Summer Succotash

Round next of my weekday lunch series, where I post about dishes that'll put PB&J to shame.

I love the flavor of buttery, salty, corn on the cob. I love it even more now that I've discovered the sweetest corn ever, from Toigo Orchards. Toigo sets up shop at the Dupont farmers' market; their corn has apparently won "best at the market" several years in a row. The last time I bought it, I was told it was picked the day before; it doesn't get much fresher than that. And having tried other ears, they really don't compare. Some are too starchy, and others have a thick, almost leathery skin around the kernel, whereas Toigo's ears are sweet, the thin-skinned kernels practically bursting with juice.

Having bought quite a few ears last week, I was searching for new things to do with them come week's end. For dinner on Friday night, I served this succotash dish -- a very simple play on that classic Southern staple. It's got the flavor of sweet, salty cob corn but with just a drizzle of olive oil instead of the usual butter. I bulked up the succotash with some chopped green beans, which I left on the raw side, and panfried zucchini, which I essentially seared in a smoking but oil-less castiron pan, then allowed to soften in the serving bowl. The succotash gets a boost from freshly-squeezed lemon juice and a bit of the lemon's zest, but other than that, olive oil, salt, and pepper are its only seasoning. When the produce is this good, you don't want to doctor it up much more than that.

Summer Succotash serves 4

3 summer squash (I used a mix of long yellow squash and stubby green pattypan, but anything will work -- you're going for between 1.5 and 2 pounds.) 3 ears of corn, husks and strings removed, kernels cut from cob 1 lb. green beans, trimmed and cut into thirds 1 lemon 4 tablespoons olive oil

Slice squash on bias into 1/2-inch slices. Heat a large, well-seasoned castiron pan or a nonstick pan over medium-high heat (If using stainless steel, add a bit of olive oil to lubricate.) When pan is very hot, place some of the squash slices in the pan in a single layer and cook until browned, about 3 minutes. Flip and repeat with flip side, 3 minutes more. Sprinkle liberally with sald, then transfer to a large non-reactive bowl; squash will not feel completely soft, but they will soften as they sit. Continue cooking squash in batches until all slices have been cooked.

Next, add 2 Tbsp. olive oil to pan, and add corn. Cook, stirring constantly, about 1 minute; salt, and transfer to bowl with squash. Add remaining 2 Tbsp. olive oil and green beans to pan; cook about 1-2 minutes, salt, and transfer to bowl.

Stir vegetables until well-distributed. Grind some fresh black pepper into the bowl, and zest and squeeze the lemon overtop. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Wheatberry Salad with Cranberries, Feta, and Mint

Yet another installment of my weekday lunch series; you can never have enough recipes for midday workplace eats.

I don't have anything to share about this recipe that's particularly exciting. It's just another rendition of my standard grain+bean+berry+herb salad formula. But I realized as I made this salad that it was my first time making wheatberries. At least, I'm pretty sure it was my first time -- in any event, it definitely won't be my last. Wheatberries are pretty underrated, so much so that when I served them last Friday night, most everyone around the table asked what they were. "Wheat," I replied. No one got it; "What part of the wheat? Like, they're really just wheat? Are they some sort of berries that grow off the wheat crop?" No, I replied, it's really just wheat. Funny that we don't know what the food we eat most often actually looks like, but that's a story for another time.

Wheatberries are sweet and nutty, with a nice solid texture. They're probably super versatile; I can envision them in a variety of salads, soups, and stews. Writing that line, I just remembered that I've actually used wheatberries before, when making the Sephardic version of cholent, the rib-sticking stew made on Friday and cooked at a low temperature through the night. Unlike the Eastern European recipe of barley, beans, potatoes, beef, and eggs, the Sephardic version, called "Hamin," is made with wheatberries, chickpeas, and dates in addition to the beef, chicken, and other leftovers. The wheatberries are cooked inside cheesecloth wrapper within the dish, so they can be piled separately onto the plate as a bed for the rest of the goodies.

