Yam Som-O: Thai Pomelo Salad

I know, I know, I still haven't posted about our trip to Thailand. Sorry! I did just go through my pictures this weekend, and gosh - we really had a fantastic time. The food was amazing and loads of fun to relive. Lots of obsessing about everything Thai is coming your way - I can't wait to share it all with you.

The one thing you've already heard about (and heard about, and heard about) from our Thailand adventure is yam som-o, pomelo salad. Ever since I had it that first time, at an absurdly named but very tasty restaurant in Bangkok called The Foodie, I've wanted to recreate it at home. When yam som-o is done right, it's the perfect balance of spicy, sour, salty, sweet, crunchy, and juicy. It's downright addictive, and after falling hard for it that first day in Bangkok, I sought it out everywhere we went. The version at The Foodie was heavy on the crunch: I think the garlic and shallot were very, very lightly battered before they were fried. There were also a lot of fried herbs in it, which are hard to do in the US since kaffir lime leaves don't grow on trees down the street. And their dressing was heavy on the tamarind and heavy on the palm sugar, which feels a bit like cheating (sweet salad!) but made stuff even more impossible to stop eating than it would have been.

The few street establishments where I had yam som-o made a much different rendition, with more (and fresher) pomelo, less sugar, and more herbs, none of them fried. The dressing at these street spots had tamarind and some palm sugar, but it also had coconut milk and loads of lime juice, which made the salad taste more like salad. Pomelo wasn't in season when we were there; I can only imagine how much more of it I'd have eaten (and how much better?) if it were. So when I returned to DC to find that my local grocery had just gotten pomelo in, I pounced, splurged on three, and started testing.

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If you've never worked with pomelo before, you're in for a treat. Pomelo is similar to grapefruit, but much firmer and more fragrant. It's got a super-thick rind and pith, so you'll be surprised to find that, despite its large size, the fruit inside resembles a grapefruit. For yam som-o, you'll be removing the membrane of each section, leaving naked segments of pomelo that can be broken into whatever size you like. This takes a bit of patience. Turn on some good music, get into a zone, and you'll be done in no time.

I'm told traditional yam som-o is made with large pieces of fruit, so I broke each segment into about three pieces, but if you want more of a shredded salad texture, you can do that easily.

The balance of both the salad ingredients and the dressing is key, and it changes from salad to salad. I don't know how sweet your pomelo is, or how sour your tamarind. To make this salad taste right, you'll need to really get in there, tasting and adjusting as you go.

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You'll also come to find your preferred balance of fruit to herbs to nuts to crunchies. I've included my proportions below, but do feel at liberty to increase or decrease portions if, say, you really love toasted coconut or don't much care for cilantro. The balance is important, but it changes from salad to salad and from person to person. Go find yours.

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Yam Som-O: Thai Pomelo SaladCobbled together from multiple sources and lots of trial and error Serves 2

For the salad: 1 pomelo, peeled, individual segments removed from their membranes and broken into a few pieces - about 3 cups of fruit total 6 tablespoons toasted coconut (toasted in a 350-degree oven for 8 minutes, until golden brown) 1/4 cup toasted peanuts, roughly chopped 1/4 cup mint, roughly chopped 1/3 cup cilantro, roughly chopped 3 shallots, peeled and thinly sliced (about 1/4 cup total) 3 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced (about 2 tablespoons) 1/3 cup peanut oil or other oil with high smoking point (grapeseed, sunflower, and safflower all work)

For the dressing (you'll have extra):

4 tablespoons coconut milk 2 tablespoons fish sauce (can replace with 1 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce, but start slow! some brands of soy sauce are very salty and you don't want to overdo it) 2 tablespoons lime juice 3 tablespoons tamarind puree 1 tablespoon palm sugar (or substitute light brown sugar) 1 tablespoon roasted chile paste (nam prik pao if you can find it, any chile paste if you can't; make sure you add it slowly if you haven't used it before)

Heat the oil in a small saucepan over medium heat and set a paper towel onto a large plate. You want the oil hot, but not too hot. If it shimmers, turn down the heat a bit. Add shallots, and cook until light to medium brown, about 8 minutes. If shallots sizzle when you drop them into the pan, turn down the heat immediately to prevent shallots from burning. Toward the end of the cooking, watch carefully: shallots go from lightly toasted to burnt very quickly.

