Green Beans Vinaigrette with Feta and Cherries

Until last year, I didn't know green beans' season. I didn't even know they had a season. I saw them in the grocery store pretty much year round, so I assumed they were one of those magical vegetables that could grow through the frost.

Not so: green beans have a season, and that season is right now. Take a closer look at the green beans at your local market, and you'll quickly notice the difference between them and the ones your grocery store displays during other times of the year. Summer beans are a light, bright green. their pods are smooth and taught, and when you bend one, it only goes so far before that satisfying *snap.* Looking at the pod, you shouldn't be able to tell where the beans are within. If the beans protrude enought that they betray their shape through the pod, that green bean is either out of season, or very old.

I usually think of green beans as a side dish. I cook them szechuan-style to serve in rice bowls, blanch them and serve with pesto alongside a belly of salmon, and add them to green salads to lend some heft. But with a few flourishes, green beans can be the star of the show. Now that they're hitting their stride, I've taken to blanching a few pounds at once, keeping them in the fridge, and using them in different weekday lunch options throughout the week. This dish is a recent favorite.

Yes, cherries--again!--because, well, I can't get enough. These ones are dried, and if you can't find dried cherries, you certainly can substitute raisins, currants, or cranberries. As for feta, please use the full-fat stuff. and good-quality If you live in the Mid-Atlantic, I really love Keswick Creamer's Feta de Provence and Feta with Dill and Chives. If not, look for a rich, creamy feta whose flavor you enjoy alone.

You could easily double the vinaigrette recipe and store it in a jar on the counter (or, if you're particularly nervous about food safety, the fridge). With pre-blanched green beans and ready-to-go vinaigrette, this is weekday lunch at the ready.

Green Beans with Feta and Cherries Vinaigrette

8 oz. green beans 2 tablespoons minced shallot 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar 1 teaspoon honey 1 teaspoon grainy mustard 1/4 cup dried cherries reconstituted in 1/2 cup boiling water for 30 minutes 1/4 cup creamy feta cheese salt and pepper to taste

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Fill a large bowl with ice cubes and water and set aside.

Add green beans to boiling water, cover, and cook 2-3 minutes, until green beans are crisp-tender. Check a green bean at 2 minutes and 2:30 to check for doneness - don't let these beans go limp.

As soon as beans are perfectly crisp tender - and not a minute later - strain beans into the bowl of ice water to "shock" them: this stops the cooking immediately and preserves the beans' bright green color.

Strain beans out of ice water and blot dry with a towel. Dump ice water. Transfer back into the bowl that contained the ice water.

In a small bowl, combine all ingredients except feta and cherries. Whisk with a fork to combine, then pour over beans and toss until all beans are coated with the vinaigrette.

Fold in cherries and feta cheese, taking care to keep some chunks of feta along with all the smaller bits. Serve.

The salad will keep well for several hours, so you can prepare it in the morning and eat it for lunch. If making more than a few hours in advance, pack vinaigrette separately from other ingredients, and mix in just before eating.

Chard Ohitashi

I first had sushi when I was 12. I was at summer camp, and we took a trip into the city for the day. My friends - far more cosmopolitan than I - had been missing sushi ever since their parents dropped them off at Camp Ramah, and I, never having encountered the stuff, was nonetheless eager to tag along and discover the magic. The bus dropped us off at Faneuil Hall, and from there, we set out to find a sushi bar. Find one that's crowded, they advised, as we walked along the side streets poking our heads into various Japanese restaurants. Never eat sushi if the restaurant's empty.

When we finally found a crowded enough spot that they were satisfied, we sat down, wiped our hands, and prepared to eat. I was excited and curious - and they were downright giddy, thrilled to witness the first time I popped a piece of raw fish in my mouth. It was a tuna roll - that's where I started. And admittedly, I was afraid I wouldn't like the texture, so I sort of just swallowed it whole. And then coughed. A lot. They cackled away; it was a grand time.

