of pomegranate syrup and a pinch or two of sumac
• My personal favorite: add chunks of avocado and a handful of homemade croutons

If you've got other ideas, don't hold back.

As far as how to serve this salad, other than gobble it plain, a big crusty piece of

bread

- I prefer toasted - is good for sopping up juices. You could also cut the fruit up smaller, add a chopped jalapeno and the juice of a lime, and you've got a beautiful

salsa fresca

that would be great served on any grilled white fish or on fish

tacos

. Boom.

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Or, if you literally want to drink your salad, you can make it, and then puree it into a fantastic sweet-tart gazpacho. Chile and lime optional.

Drink up, friends. Enjoy the weekend.

Peach-Tomato Salad serves 2

2 ripe, juicy peaches 2 plump, red beefsteak tomatoes 2 tablespoons good, fruity olive oil 1/2 teaspoon flaky salt freshly ground pepper to taste

Peel the peach using a peeler or a paring knife. Split in half down the dimpled pole of the peach, and pry the two half moons away from the pit. Cut each half into 4 slices, and then cut each slice in half. Transfer to a bowl with all the accumulated juices.

Cut the tomato into similar segments: cut in half, cut each half into 4 slices, and halve each slice. Transfer to the same bowl with juices.

Drizzle the olive oil over the fruit. Add some of the salt, and use a spoon to fold everything together without bruising the fruit too much. Taste, and add more salt and fresh pepper to taste. At this point, the salad is ready. It can rest happily on the counter until you're ready to eat, or you can gobble it all down immediately.

Peach-Tomato Salsa serves 4

2 ripe peaches 2 ripe tomatoes juice of half a lime half a jalapeno or serrano chile salt and pepper to taste

Peel peaches. Cut into full slices, cut each slice into strips, and cut each strip into cubes. Size is your choice - I like itsy bitsy pieces for chips, but chunky hunks for tacos.

Repeat with tomatoes, cutting into similarly sized pieces as the peaches. Dice the chile as small as you can.

Combine everything but salt and pepper in a bowl. Add salt and pepper gradually, tasting as you go, until your salsa is balanced to your taste. Serve immediately, or let the juices accumulate for a while.