Use a slotted spoon to remove shallots from the oil and transfer them to the towel-lined plate. Repeat with garlic slices, which cook even more quickly. Set aside. (Any shallots and garlic that you don't use in this salad will keep in a sealed plastic container for about a week.)

Combine the dressing ingredients in a jar and shake vigorously until sugar dissolves. Taste and adjust, adding more lime, sugar, tamarind, soy/fish sauce, or chile as needed. Set aside.

Combine the salad ingredients in a large bowl, or apportion them onto individual plates. Top with some of the fried shallots and garlic. Drizzle dressing overtop, starting with about half of the dressing and adding more as needed.

Serve immediately.

Herb Salad with Dates and Sumac Croutons

Every January, I tell myself I'll eat more salads. The catch: when I'm not saying this with my mouth full of muffin, I'm swearing it in between bites of spaghetti. The cold months make it tough to get it up for leafy greens. Still, I don't back down so easily. I empty my pockets for Next Step Produce's arugula, which is not at all cheap - an insurance policy against wasting the stuff, I guess. I buy good olives and Asian pears, thick, aged balsamic and salty, herby Pecorino. I put all the ingredients in the fridge, nod knowingly. I will make salads. And then, when I get home from a long day at the office where the heat is broken and the air registers a nice comfy 50 DEGREES, I open the fridge, pull out the arugula, the olives and pears, that lovely pecorino, and pile it all on a square of puff pastry for a delightful winter tart that has nothing at all to do with salad. Oops.

For problems like these, dinner parties were created. If a plate of food gets served to company, it better have something fresh. Armed with a shred of dignity (I can't actually serve them all just pasta, can I?), I finish the pureed sweet potatoes and green beans and quiche, take a deep breath, and toss together a salad. I tell myself that people will be warm enough, they will want to eat it. Sometimes, I'm right.

A couple weeks ago I made this number, a riff on a few different salads in Ottolenghi's books Plenty and Jerusalem. Ottolenghi is really big on seasoned croutons (as am I), and in Jerusalem, he really doubles down on them. He's got a bunch of different varieties. My personal favorite (you can see why) combines bits of broken pita, almonds, sumac, and plenty of chile. The mixture is the sort of thing I tend to double, then put on everything I make that week. You can see how croutons this flavorful work as well in salad as they do on a bowl of hot soup...not that I need any other reasons to choose hot food over salad.

I was out of pita the last time I whipped up this salad, so I substituted baguette. I'll tell you, I think the baguette croutons beat out their pita siblings; they were crunchier, and better vehicles for the sumac- and chile-flavored oil. They also contrasted nicely with the almonds.

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Ottolenghi has you pile these sumac croutons on raw spinach, but I'm in the "spinach is a dish best served cooked" camp, so I usually go with arugula or another leafy green. This time, though, I had huge piles of herbs that needed to be used up before we headed out of town. I tore them up, tossed them into a small salad bowl, and made a really lovely salad at the spur of the moment that even this hot-food lover was happy to eat. It came out so good, I served the leftovers for brunch the next day, alongside this pear danish and these migas - my favorite - from Jennifer. Oh, and plenty of bloody marys:

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The croutons made the salad, for sure. But equally important were chopped medjool dates, which manage to be sweet, sticky, and distinctly fruity all at the same time. I highly recommend them in this salad - in any salad, really. My friend Jess wholeheartedly agrees about the whole dates-in-salad thing, and her rendition - with fresh ricotta! - has been on my to-do list for some time.

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So I guess that's the game of salads in winter. They're never going to be the thing I run to eat first, but I've got tricks up my sleeve to make them delicious. Especially alongside a big bowl of spaghetti.