Hamin is for another day. This here salad is simple and fresh, and it's a great way to make use of any leftover herbs you may have. I used cranberries, mint, black eyed peas, and Keswick Creamery feta (the best feta on earth, btw -- would you believe it's cheaper than the imitation crap at the grocery store?), but I can envision an equally delicious version with feta, sundried tomatoes, basil, and navy beans, or with cilantro, kidney beans, fresh tomatoes, and some chipotle en adobo. I made a super-tangy vinaigrette with some Honeycup honey mustard, fresh lemon, salt, pepper, chopped shallot, and olive oil -- but any old vinaigrette would do just fine. My pics don't have the feta, because I put it in just before serving -- but don't leave it out; it adds a brininess that plays really well with the sweet tartness of the cranberries and the freshness of the mint.

Wheatberry Salad with Cranberries, Feta, and Mint

1 cup wheatberries (available at natural foods stores) 1 can or 1 cup dried black eyed peas 1/2 cup diced or crumbled Feta 1/2 cup thinly sliced red onion 1/2 cup dried cranberries, cherries, or other dried berries 1/2 cup chopped mint 5 tablespoons olive oil 5 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, or to taste 1 tablespoon mustard (I like a sharp honey mustard) freshly cracked pepper, to taste

In a pot of boiling salted water, cook the wheat berries for 1 hour, or until they are tender, and drain them. (At this stage, the wheatberries can be stored for several days in a covered container until ready to use.) In a small bowl, mix lemon juice, olice oil, salt, pepper, and mustard. Whisk to combine, and adjust as necessary. In a large bowl stir together the wheat berries and all other ingredients. Toss to combine. Serve cold or room temperature.

Bulgur with Black Eyed Peas, Spinach and Dates

Yet another installment of my weekday lunch series. You can never have enough work-lunch-friendly dishes, now can you?

I work on the ninth floor of my firm's office building. There are lots of conference rooms on our floor, and when a lunch meeting yields leftovers, they usually make their way into the ninth floor kitchen, which happens to be right across from my cubicle. When we hear the clomp-clomp of high heels in the kitchen and the rustling of plastic trays and wrap paper, we know it's going to be good. Within seconds, my entire pod will have descended on the kitchen, scavenging for the best wrap, the freshest-looking corner of the spinach salad, the last piece of baklava. After poking around for ourselves, we'll shoot out an email to our friends down the hall alerting them to the free food bonanza. We're that nice.

Yesterday, there were two big trays of spinach salad in the conference room. Spinach salad = dry baby spinach, quartered artichoke hearts, shavings of parmesan cheese and dressing on the side. After everyone had a go at the salad (and the baklava and brownies), I rinsed out my lunch tupperware and filled it to the rim with dry baby spinach. That stuff is good, and not cheap -- it'd be a shame to see it go to waste.

Around 11 last night, when I got to throwing lunch together, I remembered that spinach that I'd tucked in the fridge earlier in the evening. I decided to steam it for a few minutes and fold it into a bulgur salad, along with leftover mixed mushrooms and a couple of chopped, sauteed dates (one of my latest and greatest flavor-boosters). For some protein, I added half a can of black eyed peas; for background flavor, some caramelized onions. For zing, a dash of soy sauce, a hit of sherry vinegar, and some black pepper. That was really all it needed.

Much as I've enjoyed a week straight of Greek salad for lunch, I'm relieved that today's tupperware contains no feta, tomatoes, olives, or capers. I'm kind of excited for lunch!

Bulgur with Black Eyed Peas, Spinach, Dates, and Mushrooms makes 2 servings

1 cup bulgur, cooked and fluffed according to package directions (bulgur usually takes about 15 minutes in boiling water) 2 heaping cups raw baby spinach 2 Tbsp. olive oil 1 cup mixed mushrooms, chopped 4 dates, pitted and chopped 2 Tbsp. caramelized onions 1/2 can black eyed peas, or about 2/3 cup cooked black eyed peas (other beans, such as navy or cannellini, will do just fine) 1 tsp. soy sauce 1 Tbsp. sherry vinegar fresh cracked pepper Chopped fresh parsley or mint, optional

Cook bulgur according to package directions, and set aside.

