Cucumber-Avocado Soup

No food-friendly home is without its strange culinary rituals, and mine is no exception. Just ask a recent house guest, who during her 3-day stay caught me in the kitchen before 7 am in wet hair and a bathrobe on two separate occasions, cooking not eggs and toast as the normal people do, but strawberry-chili jam and walnut chocolate chip cookies. I like making elaborate things early in the morning; I'm a total weirdo.

Take another odd ritual in chez NDP: when summer rolls around, I start awkwardly hoarding empty yogurt tubs, filling them as quickly as possible with all sorts of cold summer soups: white gazpacho and chilled corn soup and more. Why I can't use tupperware like the rest of earthlings, I don't know. All I know is that cold soup ladled from recycled yogurt tubs on a hot and humid summer day makes me grin big.

Here, then, is my first chilled soup of the summer, one that has already made its (very temporary) home in a yogurt tub. It's inspired by a soup my friend Beth made last weekend, which was creamy and smooth, yet seemed almost whipped, it was so light and airy. The key, of course, is to make it in a blender. Its ingredients are few -- cucumbers and avocado, yogurt and jalapeno, perhaps some chives -- but bowls of the stuff would be lovely garnished with any number of things. I've done yogurt and more chopped chives, and I'm particularly excited about topping my next bowl with some quartered cherry tomatoes.

Chilled soup provides such easy reprieve from the heat, I'll be making it regularly through August. Stay tuned for more recipes, and as always, feel free to share your own in the comments!

Cucumber Avocado Soup serves 4-6

2 avocados, preferably Hass, halved and roughly chopped 1 English (seedless) long cucumber, halved lengthwise and sliced coarsely 1 jalapeno pepper, chopped (with seeds), more to taste 1 cup yogurt (I used greek, but any will do) salt and pepper to taste 5-6 fresh chives, chopped

Combine all ingredients in a blender, starting with just half of the jalapeno and reserving 2-3 sprigs chives and 1/4 cup yogurt for garnish. Add 1/8 cup water to get the blending started, then blend on medium until completely smooth. Taste, and add salt, pepper, and more jalapeno to taste.

Refrigerate at least 1 hour.

To serve, fill bowls and garnish with yogurt, chives, chopped cherry tomatoes, or anything else that suits your fancy.

Mediterranean Chickpea Salad

It's Memorial Day weekend, and barbeque is king. No doubt you've seen more than enough burger recipes in the past 48 hours; don't worry, that's not what I'm sharing today. No, no. I'm here for the vegetarians and the newly-minted lessmeatarians. Let's make sure they (um, we) are well cared for this holiday weekend. And, while there are approximately several thousand potluck-friendly vegetarian recipes, another never hurts. Because we all know Monday's side dishes will be Tuesday's tupperware lunch and Wednesday's leftover dinner. So let's make'em good, shall we?

If you make nothing else this weekend, you'll be in great shape with this chickpea salad. It is dead simple to make, people. Embarrassingly so. I soaked and cooked fresh chickpeas, but if we're being perfectly honest, there's no need to go to all the fuss. Canned are absolutely fine here. And I know I often say what follows, but that's because it's true: this recipe is by no means set in stone. It can be altered in any number of ways, a few of which I list here. Don't get hung up if you're missing one or two of the ingredients. Green garlic can swap out for regular garlic, scallions for red onions, cumin seeds for the ground stuff, anardana for sumac, and now I'll stop listing. If all you've got is chickpeas, cumin, feta, and lemon juice, you're 90% of the way there. And while I'm sure tomatoes would be great in this salad the first time around, I really can't stand them once their refrigerated, as leftovers always are, so I've left them out. Feel free to add them back in, if you'd like. If you're cooking vegetarians, lessmeatarians, or plain ole' people who can't eat just burgers for 48 hours straight (yes, I recognize that that's not an all-inclusive category), I guarantee this chickpea salad will please across the board.