Herb Salad with Dates and Sumac Croutonsinspired by a few recipes from Yotam Ottolenghi in two of my favorite books, Plenty and Jerusalem

For the Croutons: 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 tablespoon butter 1/2 baguette, cut into 1/2-inch cubes or, better yet, ripped into pieces roughly that size 2/3 cup sliced almonds 2 teaspoons sumac 2 teaspoons Turkish or Syrian chile flakes, or other flavorful chile flakes (mild paprika will do in a pinch) 1 teaspoon salt, to taste 1 clove garlic, smashed

For the Salad: 8 dates, pitted and sliced 1 small red onion (or half a medium one), halved and sliced into thin rings 1 tablespoon white wine, champagne, or other mild vinegar 1 bunch (2 cups) dill, roughly chopped 1 bunch (2-3 cups) parsley leaves and chopped stems 1 bunch (1-2 cups) mint leaves zest and juice of one lemon, to taste 2 tablespoons olive oil salt and pepper

In a small bowl, combine dates, onion slices, and vinegar. Set aside to marinate while you make the croutons. By the time you're ready to make the salad, the vinegar will have been absorbed. If not, pour out whatever remains (or add it to a sauce - it'd be pretty delicious).

In a large shallow frying pan, heat the butter and olive oil over medium heat. Add garlic; it should sizzle when it hits the pan. Add baguette pieces and almonds, stir to coat with oil, and then add chile and sumac and stir to combine. Cook for 4-6 minutes, until bread and almonds have browned and everything smells wonderfully fragrant. Transfer crouton mixture to a bowl, and sprinkle salt overtop, starting with 1/2 teaspoon and adding more to taste. Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, combine herbs, dates, onions, and croutons, by the handful, until the balance of green to crunch looks right. Save whatever you don't use for a meal later in the week; these croutons make everything taste good.

Before serving, whisk together lemon zest, lemon juice, and remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste (but remember that croutons have salt of their own, so go light on the salt). Dress salad, toss to combine, and serve.

Vietnamese Roasted Leek and Eggplant Salad

Perhaps I'm the only one who stresses about these things, but I've been away from the blog for some time. Actually, I've been away from the kitchen for some time. October has been a busy month for me at work, and getting a big project out the door meant fewer of those fall nights where my slippered feet pad into the kitchen searching for something to cook. Now that the project is finished, I'll be on the road a fair amount across the next couple months, presenting the research to hungry executive teams. If only they were hungry for pie.

In months like these, I browse recipes and write shopping lists on the tail ends of plane flights, wrack my brain to remember what's in all those jars in my fridge, and just try my best to squeeze a few home-cooked meals in between trips.

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Still, weekends exist for a reason. Once I have a to-do list in order, I'm up and at 'em, cooking as many dishes as I can without exhausting myself and spoiling the fun. This past weekend, after a quick trip to the gym, I got Vietnamese chicken stock blurp-blurping away on the stove, mixed up the dough for Luisa's yeasted plum cake and left it to rise, and then got going on today's recipe, a spicy-sour-salty-sweet eggplant and leek salad that will leave you wishing you were coming with me to Vietnam in December. (!)

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That's right: we're heading to Southeast Asia this winter. I'm doing my best not to jump out the screen and shake you, but people, I am excited. And while one member of this household would like to preserve her appetite for Vietnamese and Thai food until we actually arrive, that's not how I roll. Gearing up means cooking the food we'll be eating - or some riff on it - so that by the time we arrive, I'm all primed and ready for the real deal. D told me that we'll be watching The Bridge on the River Kwai to prep, which - hmm, not on my list of movies I must see? I fear I've just lost important points with my father-in-law - but I will do it. I will watch that movie. And D can count on eating lots of fish sauce this month.

Hate fish sauce? Don't worry; today's recipe doesn't call for it.

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I first saw the recipe for this salad in the Times, and -- I kid you not -- was so charmed by it that I clicked right over to Amazon and bought the book from which it came. That book is Vietnamese Home Cooking, and it's easily the best impulse-buy of the month (though, had this been an impulse-buy and not an eagerly anticipated purchase, we'd have a tighter race on our hands. More about that another time.)

