l'été does end

well, another glorious summer has come to an end. i know the season doesn't officially end until later in september, but it just kinda of feels over, right? little kiddies are going back to school, balmy afternoons are replaced with rainy ones, there is a tiny edge in the air. i even wore a hoodie today! better to embrace change than long for a stasis which can never be, but it's still hard to say goodbye to my favorite three months of the year.

i spent more of june, july and august working than lounging by the pool or the ocean, but i'm kind of okay with that. i spent a lot of my early 20's not working a whole lot, so it feels pretty satisfying (albeit, an exhausted kind of satisfaction) to be hustling while i still have the energy and time. one very small regret of my summer is not spending quite as much time in the kitchen as i would have liked. i do think we made the best of our CSA and farmer's market hauls, as dozens of ears of corn, countless salads, and a bushel of tender tomatoes crossed our cutting board and graced our plates.

one of my favorite salads of the summer was an unexpected combination of raw fennel slices, paper thin radish half moons, a sprinkling of blueberries, and a touch of firm goat cheese. something about the interplay of all the colors and textures came alive together. the fennel and blueberries have a casual vibe, like denim cut offs and a worn out v-neck. but then outta nowhere the sleek radishes are like a swipe of matte red lipstick to give the shorts and tee a glamorous pop. the goat cheese is the sexy lingerie no one knows is under that unassuming, bleached out cotton shirt.

plus, it's based on this recipe from food&wine, created by one of my all time most beloved top chef contestants, stephanie izard. i took some liberties with the ingredients of the original salad, but i made the lovely dressing obediently, and smiled a little more with each bite. at first, i straight up balked at the addition of mayo to the dressing, but its binding powers make the whole thing a dreamy, gingery delight. this smooth operator will certainly elevate any salad or vegetable to a sunny, happy place.

Creamy Ginger Dressing from the recipe linked above
~takes about 5 minutes

ingredients:
2 tablespoons minced, peeled fresh ginger root
2 tablespoons minced shallot
1 tablespoon white balsamic or champagne vinegar
1 tablespoon mayo or veganaise
1 and 1/2 teaspoon dijon or spicy brown mustard
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon maple syrup or agave nectar
1/4 cup grapeseed oil or XVO (maybe a little less if you want to keep it on the lighter side)

- no nonsense: combine all ingredients in a mini food processor. whir on high until well blended. season with salt and pepper. done, kind of like the summer of 2011.

love,
emily

evil twin

on a whim the other week, i brought a nice cache of fresh fennel back from the superfresh (goddamn, i miss the farmer's market). once breaking two lovely bulbs down, i realized it was just too much fennel for one dish. well, it would've been the perfect amount for tomato soup with two fennels, but we were in the midst of a spell of warm weather, and i was feeling kinda souped out.

so in the interest of diversification, i tried two very different approaches to preparing this licorice scented beaut. the first was a crunchy, tangy salad that plays the clean, citrusy flavors of grapefruit off the clean, sharp flavors of the fennel. a handful of thinly sliced red onion added a pungency which popped against a backdrop of tender lettuce leaves. i then dressed this pink and purple melange with a light shower of orange juice, mild honey, red wine vinegar and xvo. this salad brought a fierce brightness to the plate, which is just what a winter salad should do. it would be a great compliment to a rich entree of stew, pasta, or braised protein.


i reserved the other half of the fennel slivers for another night, which, in typical spring fashion, was as cold and rainy as the previous night had been warm and breezy. so, i decided to take a totally opposite direction, with an easy, fuss free recipe from the stellar The Essential NY Times Cookbook by amanda hesser. the fennel is steamed for just under ten minutes, and then sauced with a chile-infused olive oil, and a touch of salt and pepper. i lined the plate with a bed of arugula in a half assed attempt to squeeze some more greens into my diet.

i really love vegetables that are equally good cooked and raw, and fennel really wins in both cases. it's so hard to imagine when eating it in its sweet and crunchy raw state that it can also be transformed into a silky version of itself. these two wildly different treatments of fennel reminds me of that always enthralling narrative theme - the evil twin. like, the raw fennel salad is cheery, sweet and straightforward, while the spicy, steamed fennel is mysterious, rich, almost musky. ok, i'll stop personifying my food and just get on with recipe already.

