The Shuk

The central attraction of the downtown area is, without a doubt, the shuk, or the open-air market. Occupying two long square blocks, it has everything you could possibly want, from fresh fruit and vegetables to prepared foods to hundreds of kinds of cheese to fresh-squeezed juice to full-service cafes and restaurants...and more. It's one of my favorite places in all of Jerusalem, and I make a point to come at least once or twice every time I'm here.

The produce at the shuk alone makes it worth the trip. Fruit and vegetables of every variety are available and shockingly affordable prices. You know those Middle Eastern cucumbers that cost $3 or $4/lb at your local farmers market? It'd be difficult to spend $2 on them here: they cost about 75 cents/kilo, or about 35 cents/pound. Aside from the prices, the variety is refreshing. It's not everywhere that you can get beautiful red tomatoes and even strawberries (!) in December. For those with an exotic streak, there are also sabras (mild-tasting fruit with hot pink exterior and innards ranging from white to purple), pumelos (a cross between a grapefruit, a lemon, and an orange with a hefty pith, a light yellow tint, and a sweet, tart flavor) and many other things.

Smack in the middle of the shuk's indoor strip is my favorite cheese shop. It's perpetually swarming with people angling for their tub of fresh ricotta, goat feta, Bulgarian cheese or labne (a thick, tangy yogurt). And in addition to the over 20 kinds of fresh cheese, the stand also has an unusually large assortment of imported cheeses, which can be hard to find in Jerusalem. Next door, the same folks own a meat stand, where they sell great hummus, meat cigars, and kubbeh (fried semolina dumplings stuffed with ground meat), as well as an assortment of ready-to-eat main dishes and sides. The fun never ends.

The spices! How could I forget the spices? Truthfully, the spice stands are hard to miss, a real stand-out with their mountainous piles of vividly-colored spices: the crimson paprika, the dark brick sumac, the bright orange tumeric and the oh-so-fragrant cumin. In addition to individual spices, these stands offer several blends, including my all-time favorite hawaij, made of cumin, coriander, cardamom, cloves, tumeric, and black pepper. They also have mixes of toasted nuts, dried onions, and various spices that are meant for sprinkling on salads or soup or cooking into rice.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the pastries. Pe'er (my personal favorite) excels at making sweet, delicious challah; Marzipan (the tourist hotspot) makes rugelach filled with chocolate or cinnamon-sugar, the pastry so hot and soft it practically unravels in your hand. There are vendors

There are the guys that do everything. At one end of the indoor strip, there's a vendor that makes phenomenal, smoking-hot pita, and sells anything you'd stuff it with, including olives, pickles, hummus and tehina, and a large variety of sauces. He also has a full-service station of meat side dishes, in case pita and fillings aren't enough. Then there are the guys that sell only one thing and aim to make it perfect: about halfway down the indoor strip, there's a stall devoted exclusively to selling halva, that sweet, pasty sesame treat. They sell about a dozen flavors of the stuff, including regular, chocolate, vanilla mocha swirl, black sesame, and more. If you're lucky, they'll be doling out samples as you walk by.

All that shopping can make a person pretty exhausted. That's why there are several cafes inside the shuk, where shoppers and browsers can take some down time and mull over a cappuccino. My favorite is Mizrachi, tucked inside a little corner of the indoor shuk. It's a hotspot on Fridays, when everyone and their mother (literally) is doing some shopping. With good reason: Mizrachi not only makes a great cappuccino and a delicious "toast" (basically a panini), but it sells high-quality chocolate and coffee and selected funky kitchen supplies as well. It provides the perfect respite from the shuk's fast pace and large crowds.

That said, if all else fails, you're totally pooped, and need to get out of the madness, head north on Agrippas street. A few blocks down on your right, you'll find one of my favorite Jerusalem restaurants -- Morduch -- and one of my all-time favorite Middle Eastern foods: Kubeh Chamusta soup. But that, my friends, is a subject for another post. Stay tuned.

