Roasted Figs with Turbinado Sugar

Next week is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. We'll have a full house, a fuller fridge, and a freezer stuffed so tight that eeek, please don't open it too quickly. The lamb is cooked, frozen, and ready to go. (Want to make the one we made? It's the best lamb ever and I shared the recipe with The Forward so you can make it, too. Go right ahead.) I also froze two soups -- one's a triple garlic soup from Melissa Clark; the other has teeny, tiny meatballs suspended in a sour, salty broth. It's insanely delicious. I'm hoping to share it with you early next week.

And what about dessert? Well: I've got one last pint of fresh blueberries left in my fridge. wouldn't my guests just love to be served this genius fresh blueberry tart after the big feast? And I've somehow managed to save a handful of the beautiful apricots I got from Randy a couple weeks back. They still look perfect. I wonder if I should work them into some sort of show-stopping finale for the new year?

1-DSC_0579

Maybe not. Let's face it: everyone wants honey cake. Those who don't want honey cake just want apple cake. All the excitement about apricots and blueberries is so last month, I guess.

Apple cake and honey cake are great, don't get me wrong. In fact, last year, I smushed the two together (is that turning into a habit?) and gave you a pretty stellar Apples and Honey Cake. That's the recipe I'll be making again for our new year dinner.

1-DSC_0574

But I'll also be making these roast figs, to serve alongside that old standby of a cake. You should too -- if only to appease those of us who get sad at the thought of blueberries, strawberries, apricots, blackberries, raspberries, and peaches being replaced by just apples. Apples and honey are great, but summer doesn't last forever. It's worth celebrating it while you can.

1-DSC_0624

The original recipe is simple: figs, marsala, turbinado sugar. But if you don't have marsala, you can use madeira, brandy, or even some red wine. Not the same, but equally delicious. Between you and me, I liked madeira best. (If you use red wine, may I suggest Melissa Clark's Red Wine Honey Cake as an accompaniment?) When figs hang out in a hot oven with just the right amount of alcohol and sugar, their flesh gets soft and sticky, maybe a bit caramelized, and wholly irresistible. Set them next to a slice of honey cake, and you can have summer and fall in one bite.

Roasted Figs with Turbinado SugarAdapted from Nigel Slater's Ripe Serves 4 as a small dessert or component thereof

Slater calls for marsala in his original recipe. I liked that combination a lot, but between you and me, I liked madeira -- another fortified wine -- even more. If you don't have either, go ahead and use brandy or straight-up red wine.

8 figs 1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon marsala, madeira, brandy, or red wine 2 tablespoons turbinado sugar (3 tablespoons if using dry marsala or red wine) Heavy cream for serving, optional

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Remove the fig stems. Slice figs one of two ways: either halve them lengthwise, or slice an X about halfway through the length of the fig, and fan the quarters open.

Place figs in a baking dish. Drizzle the marsala over the figs and sprinkle the sugar overtop. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until figs are very tender and their tops have caramelized slightly.

Divide figs among serving bowls and top each with a small spoonful of the now very-reduced cooking liquid. Top with a spoonful or two of cream, if desired. Serve immediately.

Favorite Corn Chowder

I can only assume that many of you hail from the Northeast, which is why I so hesitate to come down on one side of the chowder vs. chowder debate. There's New England, milky and rich, and then there's Manhattan, with a clear broth and plenty of tomatoes. Think Yankees vs. Red Sox: tensions run high.

But I'm not from New York, and I'm not from Boston, either. And ever since that Yankee kid snatched a ball straight from the hands of my Orioles and cost them the 1996 pennant, well, phooey. But I'm a peacemaker at heart. I don't like these silly rivalries. And so, to celebrate the end of summer and the abundance (12 ears!) of corn in my fridge, I'm sharing my favorite chowder recipe, which -- spoiler alert -- combines the two varieties into one. I know, scandalous.

Here's the deal: cobs become stock. Scallions, butter, and flour cook down into a ridiculous-smelling roux. Yes, we add some milk. But we also add -- bu-dump-ching! -- some sauced tomatoes. (If I'm being honest, I'd probably add some more next time around. I want the soup to be seriously pink.) Also, because I'm me, some hot chiles. That's the broth.

1-DSC_0463

As for the stuff, we've got corn, potatoes, carrots. Maybe some celery, if you'd like. And while I know some of you will balk at what I say next, there's a secret ingredient in this corn chowder that gives it a deep, rich undercurrent of umami. Skip if it wigs you out, but I wouldn't. It's smoked anchovies. My friends Beth and Jeremy are the ones who taught me about the wonder of smoked anchovies: the first time I had them was when I ate chowder at their home last year. I just stocked up on a batch of my own, and I'm never looking back.

1-DSC_0495

The result is rich, but not cloying. It's got punch from the tomatoes and chiles, but it still tastes distinctly of corn. And since you're asking, I'm telling: I'll be serving this over the holidays. It's the perfect dish to send summer off and welcome fall.

1-DSC_0522

Favorite Corn Chowder

Notes: I used the liquid left over from juicing tomatoes before canning them. I liked that there weren't any chunks of tomato, just the flavor. If you'd prefer some chunks, go for it. Either way, I think I'd up the quantity of tomato liquid next time, to make the soup truly pink.

