Melissa Clark - Food Writer

Sunday Soups: Roasted Butternut Squash and Rutabaga Puree

If you've never had rutabaga, or, if the last time you had rutabaga was so long ago that you can't quite remember if you like it, try this soup. It's a gentle way to get to know this vegetable, which I always think of as a cross between a turnip and a butternut squash. Or, make this with all butternut squash (you'll need one large one, about 2 1/4 pounds), or substitute sweet potato.

But in any case, this is a restorative soup, the kind of thing to simmer together if you're feeling permanently cold, as if the winter has settled into your spine and isn't planning to leave. Or perhaps you're feeling worn out, under-the-weather, fatigued by holiday cheer, or just downright blah. This soup will heal you. (Then again, you should make it if you're feeling perfectly well and chipper because it's mighty tasty beyond all its curative properties.)

In any case, you'll be rewarded with a creamy, deeply-flavored, slightly sweet puree that will warm your bones and fill your belly.

Those who like things spicy might want to spike this with chili powder. But I left it out to play up the sweetness of the butternut squash. The spinach isn't strictly necessary; I always like to stir greens into my winter soups so I can eat my soup and salad at the same time. But you can skip it. Make sure to use some fresh lemon juice at the end. It really brightens and rounds out the flavors. Balsamic would accomplish the same thing if you prefer it. But it isn't as sunny as lemon. And in winter sunny counts for a lot.

 

Roasted Butternut Squash and Rutabaga Puree with Spinach

Serves 6 to 8

 

1 small (1 1/4 pounds) butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 1-inch chunks

1 pound rutabaga, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks

5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more to finish

2 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus more to taste

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 large (or 4 small) leeks, halved lengthwise, rinsed, and sliced (white and pale green parts only)

2 shallots, chopped

4 fat cloves garlic, chopped

1 large russet potato (or 2 medium Yukon gold potatoes), peeled and cut into 1/2-inch chunks

2 cups any kind of stock (I used duck stock, made in the wake of this video)

2 sprigs fresh thyme

3 sprigs fresh sage

3 sprigs fresh parsley

1 (5-ounce) package washed baby spinach

1 meyer or regular lemon, sliced into wedges, seeds removed

1.  Preheat oven to 450ºF.  On a large rimmed baking sheet, toss squash and rutabaga with 3 tablespoons of olive oil, 2 teaspoons of kosher salt, and a few good turns of freshly ground black pepper.  Spread squash and rutabaga in a single layer and roast for about 30 minutes, or until there’s some solid browning all over. 

2.  Meanwhile, in a soup pot, warm 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium-high heat.  Add leeks, shallots, garlic, and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt and sauté.  Stir frequently until lightly golden, about 5 minutes. 

3.  Add potato, roasted squash and rutabaga, and 1/2 teaspoon of black pepper to pot, and stir it around a bit.

4.  Using kitchen string, the thyme, sage, and parsley in a little bundle and add to pot (if you don't have kitchen string, you could stuff the herbs into a tea ball).  Add 4 cups of water and the 2 cups of stock to pot and bring to a simmer.  Reduce heat, and continue simmering for 30 minutes. 

5.  Remove herb bundle from soup.  With an immersion blender, puree soup to desired consistency (or puree in batches in a blender or food processor, then return to pot) and adjust seasoning with additional salt and pepper if needed.

 6.  Stir baby spinach into soup and bring to a simmer.  Once spinach is silky and wilted, ladle into bowls.

 7.  Drizzle the soup with a little good olive oil and serve with wedges of meyer or regular lemon.

Flaming Spiced Pork Cake: YUM!

 

I owe everything about this cake to my dear friends Karen & Dave. Karen got me the recipe, a highly spiced Victorian stunner that she clipped from a magazine. Dave (Wondrich, the famous cocktail writer and author) taught me how to set things on fire, safely that is. So together, they spawned this lovely recipe, whether they meant to or not.

First of all, about the cake. Although it is supremely delicious, you do not need to make a pork cake in order to set something on fire. Any old cake will do. Fruit cake works nicely but even chocolate bundt cake will fill the bill.