The man behind Vietnamese Home Cooking is Charles Phan, chef at The Slanted Door in San Francisco (which quite possibly is the first place I ever experienced authentic Vietnamese food. Went once, never turned back.) Phan waited more than a decade to write this book, and I'm glad to finally have his recipes and stories in print. The book is organized by cooking method, and it has helpful chapter markers running along the side of each page. Scattered throughout the book in little blue boxes are recipes for key components of many Vietnamese dishes, like pickled carrots, crispy shallots, and nuoc mam. If you closed your eyes and chose three pages from the book at random, then made whatever was on those pages, you'd wind up with a pretty awesome dinner. Like I said, a great purchase.

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So, the salad. The version that appears in Phan's book looks slippery and soft and perhaps even a bit mushy, in that good way that eggplant gets if you leave it in the oven forever. The Times' edited version makes for faster prep, and I've made my own changes on top of those, to add in more textural contrast and to utilize regular globe eggplants instead of the baby eggplants that are all but gone from the market these days. I also couldn't find baby leeks, so I used regular leeks and cooked them longer. The result is truly memorable. It's spicy and crunchy and sour and a bit sweet, but not cloying. And even though the only greens are a sprinkle of cilantro, the salad tastes really fresh. Go ahead: make a double batch. Serve half today, store the rest in individual containers and mix it right before tomorrow's lunch.

Vietnamese Roasted Eggplant and Leek Salad

This recipe initially called for baby leeks, but I couldn't find them, so I bought the thinnest leeks I could find and cooked them for a bit longer. I also used regular ordinary eggplant, because the small ones were gone. Use whichever suits your fancy.

Last thing: fried shallots. Not essential, but delicious. You can either buy them at an Asian grocery store, or you can -- you know -- fry 2 sliced shallots in a whole lot (1 cup) of peanut oil just until browned, then strain and set aside on a paper towel until ready to use.

1/4 cup soy sauce 1/4 cup sugar 1/4 cup water 1 tablespoon white vinegar 1 tablespoon Vietnamese chili-garlic sauce or sriracha 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice 1/4 cup olive or peanut oil 1 to 1 1/5 lbs. leeks (about 4), the thinner the better 1 2-lb. globe eggplant salt and pepper 1 1/2 cups loosely packed cilantro leaves, roughly chopped 1/4 cup chopped roasted peanuts 2 tablespoons fried shallots, optional

First, make the dressing: Combine soy sauce, sugar, water, vinegar, chili sauce, and lime juice in a jar. Seal and shake vigorously for about 60 seconds to help the sugar dissolve. Set aside, and shake from time to time as you proceed with the rest of the dish.

Heat the oven to 450 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or silpat.

Next, roast the leeks:Trim the root ends of the leeks as minimally as possible, and cut off the dark green tops. Slice the leeks lengthwise in half, and rinse each half under running water to loosen and remove any grit between the layers. As you rinse them, take care to keep the leeks intact. Place them cut-side down on the lined baking sheet in a single layer. Drizzle 2 tablespoons olive oil over the leeks, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for 12 minutes, then carefully turn the leeks over using tongs or a spatula and roast for 12 minutes cut-side up. The leeks should be charred in spots and very soft. Transfer the leeks to a plate, cover with plastic wrap, and set aside to soften further.

Prep and roast the eggplant: Rinse the cutting board to rid any grit from the leeks. Trim stems off eggplant, and cut into half-inch slices. Cut each slice into half-inch strips, and cut these strips into 1/2-inch cubes. Distribute eggplant on lined pan in a single layer, drizzle with remaining 2 tablespoons oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and roast for about 20-25 minutes, turning pieces once, until soft and charred in spots.

Assemble salad: Transfer warm, softened leeks to the cutting board and chop into 1-inch pieces. Put eggplant and leeks into a shallow serving dish or bowl and use your fingers to incorporate gently. Sprinkle cilantro, peanuts, and shallots (if using) over vegetables, and drizzle half of dressing overtop. Taste and add more dressing as necessary. Serve immediately.

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.