As for the chile, I used fresh red chile, but next time I might play with some Asian chile paste, which would give the soup a red-orange tint and (hopefully) allow some of that oil to float to the top, the way it does in Asian soups. If you try it this way, definitely post in the comments.

6 ears of corn, cobs and kernels separated 4 tablespoons butter 1/2 cup chopped scallions 4 tablespoons flour 2 cups milk 3 smoked anchovies, chopped 1 cup crushed tomatoes or tomato liquid (I might use up to 2 cups next time, for a really pink soup) 1 Thai red chile or red jalapeno, seeds removed, minced (start with part and add to taste) 3 medium red potatoes, peeled and diced (about 2 cups) 3 carrots, coined (about 1 1/2 cups) 1 stalk celery, chopped, optional chives or parsley for garnish

Prepare the stock: Put the corn cobs in a large pot with add 3 cups of water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for about 30 minutes, until the water smells deeply of corn. Remove the cobs, pour the broth into a big heatsafe bowl, and set aside. Leave the pot on the heat.

Make the broth: Add the butter to the pot, stir until it melts, and add the chopped scallions. Let the scallions cook for a minute or two, until the butter smells fragrant and they have softened slightly. Add the flour, stir until the lumps disappear, and stir frequently until the mixture turns golden and smells toasty.

Add the milk a little at a time, incorporating the roux into the milk until the mixture is entirely smooth. Then add the anchovies, tomatoes, and corn broth, stirring to combine.

Finish the soup: Add the corn kernels, chile, potatoes, carrots, and celery if using. Give the soup a stir. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat back to medium-low, and cook for 15-20 minutes, until everything is cooked and the soup looks creamy.

Taste the soup, and add salt, pepper, and chile to taste. I found my soup to be plenty salty after the anchovies and just a pinch of salt, which is why I don't recommend salting the soup until the end.

Serve in big bowls with chopped chives and plenty of crusty bread or oyster crackers.

Chicken Legs with Summer Tomatoes and Basil

We eat a mostly vegetarian diet at home. But every so often, I like to take a good bird, sprinkle it with plenty of salt and pepper, stuff a lemon in the cavity, and roast the hell out of it -- we're talking a 500-degree oven -- until the thing is so crisp that the skin has puffed up and separated from the flesh, a crisp, crackling invitation to tuck into dinner.

For some reason, it's a recipe I associate with winter. If it's December, and D and I get home on Friday afternoon and don't have plans, I'll arrange the bird in a cast iron pan, heat that oven (and my cold hands) high, and get dinner going. That and roasted potatoes, and we're set.

Summertime isn't meant for roast chicken. If our birds don't get rubbed with spices and grilled, they take a turn on the stove top. In this case, we treated them with summer's best tomatoes and some fresh basil from a friend's garden. I browned the chicken pieces, then cooked down those tomatoes with a bit of sliced garlic and plenty of olive oil. Once the tomatoes cooked down to a sauce, I added the chicken back in and finished cooking it in the sauce. Five ingredients, 45 minutes, perfect summer dinner.

Would it be silly to include the word "summer" in every recipe from now till the end of August? I'm thinking of summer peaches with crumb topping, fried summer squash blossoms stuffed with ricotta, and maybe even some summer watermelon-gin slushies. Those peaches are not just best in summer, they're not good any other time of the year. Do not make crumb-topped peaches in December; they will do nothing more than make you sad that August is over.

1-DSC_0155

But while it's August, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Just go to the market, get the best, juiciest tomatoes you can find, and make this chicken. (Seconds run about 99 cents a pound where I live, and they're perfect for this recipe.) Sure, you've got canned tomatoes all year round. But this is a dish you want to make while the red orbs are still in season. Serve it with crusty bread and plenty of olive oil, and you've got the dish to tide you over until roast chicken with lemons is back in style.

1-DSC_0168

Chicken Legs with Summer Tomatoes and Basil Serves 4

4 whole chicken legs (drumstick and thigh), about 2 lbs. Salt and pepper 3 garlic cloves, sliced 3 big, juicy red tomatoes, chopped 20 small-to-medium leaves of basil, halved if large 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

Pat the chicken legs very dry and season generously with salt and pepper on all sides.

Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large, heavy dutch oven or deep-sided saute pan over medium-high heat. Brown chicken legs on both sides until they develop some serious color, about 3 minutes per side. (You may want to use a splatter screen -- the chicken fat splatters pretty violently when the heat is up.) Remove browned chicken to a plate.

Reduce the heat to medium-low and add sliced garlic, followed almost immediately by the tomatoes and their juices. Add a pinch or salt and a few grinds of pepper. Cook uncovered for about 15 minutes, until the tomatoes cook down and the liquid reduces by a third. Then add the chicken legs back to the pan, ladle some of the tomatoes and liquid over the legs, and cover the pan with a disk of parchment paper (or just partially cover it using the lid). Cook for 30-40 minutes, until chicken is cooked through and sauce is silky. If the sauce is still thin, remove the chicken legs, increase heat to medium-high, and reduce the sauce until it has thickened to your liking.

Turn off the heat and stir in the whole basil leaves. Drizzle the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil into the sauce, and stir lightly to combine. Serve with a big hunk of crusty bread or a scoop of rice.

Hi From Here

Just a quick note to say hi from here. I'm decompressing for a few days, after dancing the night away at my brother's amazing wedding. See you all back here in a couple of days. Happy summer!