However, if you're at all interested in attempting this old-fashioned recipe, it's a good one. A little like a fruit cake, a little like gingerbread. It's sort of like the porky, soft counterpart to a crisp beef suet-filled mincemeat pie. The pork needs to contain a good amount of fat - there is no other shortening in the recipe. Pork works well because not only is it naturally fatty, it's also relatively bland, which is what you want in this case. Do not substiute ground turkey. Really, you will be sad.

If you've never flambeed your food, there are a few rules to which you must adhere. The first is to use high-proof (aka overproof) spirits. They flame up more easily than regular proof. Just ask at your liquor store. Dave recommends Lemon Hart rum (151 proof) but I used a 120 proof rum from Jamaica and it was fine (as evidenced from the photos, below).

Ideally the rum should be a bit warm, which helps it flame up. Room temperature is fine but don't store the rum in your fridge (or freezer) and then try to use it directly out of the cold.

Do I need to tell you to keep your face, dangling hair, small children and pets away from the flame? Probably not, you know that. But what you might not consider after some holiday cheer is to remember that although this cake is dessert, you should flame it amidst the oohs and aahs at the beginning of the meal, before the cocktail hour. Don't try it at the end of an evening of toasts. You want to be sober when playing with fire. Then, when the flames die down well, pop the cork and pour forth your libation of choice. And Happy Holidays to you all!

Flaming Spiced Pork Cake

Serves 8 to 10

1 pound ground pork (not too lean)

1 1/4 cups raisins

1 1/4 cups chopped dried apricots

1 1/4 cups chopped candied lemon peel

2 cups sugar

1 cup molasses

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon cinnamon

1 tablespoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon fine sea salt

1/2 teaspoon cloves

Hig- proof (aka overproof) rum, as needed (at room temperature or even a little warm)

Whipped cream, for serving, optional

 
1. Preheat the oven to 300° F. Grease a 10-inch bundt pan.

2. In a large bowl, combine the pork and 1 cup boiling water. Stir in the raisins, apricot, candied lemon, sugar, and sugar. Dissolve the baking soda in a splash of water and stir into the mixture. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, and clove. Stir the dry mixture into the pork mixture until just combined. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until the top is golden brown and the cake begins to pull away from the sides of the pan, about 1 hour 40 minutes.

3. Cool the cake on a wire rack. Unmold and place the cake back on the rack. Place the cake on the rack on a rimmed baking sheet (to contain the flames, this keeps them from spreading). Pour some rum all over the cake until the cake is moistened. Pour some rum into a ladle. Dim the lights. Fill a bowl with water and keep it nearby, just in case. Light the rum in the ladle on fire. carefully pour it all over the cake. The flames will ignite the rum on the cake, and also any drips on the baking sheet so be prepared for this. If things get out of control douse with water. But don't panic, the flames die down on their own in seconds.

4. Eat the cake! It's good with whipped cream.

 

 

Kitchen Hip Tip: Toast Your Challah When Making French Toast

We've been eating a lot of French toast on the weekends, ever since we enrolled our small child in a Temple preschool. To support their fundraising efforts, we subscribed to their challah-a-week program, which means we have a constant supply of the ideal French toast bread, and no reason not to fry it up for breakfast on Sunday mornings.

THe thing is, since we get the bread on Friday, it's not quite stale by Sunday. And stale, dry bread soaks up the custard and vanilla and other French toast yumminess better than moist, fresh bread. To compensate, for weeks, I dried out slices of the bread in a low oven, just letting it bake until it was firm and dry but not at all golden. It took its sweet time but then why hurry on a Sunday?

One week, I had reason to want to hurry (you know, a screaming 3 year old demanding her French toast NOW, that sort of hurry). So instead of slowly and patiently drying out the bread, I quickly toasted it under the boiler until it was deeply bronzed on both sides.