Getaway Sour Cherry Pie

The dog days of August are no time to hang out in DC. That's why D and I spent the first week of the month with her parents in Douglas, MI, a beach town on the eastern side of Lake Michigan, where every day is 75 and sunny and there's a constant breeze rippling through the air. If I didn't have east coast blood in my veins, I'd have been so swept away by the perfect Michigan summer weather that I might have packed up my things and moved.

Our cottage in Douglas was downright luxurious. The beds were plush, the couches were comfy, and there was a beautiful patio out back that was perfect for a lazy afternoon of reading, eating, and gazing aimlessly into the sky.

There was a grill, too -- a brand new grill that the owner generously bought after we inquired. Needless to say, kabobs and grilled chicken were in order.

Our days effortlessly took on a routine. In the morning, we moseyed onto the patio for some coffee and our first glimpse of sun. K and I alternated on breakfast duty -- I cooked a batch of blueberry buttermilk pancakes one morning, she made buttery biscuits the next. Some mornings, we stayed on the lighter side and spooned out some yogurt and berries. D and I lazed around until breakfast was ready, then took clean-up duty once our stomachs were full.

The rest of the midday was spent, as beautiful Michigan lakeside days should be, at the beach. With fresh water, pristine sand, and not a cloud in the sky, it's hard to imagine a more perfect way to spend a few hours. It took a couple days to actually unwind from the craziness of life at home, but once the shoulder muscles relaxed, I got into a steady groove of reading and dozing that's the linchpin of any vacation. By the time the week was done, I'd finished two fabulous books: The Glass Castle, a grim but brave memoir by Jeanette Walls about her impoverished but adventurous childhood, and The History of Love, a complicated but artfully woven story about an old man, an awkward teenager, and their pursuit of a manuscript with a storied past.

We spent a couple afternoons wandering around Douglas, a tiny little artists' town with galleries galore, and the neighboring Saugatuck, a slightly larger and more touristy version of the same. We only needed an hour or so to hit every gallery on the main drag, but we bought a pretty vase for M and a pair of funky earrings for K as a thank-you for having us.

Evenings were spent either grilling at home or trying some of Douglas's restaurants, specifically the Everyday People Cafe and Wild Dog Cafe, both of which are favorites among the locals. Needless to say, we left both utterly stuffed and happy.

Before we knew it, it was time to head home. Vacations can't last forever. This one, however, ended particularly abruptly, as I pulled a 15-hour day my first day back at the office. Turns out, this month is only going to get uglier. Work is just so much busier than I'd anticipated it would be, and alas, that means that NDP may find itself neglected as we head into September. If the light goes on in my kitchen, I'll do my best to share whatever's getting made with you all. Meanwhile, I'm just gonna keep my head down and do my best to survive the next 3+ weeks; wish me luck, and I'll be back as soon the research is done.

I leave you with a recipe for sour cherry pie, which for me is the sheer essence of summer. As you may have guessed, I wait for the day that sour cherries hit the market. In smokin-hot DC, the season is just a couple weeks; fortunately, Michigan's perfect weather means the season lasts a couple months. Before heading for Douglas, K and I went to the Royal Oak farmers' market and got 2 quarts of the red jewels, which I immediately earmarked for pie. When I served up this dessert in Douglas, no one was complaining. No one was talking, really. After all, mouths were full of tart cherries, flaky pie crust and full-on vanilla ice cream.

If you're lucky enough to have sour cherries where you are, make this pronto. If not, frozen cherries will also work.

Sour Cherry Pie adapted from Martha Stewart

2 quarts fresh or 4 cups frozen sour cherries, defrosted until easily separated 1 cup sugar 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling out dough 3 tablespoons cornstarch Juice and grated rind of 1/2 lemon 1 large egg, lightly beaten pinch salt flaky or rock sugar, optional 1 recipe pie crust (I use this one from Deb at Smitten Kitchen)

Directions

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. In a medium bowl, combine cherries, sugar, flour, cornstarch, salt, lemon juice, and zest.