While the tuna maki is what sticks in my mind from that day, it was also the first time I tried miso soup, seaweed salad, and ohitashi. In fact, before that day, I'd never heard of any of the things we ate. Miso was a foreign concept, seaweed salad sounded awful (until I ate it), and ohitashi - well, my friend Jess ordered it, and I literally had no idea what'd be landing on our table. But out came a bowl of spinach, dressed with something delicious. And that, I happily gobbled right up - no gulping or coughing involved. I was hooked.

These days, I rarely order ohitashi. I can't seem to resist the allure of seaweed salad. Just when I thought it might not be something I ate much again, I found out how easy it was to make the stuff at home. Now it's a whole different ballgame; now I definitely don't order ohitashi in restaurants.

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Sorry - let's take a step back. Ohitashi: a cold marinated spinach salad, with soy, mirin, and sesame seeds. Secret ingredient: katsuobushi, which are dried flakes of bonito, a small, japanese fish not unlike mackerel. Bonito, like miso, is an umami-bomb. It makes everything taste super delicious. Super-delicious: that's a technical term.

Katsuobushi smells like stinky cheese, only a bit worse. Think fish sauce. It tastes totally un-stinky, though. If you're nervous about it, just remember that dashi - the basis of miso soup, soba broth, etc - is made with bonito flakes. If you're still nervous, skip it. The salad will be great without it, and also vegan.

Sushi bars make ohitashi with spinach, but it's great with any green - chard, collard, you name it. Kale would be even more firm, but it'd still be great.

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One more note about ohitashi: it isn't the sort of salad composed of light, airy leaves kissed with vinaigrette. The greens are blanched, then drained, then mixed with the dressing and allowed to just hang out for a while. At sushi bars, they wrap the spinach around itself, so the salad comes in a tight coil that you peel apart as you eat. That's why it's served not on a plate, where the greens can breathe, but in a little bowl. Sort of like miso soup, come to think of it.

But everything is flexible. Spinach or chard, plates or bowls, bonito flakes or not. It's just a straight-up good salad. The world needs more of those, don't you think?

Chard Ohitashiadapted from a recipe on Food52 serves 4 as an appetizer

9 oz (about 12 cups) chard, rinsed and sliced into thick, bite-sized ribbons 1/4 cup light soy sauce (not low-sodium - usukuchi; or just use whatever soy sauce you have) 1/4 cup mirin 2 teaspoons sriracha (more to taste) 1-inch knob of fresh ginger, peeled and grated 2 tablespoons sesame seeds 1/4 cup lightly packed bonito flakes (feel free to skip if you wish)

Bring a pot of unsalted water to a boil. Once the water is boiling, add chard - you may need to do this in a couple batches - and blanch, just until softened, 1-2 minutes. Strain chard - if you're particular, shock it in an ice bath; I'm not - and set aside. You'll see that the chard has wilted considerably and is about a tenth of its former size. Don't fret.

Meanwhile, make the dressing: combine soy sauce, mirin, sriracha, and ginger in a medium-large bowl.

Transfer the chard into the bowl with the dressing, and mix the two together using a fork to coat all the chard in dressing. Transfer the mixed salad into the fridge, and let sit at least one hour before serving. Believe it or not, this gets better the longer it sits.

To serve, scoop the chard into small bowls, and top with a sprinkle of sesame seeds and a pinch of bonito flakes. Eat up.

Mushroom Pea Curry

It's a week after New Years, and I'm talking about vegetables. Could  I be more predictable?

Yes, it's that time of year when everyone you know has committed to hit the gym 3 days a week, quit cursing, and eat less meat. Personal experience tells me that while everyone clamors to steal my spot at spin class for a few weeks after the holidays, by mid-February, I've got my bike back (even if I have to call before 6 to reserve it - and yes, it's that worth the early wake-up: Dave is my overenthusiastic spinning instructor who hasn't bought a record since "Walking on Sunshine," and I love him for it.)

I've made resolutions before. A couple Augusts ago, I spent an inspiring day with my friend Cathy (known to the interwebs as Mrs. Wheelbarrow), and felt so fired up by all the things we'd made that I spontaneously made a list of Kitchen Resolutions. You know what? I've done all but two - I'm pretty proud of that.

