Smoky Corn Salad

So sorry that posts have been so few and far between (and so short) lately. I'm doing my best to offer some great summer suggestions between work and work -- bear with me; just two more weeks of this insanity, and I'll be back on track.

Meanwhile, hopefully you're taking advantage of the last of summer's produce more than I am. If you find yourself swimming in corn, this smoky number is a great variation on the corn salad theme. It combines raw corn that's charred in a smoking castiron pan, poblanos that are cooked over an open flame to remove the skins and intensify their flavor, a bit of red onion, and of course, some of those delightfully plump and round cherry tomatoes that are so good this time of year. The method is so simple it's a joke: just char everything in the castiron pan all together, and add the tomatoes just before serving. It's just the way to take advantage of summer's abundance. Have a plate in my honor, and once I crawl out from under this rock, I'll be back in the kitchen in no time.

Smoky Corn Salad

3 ears of corn, husks and fibers removed 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved 1/4 of a red onion, diced 2 poblano peppers 1/2 a jalapeno, diced, optional 1/4 tsp. smoked spanish paprika olive oil salt pepper 1 lime

Roast poblanos over an open flame, turning to blister skin on all sides. When fully blistered, turn off heat and transfer peppers to a paper bag or roll inside tinfoil. let steam for 5 minutes, then run under water to remove skins. Chop roughly and set aside.

Heat castiron or heavy stainless steel pan over high heat. Remove corn from cob, and combine with chopped onions and jalapeno, if using. Add 1 tablespoon olive oil to pan and immediately add corn mixture. Toss to coat, then let sit for a 30 seconds at a time just to develop a real char on the kernels. Add smoked paprika, and add salt to taste. Keep tossing and charring, tossing and charring, until there are enough brown spots to give some serious smoky flavor. Remove from heat, add tomatoes, and toss to combine. Transfer to a plate, and squeeze 1 fresh lime overtop. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Marcella Hazan's Pesto

Basil is aplenty at DC's farmers' markets. This week, my favorite farmer was selling massive bags of the stuff for just $3.99. I probably came home with a good 2 pounds of basil -- hard to imagine considering how light it is. There was only one thing to do: make pesto.

The last time I blogged about pesto, I largely focused on the method. Heidi at 101 Cookbooks had written about making pesto like an Italian grandmother, and I was inspired enough by her post to give the old fashioned knife-on-board method a try. The result was wonderful -- chunky and rustic, with plenty of the irregularity that's the hallmark of handmade things. But given how busy I've been at work lately, standing in the kitchen slaving over chopped basil just wasn't in the cards for today. Instead, I followed the sage advice of another Italian grandmother, Marcella Hazan. I pulled her Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking off the shelf and set about to make pesto using her (apparently sanctioned) food processor method.

Before you roll your eyes and call me a fraud, it's in her book: Pesto, food processor method. Apparently the Italian goddess is fine with it. Plus, if that's not enough evidence for you, I once heard Lynn Rosetto Casper, the formidable chef and host of APM's radio show The Splendid Table, say that if you go to the Liguria region of Italy, to Genoa, where pesto originated, and follow the tips from the locals to the actual neighborhood in Genoa where pesto was actually invented, the Italian grandmothers there use food processors! That was the last time I had a second thought about whizzing the stuff together.

I think Hazan's recipe is the best one I've ever made. The balance between basil, pine nuts, raw, pungent garlic, and Parmigiano Reggiano and Romano cheeses is just teetering in equilibrium. I also used a truly olive-y olive oil that I got on a twitter rec (Aria, available at Whole Foods), which may have made the difference. In any event, it's a recipe I wouldn't hesitate to make again. So hurry out to your market while basil's still available, and try this pesto. It'd even make Marcella proud.

Marcella Hazan's Pesto I doubled the recipe and got about a pint, so this makes about 1/2 a pint

2 cups tightly packed basil leaves 3 tablespoons pine nuts 1/2 cup olive oil 2 garlic cloves, chopped fine before being added to the processor 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese 2 tablespoons grated Romano cheese 3 tablespoons butter, softened

Blend all ingredients except cheese and butter until relatively smooth. Fold in cheese by hand to give that chunky, rustic texture. Fold in softened butter, incorporating it evenly into the pesto.

If freezing, do not add cheese and butter; add to thawed pesto just before serving. Top with a thin layer of olive oil, which will help keep pesto green.

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.

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.