On a lightly floured surface, roll one disk of dough into a 12-inch round, about 1/8-inch-thick. Fit into a 9-inch pie dish. Let edges hang over sides of dish. Brush beaten egg on all but overhanging parts. Pour in cherry filling. Roll second disk of dough into a 12-inch round. Folding the dough into quarters for easy transport, lay over filling. Trim edges to 1-inch, and seal by crimping edges with thumb and forefinger. Brush with remaining egg. Place on a parchment lined baking sheet. Sprinkle with rock/flake sugar if using.

Bake for 10 minutes. Reduce temperature to 400 degrees. and bake until golden brown and juices are bubbling, 40 to 50 minutes more. Remove from oven, and let cool for at least 1/2 an hour before serving.

Wisdom: How to Build a Cheeseplate

When summer rolls around, the heat in Washington DC can be rather prohibitive. Almost nothing is worth touching that oven dial, especially in our loft apartment that gets a whole lot of hot air and nary a breeze. Dinner most frequently comprises an easy salad like this broccoli slaw or this Mediterranean orzo salad, or maybe even a cold soup like this quick-and-easy zucchini number I made last summer. Tie that all together with some crusty bread and I've got an easy supper.

Salads and cold soups are definitely an antidote to the heat and humidity, but when the weather is so debilitating that I want to just crash when I get home, a cheeseplate is really the way to go. Cheeseplates are easy to assemble but elegant enough for company, and while people seem to think they go best with red wine, I've found (and had more authoritative sources corroborate) that a chilled (but not too chilled) glass of white wine makes even better company.

Recently, I was reading a great post from Mr. Amateur Gourmet, Adam Roberts, about his trip to the famed Murray's Cheese in Greenwich Village and his quest for the perfect cheese plate. He asked the man behind the counter for help selecting his cheeses, and the man gave him a mild but interesting goat cheese, a sharper cow-and-sheep cheese, and a stinky washed rind cheese. Lost yet? Don't despair. You can do as Adam did -- and as I often do -- and ask the advice of the person behind the counter. My favorite cheese spots here in DC are the wonderful Cowgirl Creamery, where cheese nerds come to play, and Calvert Woodley, which has a great selection and some really helpful folks behind the counter. That said, even the folks at Whole Foods can help steer you in the right direction. Meanwhile, whether you're enlisting a team of advisers or going at this alone, there are a few basic things that are helpful to know before embarking on your cheeseplate expedition. This post will shed some light on how to build a cheese plate, how to cut and serve each of the cheeses, and what sorts of breads and spreads make the best vehicles and complements for enjoying the cheese.

CHOOSING YOUR CHEESE When building a cheese plate, one good guiding principle is that the plate should reflect a range of funk, hardness and origins. There's nothing wrong with a plate composed entirely of cow's milk cheese, but having a variety is a good place to start.

I usually like to have at least one goat cheese on the plate. Sometimes I pick something spreadable, perhaps with herbs. Other times, I choose a harder, semi-aged goat cheese, like Bucheron, or one of my all-time favorite goat milk cheeses, Humboldt Fog. Humboldt Fog is made by Cypress Grove Chevre, and it's got a beautiful layer of ash running through the middle of the cheese. It's also got three distinct layers: the cakey interior, the creamier outer layer, and the rind. It's a wonderful cheese.

I'm not a big sheep milk cheese person, but I really enjoy Manchego and Idiazabal, both Spanish sheeps' milk cheese. Manchego is salty and robust; Idiazabal is grassier, but really complex. Both are good options, and both will be harder than most goats' milk cheeses.

Other types of Cheese:

Blue Cheese, which is cheese laced with (delicious) bluish mold. Blue cheeses are pungent, sometimes even a bit spicy, and strong. Some are quite salty, others on the sweeter side. A couple of my favorites are Fourme D'Ambert, which is creamy and rich, and Rogue Creamery Rogue River Blue, which is wrapped in grape leaves and is uber smoky and delicious.

Bloomy cheeses, which are covered in a white, slightly damp rind. Bloomy rinded cheese tends to be soft, and ranges from the chalky goat-cheese consistency to the unbeatable richness of triple cream cheese.

Washed rinds, which are, as the name suggest, washed in any number of liquids including but not limited to water. Washed rind cheese can be quite funky. One of my favorite washed rind cheeses is Epoisses, which is salty and pretty runny, but also has a sort of funky sweet-smokiness to it. I find it absolutely addictive.