And it made the best French toast ever. This is not surprising. Browned, caramelized sugars, whether we are talking about the sugar in challah or the natural sugar in vegetables or meats, add a deep flavor to foods. And it really made my French toast even tastier -- richer, slightly nutty, while still remaining custardy and tender in the center. And the best part, you can do it FAST when a certain little someone wants their breakfast NOW.

Here's what you do: Toast the challah slices (or any bread slices, this works with all breads) under the broiler until golden. Mix up a custard. You can use milk, almond milk, coconut milk, whatever you've got and your diet allows, along with eggs, a pinch of salt, a little honey, some vanilla extract or orange blossom water, and nutmeg (the nutmeg is essential).

Let the bread soak in the custard until it absorbs it - at least 10 minutes or longer if you can bide for time by feeding your small child some maple syrup off a spoon. After all, that's what she really wants.

Then fry up the slices in butter in a skillet. I let my husband do that bit. He's a more patient fryer than I am. I get antsy and multitask and end up burning everything. He has the focus to stand there and wait for the slices to take on the perfect degree of browness before flipping - without giving into the pull of the full dishwasher  (he fries, I empty).

You can also  bake your French toast slices. But takes much longer. And aren't you hungry yet?

Kitchen Hip Tip: To De-Slime Okra, Bury it in Salt

A few weeks ago I was hunting through the farmers' market with the lovely Debbie Koenig, having that all too famliiar yet always hunger-inducing conversation of "what should we make for dinner."

We stopped by a stand selling okra, and I decided to continue my experiments. Lately I'd been trying to rid some of the pod's slime by broiling it. The idea is that super high heat dries up the viscous juices and makes everything crisp. That's my theory about why fried okra is so much less slimy than boiled okra (please correct me if anyone knows better!).

Now, let me take a slimy digression; I actually don't mind the slime. In fact, I'm an okra enthusiast and love the little green torpedo in all permuations. However, I know there are plenty of people out there who are put off by that mucilaginous quality, and I wanted to be able to feed them okra, too.

While Debbie and I were talking about this, a gentleman, who was also buying okra, overheard our conversation and offered this tip for de-slime-ing okra, which he said he learned in the Middle East.

He said to toss whole okra in a generous pile of salt in a colander suspended over a plate, to catch the drips. Keep in a sunny place for two days. The salt draws out the slime, he said.

So I tried it, salting and the okra and letting it rest in the sun for a couple of days. Then I split the pods lenthwise in half, tossed them with olive oil, ground cumin, salt, and cayenne and broiled them until they were crisp.

I have to say, they were nearly slime-less. And utterly delicious.

Then as a control, I broiled okra exactly the same way a few days latter, but without salting it first. It was wonderful, but slightly slimier. 

Verdict: The salt trick works, but only to a mild degree, at least for broiling. Next I'm going to
try salting the okra and then cooking it in gumbo, the proudest slimy dish of all time. In the meantime, I'd say if you have 2 days to plan ahead, might as well salt your okra since the texture is improved, slightly. If not, just try my broiling method and let me know what you think!

 

Cupcakes (Squared) for Dahlia's Birthday

This is the story of two cupcake recipes that I made for Dahlia's 3rd birthday. One was pretty (see above: pretty!). And one was a disaster (no photo evidence available).

Really I just want to give you the recipe for the pretty cupcakes, sweet potato and pumpkin cupcakes studded with raisins (at Dahlia's request) and iced with a maple cream cheese buttercream. Purple sanding sugar makes it all glisten. I made them for her preschool birthday party and they were a hit with teachers and kids alike.

For good reason.

The cake crumb was tender, moist, with a light spicing and substantial heft, filled with good homemade pumpkin puree (I had some in the freezer, you could use canned), and one sweet potato that I nuked in the microwave until soft, then mashed up. It turned out to be a nice combo: the sweet potato really added great flavor and complexity here and perked up the pumpkin, which I think can be kind of one-note. I'm sure you could make these with all sweet potato, or all pumpkin, though I might up the spices a bit if you don't like the complexity of the two veggies going on.

Anyway, the recipe for these beauties is below. If you cut the sugar and skip the frosting they would make lovely muffins. Nuts would be a nice addition if you're not bringing them to preschool.