In a large pot, heat enough water to come about 2 inches up the side of the pot. Rinse spinach and place in steamer. When water is boiling, place steamer inside pot and cover with lid. Steam spinach about 6 minutes, until tender but still bright green. Remove steamer from pot and transfer spinach to medium bowl. Set aside.

Heat olive oil in a small saucepan over medium high heat. Add mushrooms, and cook, stirring occasionally, until they have given off their liquid and are fragrant. Salt to taste. Add chopped dates to the pan and cook one more minute, until dates are soft and warm. Turn off heat and transfer mushroom mixture to the bowl with the spinach. Add caramelized onions, black eyed peas and bulgur, and toss to incorporate. Add soy sauce, vinegar, and pepper and stir to coat. Taste and adjust, adding more salt, pepper, and vinegar as desired. Serve cold or room temperature. Sprinkle with chopped herbs just before serving.

Rigatoni with Broccoli Rabe

If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know by now that I'm a self proclaimed ingredient-adder. I've got issues leaving things simple: I find myself constantly tempted to tinker, to add just one more spice or sauce or vegetable or seed or something. I've been working on it, folks, really I have, but it ain't easy.

As much as I'm inclined to clean out my pantry into a recipe, there are certain recipes that are not to be futzed with. One of those recipes is Marcella Hazan's pasta with broccoli rabe. Hazan is a legendary Italian cook and cookbook author. Her directions are so very precise, her knowledge and expertise so colossal, I'd be crazy to fiddle with her ingredients or proportions.

You've probably seen broccoli rabe in the grocery store or farmers' market: it's usually a medium-sized head of greens with a couple very young broccoli florets poking out the top. It's leafy and bitter, and according to Adam, the Amateur Gourmet (who quotes Lydia Bastianich and Julia Child, who am I to disagree?), it gets more complex with every chew. Broccoli rabe -- also known as rapini -- is absolutely delicious on pasta paired with anchovies, crushed chili peppers, and parmesan cheese. I used whole wheat rigatoni (see the smoke coming out of Marcella Hazan's ears? yikes) but as she says, the "natural match" for this sauce is orecchiete, which are shaped like miniature flying saucers. She also recommends using salt-preserved anchovy fillets, preferably prepared at home. While the idea of using fresh, home-prepped anchovies makes my mouth water, their very short shelf life has always deterred me from actually doing it, and I tend to stick with the high-quality oil-packed ones. They're available at most high-end markets; these days, most every grocery store has them, usually in oil-packed jars and in squeezable tubes. (I recommend the jars, not the tubes -- anchovy toothpaste isn't the hottest idea.)

One final note about this recipe before you run out to grab that anchovy toothpaste. This one's for the anchovy-haters -- I know you're out there. If you're even still reading this, I'm impressed that you didn't see the word "anchovy" and run away. Point is, please don't hate on the anchovies. They're so, so delicious, and they really are mashed into a paste in many recipes, so you don't have to see them. And frankly, nothing can replace that unmistakable taste of anchovy. So take a big breath and give'em a try. If you hate'em, sorry, and I guess I owe you a few bucks. If you love'em, you can thank me for giving you the extra nudge.

Rigatoni with Broccoli Rabe from Marcella Hazan

1 pound dried orecchiette or other pasta 2 cups water 1 teaspoon salt 1 bunch rapini, about 1 pound, trimmed 5 tablespoons olive oil, divided 3 anchovy fillets, chopped 2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes 1/2 cup grated pecorino Romano cheese

1. Cook pasta according to package instructions, in well-salted water; drain, reserving some of the pasta water, and set aside. Meanwhile, heat water and salt to a boil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add rapini; cook until crisp-tender, about 4 minutes. Drain in colander; cool under cold running water, drain, and set aside.

2. Heat 3 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Stir in anchovies, pressing lightly with a spatula to help break up the fillets. Cook 1 minute. Stir in rapini, garlic and red pepper flakes. Cook, stirring constantly, until garlic softens, about 5 minutes.

3. Toss pasta with rapini mixture in a large serving bowl. If extra liquid is necessary to unclump pasta or make rapini more easily integrated, add pasta water by the 1/4 cup. Drizzle with remaining 2 Tbsp of the olive oil and cheese; toss.