Still, when it comes to traditional New Years resolutions, I'm more of a tweaker, preferring incremental changes to whole-hog lifestyle makeovers. While eating minimal meat was how I was raised, it's also a lifestyle choice I've consciously adopted. I try to avoid meat and poultry from animals not raised sustainably, which means most of the meat served at large functions and in typical restaurants is off-limits. I also keep a kosher home, and there's no way around the fact that kosher sustainable meat is incredibly expensive; I buy it only a few times each year. As such, I'm always on the lookout for interesting vegetarian dishes. This time of year, with all those Meatless Monday resolution-makers, I've got plenty of company.

A few weeks back, before climbing onboard for two family vacations (more about those later), a slew of holiday parties, and really more cookies than I feel comfortable counting, we made Indian food for dinner. I steamed basmati rice with saffron. I grilled up some impossibly smooth, silky avocado chapatis. We made Jen'sCurryflouwer Surprise. And then there was this: mushroom and pea curry from the queen of Indian cooking, Madhur Jaffrey. It's the best curry I've made to date.

I like that this curry has a thick, substantial texture even without potato. You could make it even more substantial by adding paneer, but I like it just as is, over rice, with some raita on the side. The sauce is rich from tomato and diced onion and Jaffrey isn't shy with the spices. One last plus: while some mushroom dishes get mushy after some time, this curry will keep for days. Call me crazy, but I think it may even improve as it sits.

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I've made this twice for us, and brought a big container to friends who just had a baby. We all think it's a winner. So don't kick those "vegan 'till 6" resolutions to the curb just yet. There's plenty of flavor in this curry, no meat needed.

When your Indian leftovers run out, here are some other meatless recipes I've made and loved, from around the web:

• Black bean and espresso chili from The Kitchn
• Fideos from Deb at Smitten Kitchen (vegetable stock worked well here)
• Double broccoli quinoa from Heidi at 101 Cookbooks (I made it with cavatappi)
• Silken comfort tofu from Food52 (use a tablespoon of soy in place of the fish sauce)
• Eggplant involtini from Nigella Lawson

Mushroom and Pea CurryAdapted from Madhur Jaffrey Serves 4 as part of a larger meal (i.e. we made it with rice, raita, and another curry, and it was enough for two meals for each of us)

1 tablespoon ground coriander 1/2 tablespoon ground cumin 1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper 3 tablespoons ghee or canola oil 1/4 cup diced onions (about 1/2 a medium onion) 1-inch knob of ginger, peeled and finely grated 1 1/2 cups diced tomato (fresh or canned) 1 1/4 teaspoons salt 1 lb. cremini or button mushrooms, halved lengthwise (quartered if very large) 1 10-oz. bag frozen peas, defrosted (if not, no biggie)

Combine dry spices with 1 1/2 tablespoons water in a small bowl, and mix to form a paste.

Put ghee or oil in medium saucepan over medium heat. When oil shimmers, add onions. Stir to coat with oil, and saute for 3-4 minutes, until onions are browned at the edges. Add ginger and spices, stir to coat, and cook for about 1 minute. Add tomato. Stir and cook, scraping the bottom of the pan, for about 4 minutes, until tomato has softened. If tomato sticks to pan excessively, add a splash of water.

When tomato has softened, add 2 cups of water and the salt. Stir and bring to a boil; then reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 20 minutes.

Add mushrooms, bring back to a boil, then reduce heat again and cook 10 minutes. Add peas, stir to combine, and cook 5 minutes more over medium-low heat, until warmed through. At this point, check and adjust salt level.

Serve with basmati rice and raita (this one from Elise at Simply Recipes is really lovely).

Butterscotch Pudding

2011, over already? Jeez.

It was a big year, 2011. Perhaps not as epic as 2010 (marriage!), but 2011 saw our first anniversary (with drinks at the W and dinner at Palena - lucky us!) and, in the same month, the purchase of our first home (an awesome condo with plenty of open space, a dream kitchen, and a deck...have I really not shown you pictures yet? Wristslap! We'll solve that soon.)