Now let me tell you quickly about the sad cupcakes I made for her birthday party in the park. Vanilla cake (nice, light but nothing to blog about, frankly). But that wasn't the problem. The problem was the frosting, a buttercream spiked with creme fraiche, which made it so LIGHT! So Fluffy! They were works of art before I left the house for Prospect Park on what was a strange, 85-degree day in October.

But on the way, in the shopping cart that Daniel and I used to drag the party stuff down Flatbush to the park, the frosting melted, and dripped everywhere. It also kind of curdled in the heat. Okay, it didn't taste curdled but it looked curdled. Really not what you want. Luckily, I had brought a basket of different colored sanding sugars and let the kids decorate the tops to their hearts' content. Yes, they liked that. And they liked the cupcakes. They were tasty. But I'm never making that recipe again.

 

Pumpkin Sweet Potato Cupcakes with Raisins and Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

Makes about 30 cupcakes

 

Pumpkin-Sweet Potato Cupcakes

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons fine sea salt

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

6 large eggs, at room temperature

2 cups pumpkin puree (mine was from a cheese pumpkin but that doesn't matter)

1 cup sweet potato mush (see note)

2 cups light brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 1/2 cups unsalted butter (3 sticks), melted

1 cup raisins (or nuts, or a combo)

 

Cream Cheese Maple Frosting:

2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese

12 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar

6 tablespoons maple syrup

Red food coloring, optional

Blue food coloring, optional

Colored sanding sugar, optional

 

1. Preheat the oven to 350° F. Fill three standard 12-cup muffin tins with cupcake liners.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, pumpkin and sweet potato purees, sugars, and butter. If there are lots of squash or potato lumps, puree the mixture for a minute or so in a food processor or blender.

Fold in the dry ingredients until just combined. Fold in the raisins.

4. Fill each muffin cup 2/3 full with batter. Bake cupcakes until golden and a toothpick inserted in the center emerges clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Let cupcakes cool in the tin for 5 minutes, then remove and transfer cupcakes to a wire rack to cool completely. 

5. While the cupcakes bake, make the frosting: Whip the cream cheese and butter together until light and fluffy. Beat in sugar and maple syrup. For a pretty pale pink, add several drops of red food coloring and one or two scant drops of blue.  Scrape the frosting into a large resealable plastic bag (or you can use a pastry bag with a wide tip if you’ve got one) and refrigerate until cupcakes are completely cool.

6. When you’re ready to decorate the cupcakes, snip one corner of the plastic bag. Squeeze a large dollop onto each cupcake. Flatten with an offset spatula if desired. Sprinkle with colored sugar.

 

Note: To make the sweet potato mush, place the sweet potato chunks on a microwaveable plate and cover loosely with a paper towel. Microwave on medium heat until they are very soft, about 7 minutes. Mash until very smooth (you should have about 1 cup).

 

Leftover Broccoli Stem Soup

A few months ago, I tested a recipe for the Franny's Brooklyn Cookbook I'm working on. It was the simplest, more pure broccoli soup I'd ever eaten: rich and savory, but still tasting of the essence of the vegetable, made without any kind of stock. It was a chunky puree with a snowy mountain of good cheese on top, finished with a bright squirt of lemon.

The technique is pure genius on Andrew Feinberg's part (he's the chef at Franny's). Brown the broccoli thoroughly in plenty of oil, but only on one side. This builds a foundation of flavor without obliterating the peppery, green taste of the broccoli since one side is left unbrowned and naked.

I know this is a tease, because I can't publish the recipe until the book comes out, which won't be until--oh, around 2013. But I wanted to write about it because I made the soup again last week with some leftover broccoli stems and leaves (no florets) and it was just as wonderful. See how pretty:

^{photo by Olga Massov}

 I'd never been great at saving broccoli stems (confession time, I used to throw them out). I knew I wasn't supposed to. Everyone who was a better cook than I said to save them, peel them, and use them along with the florets.

