Not So Potato-y Salad

From a vege-mostly-tarian’s perspective, spring and summer are the seasons to beat. Fresh fruit and vegetables are available in abundance, and the variety, especially in summer, is simply unmatched. I make at least one salad a day; using anything from the usual lettuce and Israeli cucumbers to radishes to carrots to tomatoes and nectarines, mushrooms and garlic scapes and beets and even raw kale (my newest addition), I rarely repeat ingredients two days in a row.

It’s in this light that barbeque food confuses the hell out of me; why, when there are so many beautiful fruits and vegetables available, do we resort to coleslaws and potato salads that are literally choking on my gloppy, quivering, nemesis, the devil named Mayo? Those thick, white dressings are a “no, thanks” for me, but if we’re going to use them, why not when we’re on our 20th batch of kale and need to get creative about masking the taste of winter? I simply don’t get the desire to coat delicious summer vegetables in all that goop. …And the Mayo gripes resume.

While I almost always serve a leafy green salad with meals these days, I did buy some really beautiful tiny tomatoes at the Foggy Bottom market last week, which gave me an occasion to reconsider the merits of potato salad. I’m not a huge potato person, but I get the appeal of having a side dish that’s got some starch and substance but isn’t the same old rice or other grain. However, instead of putting the potatoes front and center, I decided to make room for other vegetables to share the limelight. Happily, the market provided many options. I settled on some pattypan, small summer squash that are shaped somewhat like a flying saucer, as well as some nice-looking green beans.

After boiling, shocking, and slicing the potatoes, I sliced and blanched the zucchini. I left the green beans raw, for crunch, and I'm glad I did -- they provided a much-needed contrast to the softer vegetables. I coated the salad in a light, tangy, slightly spicy shallot-mustard vinaigrette, which complemented the slight bitterness of the zucchini and gave otherwise boring potatoes some real character. All in all, this is the type of potato salad I'd actually go for: it highlights summer produce instead of masking it, and its tangy flavors will make a great addition to any barbeque.

Not So Potato-y Salad

1 pound small (like, really small) red and yellow potatoes 2 long summer squash (yellow or green), sliced into 1/2-inch slices 1 pound green beans, halved 2 shallots, diced finely 2 teaspoons coarse dijon mustard 1 teaspoon honey 1/4 cup sherry or white wine vinegar 1/8 cup olive oil 1 teaspoon walnut oil, optional salt and pepper

Boil potatoes in 4 cups water until soft but not mushy, about 10 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove potatoes and transfer to serving bowl. Let cool 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, blanch squash slices in potato water about 2 minutes, just until soft. Drain and run under cold water for a couple seconds to stop cooking. Transfer to serving bowl.

Slice potatoes into rounds, and transfer to serving bowl. Add green beans and toss to mix.

In a small bowl or dressing jar, combine all remaining ingredients except oil. Pour oil in a slow stream, whisking to combine. If using jar, shake vigorously to emulsify. Add dressing to salad and toss about 10 minutes before serving. Serve at room temperature.

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.

Cherry Pistachio Crisp

Dear readers, as you are my witnesses, I'm hereby confessing a minor addiction to sour cherries. After a year-long wait for sour cherry season, I've put up a pitcher of sour cherry liqueur that'll be ready in a few short months (and early tastes have been very, very promising) and I've made a couple pies as well. It seems I can't get quite enough of them. I've even fancied myself the sour cherry connoisseur: when a (rather gruff) farmer declared last Sunday at the market that no one could taste her sour cherries because they're too tart to eat raw, I happily (and loudly) piped up that I eat them raw all the time and had no idea what she was talking about. As you may have guessed, we made fast friends. Needless to say, I scurried right along to the next stand.

After two juicy, bursting weeks of our very short sour cherry season, I'm still high on the cherries, but less excited at the prospect of another pie-dough endeavor. The result is mighty tasty, but it involves just a few too many minutes hovered over the counter piecing together shards of butter-flour and hoping for a semblance of evenness. This time, with a pound of sour cherries in the fridge and an appetite that was burgeoning by the minute, I opted for the easy route: cherry crisp.

You won't see any criticism of crisps on this blog, no siree: D&R are HUGE crisp fans. Apple crisp is practically a weekly staple in our house during winter months, and if you don't blink you can catch one of us -- let's be honest, both of us -- picking the buttery oat clusters off the top as we linger with guests over the end of a dinner party. We're both pretty addicted.

Given the fleeting nature of sour cherry season, I wanted to make a crisp that'd be particularly memorable. Enter Martha Stewart, who had the great idea to include chopped pistachios in the crumble topping. The pistachios add soft, mellow richness that accentuates the sharp, almost shrill tanginess of the sour cherries. It's a lovely combination.

Since I only had a pound of sour cherries, I added to the mix a couple nectarines that were begging to be used. Their softer texture was a welcome contrast to those pearl-like sour cherries and the crunchy pistachio crumble. I'll definitely be making this again. That is, if I can get my hands on some sour cherries...