Also, because this should never go without saying: let's all take a couple moments this weekend to recognize those who have given their time, their energy, and their lives in service to our country. Our freedom owes in no small measure to their sacrifices. Say thanks with words, say thanks with chickpea salad; either way, let's all show our gratitude.

Mediterranean Chickpea Salad heavily adapted from a recipe in the New York Times

1 pound chickpeas, soaked and cooked; if using canned, rinse 1 large red bell pepper, cored, seeded, and coarsely chopped 2 scallions, chopped (can substitute1/4 red onion, chopped) 1/4 cup small kalamata or greek olives, halved (optional) 1 medium-sized hunk (about 4 ounces) feta cheese, cubed a handful various herbs, roughly chopped (I used thyme, tarragon, mint, and dill; basil and parsley would also be great)

juice and zest 1 lemon 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar (can substitute balsamic) 1 bulb and stem of green garlic, chopped (can substitute 1 clove regular garlic, chopped) 1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds, toasted in a dry pan over medium heat until fragrant (can substitute 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin) 1/2 teaspoon anardana powder (dried crushed pomegranate seed; can substitute 1/2 teaspoon sumac) 2 tablespoons yogurt salt and pepper to taste

In a medium serving bowl, combine chickpeas, pepper, onion, olives, feta, and herbs. In a small mixing bowl, combine lemon, red wine vinegar, green garlic, cumin seeds, anardana, and yogurt. Mix with a fork until combined. Add salt and pepper to taste. Pour dressing over salad and mix to distribute. Serve. (Salad will keep for several days.)

A Corn Soup for Summer or Winter

First, dear readers, a housekeeping item. The spot of press that I've gotten over the past couple months was truly unexpected; I've spent a couple years in this here little corner of the web, so when people started to take notice, I wasn't quite prepared. But as of yesterday, I've got a shiny new press page that shares links to places where NDP has gotten publicity, so that a) I don't forget about where the blog has been profiled -- I'm a bit forgetful -- and b) I can share the good news with you, my wonderful readers and chearleaders. Thanks in advance for checking it out!

Now onward and upward, because I've been meaning to tell you about this soup for months.

Frozen corn isn't exactly a staple in this house. We've got corn on the cob coming out of our ears (hehe), a freezer door full of six or seven different kinds of polenta, fancy heirloom hominy, and copious amounts of popcorn. But frozen corn rarely makes it through the door.

All that's changed, though. In the past couple months, I've made variations on this soup at least four times. It's a simple concept, really. Shallots are sauteed in butter (game over), corn and broth are added with plenty of good spices, and after a long 10 minutes on the stove, the soup is cooled, blended, and finished with buttermilk. Done.

But oh, you know me. I'm not one to leave a recipe alone. I've always got to tinker. So I tried adding coconut milk instead of buttermilk, for a Thai-inspired version. Then I added half coconut milk and half buttermilk (the perfect balance, if you ask me). I tried it with chicken broth and vegetable broth; I even tried it with plain water. (Not bad at all.) All said and done, it's pretty hard to go wrong with this soup. The weather hasn't even turned miserably hot, and already, it's a staple.

But by the way, don't wait for summer to make this, because truly truly, it's great both hot and cold. No excuses: make this one now.

Corn Soup With Curry and Mint adapted from F for Food's recipe on Food52

30 g shallot (about 2), chopped 2 tablespoons butter 1/2 teaspoon ground coriander 3 tiny dried red chilies, de-stemmed 1/4 teaspoon ground yellow mustardseed 1/2 teaspoon curry powder 1 teaspoon dried mint 1 tablespoon salt 10 ounces frozen corn (no need to thaw) 3 cups vegetable or chicken broth (I actually preferred vegetable) 1 cup coconut milk 1/2 cup buttermilk (feel free to substitute all buttermilk or all coconut milk, if you prefer) several baby leaves fresh mint, for garnish 1/4 cup creme fraiche, for garnish, optional (when I don't have any on hand, I just swirl in some buttermilk or yogurt)

In a large pot over medium heat, saute shallot in butter until translucent and fragrant, about 5 minutes. Add chilies and all other spices, and salt. Cook about 1 minute, until spices start to release their aromas. Add corn and broth and stir to combine. Turn heat to medium-high, and cook 10-15 minutes. Taste and adjust salt as necessary. Add coconut milk, and stir until combined.