But it just seemed like too much trouble. Anyway in this age of nose-to-tail vegetable cooking, I finally saved a pile of stems leftover from making my favorite garlicky broccoli salad for my friend Alice's book party. (Go buy her fantastic new book, Naked Wine - everything you want to know about natural and organic wines is in this book!)

I dutifully put them in a bag in the fridge, but, between you and me, I really didn't have much faith that I'd do anything other than throw them out once they started to get slimy in a few weeks. In the meantime they would torment me, making me feel guilty and inadequate.

Luckily, soup weather descended early and I remembered Andrew's fantastic broccoli soup. So I whipped up a batch with the stems. I didn't go too crazy with the peeling, just ran a peeler up the stalks to get rid of any brown spots. Then I chopped the stems up, along with the leaves, and browned everything in plenty of oil, in batches.

Cooking in batches is key here because if you overcrowd the pan, the broccoli will steam instead of brown. Once all the broccoli bits were crisp and golden, I salted them. Then took what was left after eating quite a few bites because you know, olive oil fried broccoli is crazy-good, added it to some sauteed onion and garlic, and poured in just enough water to barely cover everything. A few minutes of simmering brought the flavors together. Then I stuck in an imersion blender to smooth things out.

Some cheese on top (parmesan or pecorino), a squeeze of lemon, another drizzle of oil and it's a fantastic soup, perfect for today -- even if you end up making it with entire heads of broccoli and not just the stems.

End of Summer Blackfish with Tomatoes, Peppers, and Madras Curry Brown Butter

Excuse the awkward food styling here. Or more accurately, the complete lack of food styling. But I just couldn't wait to dig into this heady fish curry. The aromas were so savory, so rich and herbal and spicy that as soon as the two tender fillets were cooked through, I slid the mess from the pan onto a plate, asked Olga to snap a picture (hurry hurry!) and dug in. No time for food styling or fussing, not while my stomach was growling so audibly and persistently (though Olga did ask that next time I at least let her put the food on the plate in a more considered way and I agree that would have made for a prettier picture though not necessarily as good a lunch).

Anyway, this recipe is just the thing to make while you can still get good tomatoes and peppers from the market. The curry brown butter sauce just sort of happens as the butter browns while the fish cooks, and it mingles with the curry powder you've sprinkled on the fillets to season them. It sounds a lot fancier than it really is.

I love cooking with blackfish since it's local and thick and meaty and very sweet. But any fish would work well, even stronger ones such as mackerel and swordfish. What you want to do is brown the fish a little to flavor the sauce, then remove the fillets from the pan so they don't overcook while the sauce reduces. Then add the fish back in at the last minute to allow the flavors to come together. Just adjust the cooking time depending upon the type of thickness of your fillets (or steaks, those work too).

I used a Cubanelle pepper because I had one but any bell pepper is fine. Green ones add a grassy freshness; red or orange or yellow lend a sweeter taste. If you want some heat, throw in a sliced up jalapeno or serrano if you can take it.

Finally a word about the Madras curry powder: the best ones will have a spicy chili bite with some real tongue-zapping heat. If you only have regular curry powder, perk it up with a pinch of cayenne. And definitely make sure your spices are fresh and aromatic. Stale spices = flat boring curry. And who wants that?

End of Summer Blackfish with Tomatoes, Peppers, and Madras Curry Brown Butter

2 blackfish filets around 7 ounces each

Coarse sea or kosher salt

Pepper

Madras curry

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons dry white wine

Olive oil

1 Cubanelle or bell pepper of any color, thinly sliced

1 clove garlic, minced

Zest of 1/2 lime

1 large tomato, grated

Cilantro, roughly chopped

Basil leaves, torn

Juice of 1/2 lime

 

1. Wash and pat dry the filets, making sure to pull out any pin bones. Season the fish with salt and pepper and generously sprinkle the curry powder. Allow the fish to “cure” for at least 30 minutes. 

2. Melt the butter in a large skillet over high heat until the solids have settled at the bottom and bubbling has subsided. Add fish, skin side up, to pan and cook without moving it around until it is well browned, about 3 minutes; flip fish and continue to cook until it is just opaque. You will notice that the butter will have turned dark brown and nutty-smelling. You want this.