Sour Cherry Pistachio Crisp adapted from Martha Stewart

• 1 pound pitted fresh or frozen sour cherries • 3/4 pound nectarines, pitted and roughly chopped • 1/2 cup chopped unsalted pistachios • 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose, white whole wheat, or whole wheat pastry flour • 1/3 cup old-fashioned rolled oats • 1/4 teaspoon baking powder • Salt • 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened • 3 tablespoons packed light-brown sugar • 3/4 cup granulated sugar • 3 teaspoons cornstarch • Pinch of ground cinnamon

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 375. If using frozen cherries (though I don't know why you would this time of year), spread them in a single layer on a baking sheet and let stand at room temperature until almost thawed but not mushy, about half an hour. Drain and reserve any accumulated liquid (you can reduce it for a sauce some other time -- too precious to throw away!)

2. Mix pistachios, flour, oats, baking powder, and 1/4 tsp. salt in a medium mixing bowl and set aside. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, mix butter, brown sugar, and 1/4 cup sugar on medium speed until creamy.

3. Add pistachio mixture into butter mixture and mix on medium speed for about ten seconds, until mixture forms small and large crumbs. Set aside.

4. Stir together cherries, the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, and a pinch of salt in a medium bowl until cornstarch coats cherries and sugar has been incorporated. Pour into an 8-inch square baking dish. Sprinkle crumb topping onto cherry mixture, and bake until topping turns golden and cherry juices bubble, about 50 minutes. Let cool at least 15 minutes before serving (Martha recommends an hour, but who can wait that long?) Serve with vanilla ice cream if you have on hand -- it's a whole other ballgame with the creamy vanilla on top.

Andalusian Gazpacho

Please welcome my friend Jeremy, who was bold enough to suggest guest-posting on my blog and kind enough to follow through. He brought over a jar of this gazpacho and when I dunked a spoon in for a taste, I ended up finishing half the jar. It's the perfect summer soup, and I'm thrilled to be featuring it on NDP.

The height of summer means the height of tomato season, and in our house that means gazpacho season. Now, this means different things to different people. Some are partial to a soup that could easily be mistaken for salsa. Others are all about the cucumbers or the bell peppers. I've even heard people refer to a perfectly lovely watermelon soup as gazpacho, though I'd like to think any self-respecting Spaniard would scoff at this. For my money -- and we'll get to how it doesn't need to be a lot of money in a minute -- this easy-to-make gazpacho is the way to go. My spouse and I came upon the basis for this recipe (from Epicurious) some years ago, and over time we've adapted it and turned it into a staple of our summertime repertoire.

All in you're talking about 15 minutes of work for a gazpacho that puts the tomatoes right where they belong: front and center. It's substantial enough with a hunk of fresh baguette to make for a great mid-week meal just sitting at the coffee table. It's refined enough, topped with fresh chives, to lead off a small dinner party. And it's casual enough to serve spoonless in teacups or shot glasses for larger gatherings. It's just about a perfect summer soup, which is why we perpetually have a big jar of it in the fridge until tomatoes go out of season. And did I mention it'll keep for close to a week?

Andalusian Gazpacho

Ingredients 1 2-inch-long piece baguette 3 garlic cloves, or to taste 2 teaspoons salt 2 tablespoons Sherry vinegar, or to taste 1 teaspoon sugar 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin 2 1/2 pounds ripe tomatoes, cored and quartered 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil Garnish: whatever's around, but finely chopped (bell peppers, chives, cucumbers, parsley...)

Thoughts on Ingredients

Fresh baguette is probably best, but in the name of economy, we find this is the perfect place to use any stub that you might have leftover from lunch or shoved in the freezer for whatever reason.

For god's sake, please use fresh garlic. Don't try to substitute powder or any of that crap that comes in jars or wrapped in plastic. The early garlic, out now (or coming soon) to a farmers' market near you, is awesome.

Coarse kosher salt works great.

Don't try to substitute for the Sherry vinegar. We've tried, and the gazpacho doesn't quite pucker the same way without it. Sometimes labeled with the Spanish "vinagre de Jerez," Sherry vinegar can be hard to find at Safeway or Giant or the like, but Whole Foods usually has it. If not, and I hate how snobby this sounds, try Dean & Deluca or Fairway.

Use second tomatoes. You don't need gorgeous, perfect fruit when it's about to hit the bottom of a blender. At our local farmers' market, tomatoes go for $3.50-$4.00 per pound, but seconds are only $1.50, and if you choose wisely (firm with a blemish is fine, borderline rotten is not) finding enough for this recipe should be a cinch). As for variety, we're yet to find one that doesn't work, though I have to admit, I'm partial to the heirlooms later in the season.

Don't bother with a garnish unless it's fresh.

Directions:

Start by soaking the bread in a glass of water for a minute or two, then squeeze it dry and dump the water. The Gourmet recipe calls for trimming the crust, which I do. My spouse doesn't trim the crust, however, and frankly I can't taste much difference nor detect any real change in mouth-feel.

Gourmet tells you to mash garlic to a paste with salt using a mortar and pestle. We just crush the garlic with the side of our chef's knife and then chop it.

Blend the garlic, salt, baguette, vinegar, sugar, cumin, and half the tomatoes. We use a blender, because you're going to want to let the soup chill in a glass container, but a food processor works, too. Blend until the tomatoes are very finely chopped. Add the remaining tomatoes with motor running, and then ever so slowly, pour in the oil in a steady stream, blending until totally smooth. Don't rush -- taking your time with the oil is key to a velvety gazpacho

The garlic takes some time to come to the fore here, but when it does, it kicks, so resist the temptation to overdo. Refrigerate for a few hours, or until cold. Garnish and serve.