One last shout-out to one of my other favorite cheeses, Cowgirl Creamery Mt. Tam. It's a triple cream cheese that's got a thick, creamy texture and an endless array of wonderful aromas. It's won lots of awards, and it's truly a phenomenal cheese.

If even after trying them you're hesitant to invest in a big hunk, try the "cheese treasures" section. They tend to have sections like it at Whole Foods as well as major cheese stores (and I know that the Calvery Woodley here in DC has one, too). Usually buried somewhere in the corner of the display case (as all treasures should be), there'll be a pile of cheese nubs, usually the bits of whatever cheese was killed that day. It's a great place to experiment, and at only a couple of bucks per piece, it's hard to go too far astray.

PLATING AND SERVING YOUR CHEESE

Plate your cheese in order from mildest to most stinky. Theoretically, you should eat the cheeses in this order as well, though after trying an initial round of bites in the correct succession, I tend to take bites of this or that in no particular order, using a glass of wine as a palate cleanser.

For hard cheeses, use a slicer that'll take off shavings of the cheese. If you have a big hunk of hard cheese, you won't enjoy it nearly as much as when your slice of baguette cushions several paper-thin slices.

Serve softer cheeses with cheese knives -- those blunt-bladed stubby ones that can spread just about anything. Also put out some spoons for any accompanying chutneys, jams, or pastes.

TO ACCOMPANY YOUR CHEESE

Most people seem to serve cheese plates with crackers, since they're easy to serve, easy to eat one-handed, and come in a variety of flavors. However, most cheese experts say that a classic baguette is actually the way to go; its flavor, while pronounced, is more neutral than crackers, and thus serves as a prime vehicle for tasting the true flavor of the cheese. I eat cheese most often on baguette, but every once in a while, I enjoy a crispy cracker (especially those rainforest crisps from Whole Foods -- they're like biscotti, with bits of dried figs or cranberries and some nuts too). Best solution? Serve both. See for yourself which goes first.

In terms of condiments, everyone's got their favorites, and I'm no exception. For Manchego or Idiazabal, I like a nice hunk of Membrillo, the delightfully sweet-tart and thicker-than-jam quince paste. Mitica is my favorite brand: it's homemade and fresh-tasting. It might look like a lot for just a cheese plate, but buy yourself some and I guarantee you'll find ways to use it. Plus, it lasts in the fridge for months.

For creamy, runny, nosey cheeses, I like a jam or compote that can stand up. Fig jam is my standby, but I'll settle for something else in a pinch. Nothing too fruity though -- strawberry jam will kill the cheese with its overpowering sweetness.

Goat cheese goes well with any number of things, from sweet to savory. Tomatoes, capers, olives, and pesto are all good savory choices; for something sweet, try a tomato or pepper jam, a chutney, or even a drizzle of date honey.

I hope this list is a good beginner's guide, but please don't let it be restrictive. The last time I was at Cowgirl, one of the women behind the counter was helping me out, slicing tastes of this or that as I poked around. Suddenly, she had some sort of lightbulb moment and ran to the back of the shop. She came back carrying a massive (think a yard wide) half-wheel of what she described as the best cheese she's ever had. It was a Basque cheese, handmade by a husband-and-wife team, and wrapped in all sorts of fresh and dried herbs, including bay leaves and various peppercorns. The cheese was firm, pale whitish yellow, and looked pretty ordinary inside -- but the flavors, WOW, the flavors! It felt creamy and rich, but then it started to open up, and I got herbs, wood, some barnyard-y aromas, then sweetness, a punch of salt, and who even knows what else. I asked for two or three more tries and took home a big hunk with me. The cheese didn't even have a name, so I can't recommend it, but it was really earth-shattering. I'm willing to bet your local cheese shop has something in stock that one of the folks behind the counter is really excited to share. Be sure to take them up on it.