If you have an immersion blender, turn off the heat and blend soup until relatively smooth. If you don't have an immersion blender, transfer the unblended soup to the refrigerator to cool off about 20 minutes, then blend soup in a blender or food processor. Don't skip the cooling step, because hot soup can easily explode out of the blender, and yikes...that would suck.

Taste and adjust seasoning again, remembering that if you're serving the soup cold, the spice and salt will be somewhat muted.

For serving the soup hot: if you blended using an immersion blender, add buttermilk and stir to combine, ladle into bowls, top with a dollop of creme fraiche and a sprig of mint, and serve immediately. If you had to let the soup cool before blending it, reheat, then follow above instructions.

For serving the soup cold: add buttermilk, blend or stir to combine, and refrigerate soup. Follow the same serving instructions as above. Soup may thicken once chilled, so add water or broth to thin out as necessary.

Peas with Leeks and Tarragon

This isn't the recipe I planned to share with you today. There's a recipe for a cookie that I absolutely adore, that I was sure I posted last July. Thing is, I've been searching and searching for it on this site, but it seems either to have gone missing or to have never been posted. I'm still totally confused about where it's gone, but I'm getting to the bottom of this and will post the recipe later this week...so stay tuned.

In the meantime, peas, anyone?

Fresh peas a staple of springtime, on the menus of every restaurant in the city, and when they're really fresh, they're amazing. But I mean really fresh. Like, 1 day old or less. Sometimes, you get a lucky batch of pods, and the peas inside are small and young enough that they never take on that starchy texture or lose their sweet, clean flavor. But generally, fresh peas are hit-or-miss if you buy 'em more than a couple days out. That's why this recipe calls for frozen peas (*collective sigh of relief*).

Traditional partners for peas include mint, which I adore, and tarragon, which is a relatively new friend of mine. Tarragon is incredibly intense. It smells of a cross between fennel, anise, and basil. And it ain't messin' around -- so use it sparingly. For 2 pounds of peas, I used between 1/2 and 1 teaspoon of chopped tarragon. Start small, and only add if you really can't taste it. Trust me...you'll know if it's there.

Also, a word about leek confit, which you'll make as the basis of this dish: it's a gift to mankind. It makes everything taste good, from rice to chicken to hell, some plain ricotta. Think of it as next-generation caramelized onions. And then go play around.

Peas with Leeks and Tarragon serves 6

2 large leeks 3 tablespoons butter 1 tablespoon olive oil 1-2 pounds frozen peas 1/2-1 teaspoon tarragon salt and pepper

Slice leeks lengthwise into quarters, then slice crosswise into small pieces. Transfer leeks to a strainer and rinse carefully, making sure all the dirt comes out. Leeks are often covered in dirt, and cleaning them already chopped is definitely the easiest way.

Shake leeks dry. In a large saute pan over medium heat, melt butter with olive oil. Add leeks, and cook, stirring occasionally, until they start to soften and get pale. Turn heat down to medium-low and continue to cook until leeks have really softened and some have turned golden, about 20 minutes. Add a pinch or two of salt.

When leeks are very soft, add peas, still frozen is fine. Cook until peas are warmed through, stirring regularly to make sure heat gets evenly distributed. If too much liquid collects in the bottom of the pan, turn heat back up to medium to boil it off. When peas are warm and liquid has been mostly reduced, add tarragon and stir through. Taste, then adjust for tarragon and salt levels. Finish with a couple grinds of black pepper, and serve immediately.

If you want to serve these as an appetizer, toast some slices of baguette; smear them with some good ricotta; and smash some of the peas overtop.