3. Transfer fish to a plate and set aside. If some of the fish skin sticks to the pan, ignore it, it will eventually meld into the sauce and add flavor. Add the wine to the pan and deglaze, scraping the brown bits and any skin that has stuck to the bottom.

4. Add the peppers to the skillet and sauté for 4 to 5 minutes, until slightly browned and softer. If the peppers look a little dry, add a splash of olive oil to them while sauteing. Stir in the garlic and lime zest, cook for 30 seconds until fragrant, and add the grated tomato. Cook until most of the tomato liquid has evaporated, about 2 minutes on high heat. Place the fish back into the skillet, cover, and cookuntil the fish is heated and cooked through. Serve fish sprinkles with cilantro and basil, and drizzles with lime juice.

Serves 2.

 

Southeast Asian Tomato Salad

 ^{Photos by Olga Massov}

It's August, in fact we're halfway through August. And this means another sneak peek into my upcoming book, "Cook This Now" due out in October and is now available for pre-order!

 

***

I tossed this together one night to serve with the Thai-style ground turkey dish. It’s a departure from my usual tomato salad, which is comprised of little more than carved up tomatoes, torn basil, salt, and olive oil. Daniel and I eat this simple salad almost every night in tomato season since it takes about 20 seconds to assemble and has a juicy purity of tomato flavor that I can’t seem to get enough of this time of year.

            But with the fish sauce, limes, scallions, and jalapenos for the turkey already sitting out within arms’ reach, I decided to try something new.

It turned out to be insanely good, very tangy and a nice break from the more everyday, if tasty, tomato salads I usually make. I’ve since added it to our summer tomato rotation and find myself whipping it up even if I have to hunt in the cupboard for the fish sauce and sort through the vegetable bin for a jalapeno. It’s worth the chase every time.

 

Makes 4 servings

 

About 2 teaspoons Asian fish sauce such as nam pla or nuoc mam, or to taste

2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lime juice

1 teaspoon light brown sugar

2 scallions, finely chopped

1 fat garlic clove, minced (or use 2 small ones)

1/2 jalapeno pepper, seeded, if desired, and finely chopped

3 large or 4 medium tomatoes, sliced 1/4-inch thick

2 tablespoons chopped fresh Thai or regular basil

2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

 

1. In a small bowl, whisk together the fish sauce, lime juice, sugar, scallion, garlic, and jalapeno. (If you think your fish sauce is very salty, start with 1 teaspoon; you can add more at the end).

2. Arrange the tomato slices on a plate. Spoon the dressing over the tomatoes. Let stand 10 minutes to allow the tomatoes time to release their juices. Sprinkle with basil and cilantro; serve.

 

What Else?

- Cucumbers, that’s what else. This salad is even better with some sliced cucumbers added to the mix. I didn’t have any when I first made this, but if I had, I would have replaced one of the tomatoes with a nice big Kirby cucumber, sliced thin.

- If you have access to a tender lemongrass stalk, use it here in place of the scallion, or alongside it.

- Different brands of fish sauce (otherwise known as nam pla or nuoc mam) have different degrees of saltiness. It’s less apparent when used in cooking, but when drizzled raw on salads you need to be careful. Start with a little and add more as you go. I used 2 teaspoons but trust your own palate.

- If you’d rather go for a bare-bones tomato salad, leave out all the ingredients except the tomatoes, salt, and basil. Add pepper to taste and toss well with a few drops of good olive oil. That’s all you need.

 

A Dish By Another Name

For a Southeast Asian Tomato Noodle Salad double all the ingredients except for the tomatoes, which you should dice instead of slice. Toss with about 6 ounces of cooked rice noodles, then adjust the seasonings to taste. It will probably need a bit more fish sauce, lime juice, and sugar.