On limiting waste

I dunno about you, but I'm feeling more and more compelled to get a composter. It seems ridiculous that I throw away several pounds of biodegradable stems, peelings, cores, pits, seeds, skins, and rinds, when I could compost them instead. I know that composting in urban environments can be challenging: living as we do in the heart of DC, our access to yard space is limited nonexistent, and we aren't exactly teeming with the space (or money, for that matter) to install one of those large, expensive all-in-one electric composters. That said, the amount of waste that my one household -- a household of two -- can produce in one week is kind of mindblowing. So I'm considering getting a compost tub, just a little guy for the house. One of the biggest lobbyists for this purchase is our friend Matt, who lives with his wife Bryce around the corner from us, and has kindly volunteered to take our compost if we'll drop it off (right, Matt?). I figure, I've got someone to take the stuff, and I've definitely got room for a little bin in my kitchen: now is as good a time as any to stop wasting and start composting. Huzzah!

Composter in hand, I'll stop throwing away the bits of produce that I tend not to use in cooking. But there's another way to think about limiting waste, one that's near and dear to me as a food blogger, and that's making sure to extract as much flavor as possible from the ingredients we buy. Not only is this best practice for maximizing use of the food we buy, it's also a way to ensure that we make the most of our purchases, which in turn can save all of us a little hard-earned dough.

Within the past two days, I've made broth out of the stems of asparagus, cooked a mint-infused simple syrup with the stems and some leaves of a massive mint harvest that the Masseys gave me as a gift, and made an herb pesto with leftover walnuts, going-going-cilantro, and -- you guessed right -- more of those mint leaves. What'll I do with each of these things? I'm not 100% sure, but if you hear that I served herb-encrusted salmon and mint spritzers for Friday night dinner, don't be surprised.

When I make these types of basic components, I store them -- in either the fridge or the freezer -- well-sealed and labeled. I usually note the item, its components, and the date I made it. That way, when I open up my freezer and see frozen rugalach dough from March, I know what to make for weekend dessert. And when I see frozen Bolognese sauce from January, I know what we'll be having for dinner, like, pronto.

Below, I've included the methods for each of the three components I made this week. As you can imagine, the possibilities here are too many to count: switch up the herbs for the ones you've got in your fridge, toss some lemon or lemon zest into the simple syrup for extra zing, and add any and all vegetable scrapings into your stock to make it more complex (and resourceful!). These are truly just a few of the infinite number of possibilities, many of which were noted in Mark Bittman's insightful column about using your freezer as a pantry.

Asparagus Broth

1 lb. Asparagus stems 6 cups water 1 tsp. salt

Bring water and salt to a boil. Add stems (and tips, if blanching for use in another recipe; I actually blanched the parts I was using in a separate batch of water (3 cups), strained them and reserved that water, and then boiled another 3 cups of salted water for the stems. where was I...) and boil for approximately 10-12 minutes, until water is a pale green and stems can be pierced with fork. Strain stems over a large bowl, reserving cooking water. Allow to cool half an hour, then package in tall plastic container and make sure to label with name, ingredients, amount of salt, and date.

Mint-Infused Simple Syrup 1/2 cup sugar 1/2 cup water large handful mint stems and leaves

Bring the water to a boil. Add sugar, and swirl around to dissolve completely. Add mint; remove from heat, and allow to steep at least 30 minutes, preferably overnight. Discard or compost mint, package syrup in small sealable container with clear label. Will keep for several weeks.

Herb Pesto

3-4 heaping cups herb leaves; I used mint and cilantro, but feel free to add parsley, basil, sage, tarragon, marjoram, or any other herb 1/2 cup chopped or whole walnuts large pinch salt, to taste Parmesan or other hard, dry cheese, optional (I didn't use any) 1/2 a lemon, optional (I had one leftover) 3 Tbsp. water olive oil

In a blender, combine herbs, walnuts, salt, lemon juice if using, and water. Blend on medium speed until herbs are chopped into small bits. With the mixer on, pour oil in a steady stream until mixture begins to come together. Stop pouring oil, continuing to blend until the pesto is as emulsified or as chunky as you like it. Taste, and adjust salt if necessary. Store in a sealable container: be sure to leave 1/2 an inch at the top of the container to fill with oil. This will ensure that your pesto stays fresh as long as possible.