D started a new job this year, and I've been busier than ever at mine. More direct reports, more travel, and generally more responsibiity have all thrown something of a wrench in my grand plan to post more in 2011. You see, I've got so much to share with you; all sorts of little tips and tricks, entertaining ideas, and tasty morsels I ate in restaurants and tried to recreate at home. I want to share them all with you. But time was scarce in 2011, so some of those tips, tricks, ideas, and recipes - well, they're still lodged in a far corn of my brain, waiting patiently for 2012.

madeira tart

Some of our cooking, eating, drinking, and food-coma-ranting did actually make it to this space, though. There were bourbon pecan bars and ginger brownies that will make you swoon, I guarantee it; Easy green beans with pesto vinaigrette that I've made, oh, 20 times since first posting about them; and of course, my favorite fish dish ever, which took me only 5 years to finally share with you - Veracruz-style snapper. With a new year on the horizon, I'm ready as ever to find more memorable food - and to share it with all of you.

ndp beans

So let's get the new year off to an auspicious start, shall we?

butterscotch pudding

Friends, you will adore this butterscotch pudding. It's deeply caramelized, rich and thick, perfumed with plenty of vanilla and whisky. I'm thinking 2012 may just be the year of the pudding - and someone with top-notch food-prediction pedigree seems to agree with me. So here you go: the first pudding of 2012. It'll be the first of many, I hope.

In fact, I'm already making good on that last wish. Tonight, we're eating not one, but two different puddings for dessert. I'm setting up a Pudding Bar - and if, after this holiday season ends, you still have a hankering to entertain friends, you can do the same. I'm stocking the kitchen counter with big bowls of this here butterscotch pudding, as well as a chocolate coconut pudding from 101 Cookbooks. Alongside, I'll have little bowls filled with toasted coconut, sliced almonds, two kinds of cookie crumbles, grated chocolate, and whipped cream. Everyone gets a bowl to make their own customized pudding parfaits. Entertaining at its easiest and most delicious, yes?

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I thought you'd agree.

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So here's to a sweet 2012, filled with happiness, laughter, warmth, adventure, fear that comes with trying new things, and of course, plenty of pudding.

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Butterscotch Puddingadapted from a recipe by David Lebovitz Serves 4-6

So why did I dare change a David L recipe? Well, I wanted my sugar caramelized; I wanted some cream with my milk; and yes, I wanted more whiskey. So here you have it - a deeply caramelized butterscotch pudding with a generous helping of booze. Call it scotchy butterscotch.

1 cup brown sugar 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1/4 teaspoon coarse salt 1/2 cup cream 2 cups milk 3 tablespoons cornstarch or tapioca flour 2 eggs 1 tablespoon whiskey 1 teaspoon vanilla 1/2 cup whipped cream, for topping 1 oz. bittersweet chocolate, grated

Put sugar in a medium saucepan and set over medium heat. When sugar starts to melt, begin stirring gently with a fork. The sugar quickly will turn from caramelized to burnt, so watch it like a hawk. When sugar has melted and has started to smell like caramel (but before it smells burnt!), stir in the butter, 1 tablespoon at a time. When butter has all been incorporated, add cream in a slow stream until it, too, has been fully incorporated. At this point, you should have a dark brown liquidy caramel. Remove pan from the heat, add salt, and set aside.

In a small bowl, whisk cornstarch or tapioca flour into 1/2 cup of milk, stirring until mixture is completely smooth. Add eggs one at a time, and whisk to incorporate.

Slowly pour the remaining milk into the saucepan with the caramel mixture, stirring to combine. Then add the starch slurry and whisk that in, too. Set over a medium flame and heat, whisking continuously, until mixture has the texture of hot fudge. remove from heat and whisk another 60 seconds to help the pudding cool. Add whiskey and vanilla, and whisk to combine.

You'll refrigerate the pudding in the bowl(s) in which you plan to serve it. For family style, spoon it into a serving bowl. alternatively, set several small glasses or bowls on a rimmed baking sheet and spoon pudding into those dishes. If you like pudding skin, refrigerate either uncovered or covered with plastic wrap. If you don't like pudding skin, press the plastic wrap against the surface of the pudding. (Incidentally, if you don't like pudding skin, you can refrigerate the pudding in one large bowl, and apportion it right before serving. Whatever you prefer.)

To serve, top each cup of pudding with a dollop of whipped cream and a teaspoon or so of grated chocolate.