 

Corn, Cherry Tomato and Zucchini Salad with Basil and Baby Lettuces

 

I'm considering this week as the unofficial corn week at Melissa Clark headquarters (that is, my kitchen), mostly because I can't seem to get enough of it. I'll eat it raw, cooked (as in nuked), plain, buttered, in pasta dishes, creamed with blue cheese (yum!), in soups on those cold rainy days we just had, and most often, tossed into salads where its sweet, juicy bite goes so wonderfully with the slightly bitter baby lettuces one gets during the summer.

Here is my current favorite corn salad, the one I've been eating all month long. It's terrific on its own, but also benefits from a handful of shredded roasted chicken if you happen to have any leftover. Sometimes I add cheese, sometimes I don't. Cubed tofu or leftover roasted potatoes would be nice adds ins, too.

You can vary the veggies to match your latest farmers' market haul but I seem to always have tiny yellow zucchini, golden tomatoes, scallions, and cucumbers around to round out the corn and baby lettuces. Whatever you do though, don't skip the basil or scallion (or substiute another leafy herb plus  onion or garlic). The salad really needs that allium tanginess combined with the green herbal character to make it shine.

Once you've got your veggies at the ready, toss them (use your hands!) with lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper tp taste. You could make a proper vinaigrette with mustard and balsamic vinegar or what have you. But I never do. Summer means lazy, easy dinners whipped up from the season's best produce. Simplicity is key.

 Corn, Cherry Tomato and Zucchini Salad with Basil and Baby Lettuces

Serves 2 to 4

1 ear corn, husked

2 cups thinly sliced small zucchini (from 2 small zucchini)

1 cup thinly sliced cucumber

1/2 cup halved cherry tomatoes

2 scallions, white and green parts, thinly chopped

8 large basil leaves, torn in pieces

Fresh lemon juice, to taste

Extra-virgin olive oil, to taste

Salt and black pepper, to taste

8 cups washed and dried baby salad greens

Shaved parmesan, optional

1. If you want to cook the corn, microwave it on high for 2 minutes. Allow to cool slightly before slicing the kernels off. Or just slice the raw kernels off. I like this salad both ways. The cooked corn is more velvety-textured but the raw is sweeter.

2. Combine the kernels with zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes, scallions and basil and stir to mix well. Drizzle lemon juice and olive oil; sprinkle with a pinch of salt and pepper. Stir to combine, taste, and adjust seasonings. Add the greens along with more lemon juice, olive oil, and salt and pepper and toss, preferably with your hands, to combine. Taste and adjust seasonings. Sover with shaved parmesan if you like.

Kitchen Hip Tip: To Cook Corn, Skip the Pot Of Boiling Water and Nuke it Instead

 

^{Photo by Olga Massov}

I'm not one of those microwave enthusiasts who champion the box for all manner of cooking. For the most part, I use it for reheating (especially rice), for melting butter and chocolate, for giving the dregs of my cooling morning cup of tea another stemaing boost before I swallow it down.

One reason I haven't gotten more serious about the box is because it's been built into a cabinet high above my head in our kitchen. Using the microwave requires me to hop on a step stool every time.

But there is one place where I rely on the microwave and that is for cooking corn.

The advantages are many. You don't have to sit there waiting for the giant pot of water to come to a boil. You don't have to then drain said heavy pot full of water after the corn is done. The kitchen doesn't heat up. And the corn tastes just as good if not better.

Getting the timing down might take a few tries since everyone's microwave is a little different. Here's what I do (start here and adjust to suit your microwaves and your taste for corn doneness, I like mine al dente, though isn't all corn on the cob, in a way, al dente?).

To Microwave Corn: Husk the corn and cook it in your microwave, on high, for 2 minutes. If you have several ears of corn, just add 30 seconds for each additional ear. And that's it.

To cool it down immediately to use in salads, I rinse the cobs under cold water, then dry them off. Or eat them piping hot with lots of dripping, salted butter (yum!).

Here are some corn-related links that have been on my mind lately:

1. The super-helpful video by Merrill Stubbs on food52 on how to cut the kernels off the cob.

2. Times' recipes for corn pudding with nothing but corn - simply genius.

3. Last year's recipe on this blog for caramelized corn.

Enjoy the corny bounty!