Steamed Fennel with Spicy Olive Oil
adapted from The Essential New York Times Cookbook by Amanda Hesser
~takes about 15 minutes~

ingredients:
1-2 fresh fennel bulbs, trimmed and sliced thinly (i mean, really you can make this with as much or little fennel as you'd like - just adjust the amount of olive oil)
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1-2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes, depending on how much spiciness you enjoy

- place the fennel in a steaming basket over a pot of gently boiling water. steam until tender, 5-7 minutes.

- in the meantime, put the olive oil in a small pot over a very, very low flame. after it is gently warmed, turn the heat off and swirl in the red pepper flakes. set this aside. if you are in the habit of making your own olive oil infusions, this would be a wonderful opportunity to skip this step entirely and use your ready-to-go flavored oil.

- when the fennel is done, plate it as artfully or messily as you care to. gently drizzle the infused olive oil over it, and sprinkle with a pinch of salt and pepper, to taste.

while you eat it, listen to this song and think about all the awesomely dangerous, selfish and lascivious things you would do if you had an evil twin.

love,
emily

motto: friendship

lauren, halimah and i recently got back from a westerly sojourn to visit our dearest friend mary in houston,tx where she is studying architecture at rice university. besides little overnight trips here and there, this was my first real experience with a ladies only vacation. and let me tell you - it was amazing! we bonded deeply over serious confessions, embarrassing stories, nonsense jokes and sex talk. we stayed up late, whispered once the lights were out, slept in daily, traded accessories, shooed off male suitors in bars, and drove around listening to oldies.

but, perhaps most importantly, we ate and drank our asses off. from the high brow to the low brow, we left no culinary stone unturned. during a week when most americans are cursing themselves for their holiday indulgences, and swearing to do better this time around, our appetites took houston by storm. we scarfed trashy tex mex at chuy's, gorgeous waffles at baby barnaby's, light-as-a-feather gourmet pizzas at dolce vita, and simply perfect avocado tacos from the truck adjacent to possibly the best dive bar that side of the mississippi, the west alabama ice house.

my favorite meals, though, were the ones we prepared for ourselves in mary's tiny, charming kitchen. except for sunday brunch, we made breakfast each morning, small, balanced little meals, much like the ones i make at home before work. toast, coffee, yogurt, fruit.

there were a few lovely home cooked dinners, as well, usually preceded by a hasty trip to the nearby h-e-b for ingredients and beer. buying a 12-pack of cheap craft beer in a grocery store is such a succinct pleasure for a pennsylvanian. back at home base, we'd share the prep work with jangly tunes from the college radio station as our soundtrack. the fragrance from the simmering pot filled the small apartment, and a voice from the couch would pipe up, "what smells so good?" while i whipped up the salad dressing, mary would spread out her prized vintage place mats, and uncork the wine. finally, we would all sit down together, a tender ritual that recalled the glory days when we all lived under one roof in west philadelphia.

my favorite dinner was on saturday night. at that point, we'd been in houston for a few days and had all fallen into an easy groove with one another. there were still a few days standing between us and our departure, and if i stretched my imagination a bit, i could pretend that we'd never have to say goodbye. earlier that day, we drove out to galveston to rest our eyes on the gulf of mexico and explore the meager town. standing with my bare toes in the sand in early january, the wind whipping through the beleaguered palm trees, felt cinematic and intense.

as we returned to houston, restless from the sluggish highway traffic, we pulled off for late afternoon milkshakes from a charming diner. an hour later, overloaded on sugar and a bit regretful for it, we were all craving something inoffensive and clean for our pummeled palates. mary, who somehow always knows what's right for every occasion, suggested a fennel-studded tomato soup recipe from a homemade life, the beautiful memoir and cookbook from one of our favorite bloggers, molly wizenberg. lauren gifted me this book for christmas and i'd devoured nearly all of it on the plane ride from philly to houston just days before, so it seemed extra fitting. single handedly and with the grace of a true cook, mary put together the most splendid meal i've had in ages.

alongside the tomato fennel soup was a salad of lightly dressed bitter greens with apples and shaved aged provolone, a hunk of 3-seeded bread, and roasted cauliflower with a pungent, citrusy sauce. it was flawless. after the plates were cleared and the dishes done, we played rounds and rounds of our favorite card game, which became increasingly rowdy with each beer we drank. at some hazier point in the night, we popped a bottle of prossecco, and toasted to our love, which is especially appropriate in texas, where the state motto is "friendship."

Tomato Soup with 2 Fennels

from "A Homemade Life," by Molly Wizenberg

~serves 4-6 (generous helpings)~

~takes about 40 minutes~

ingredients:

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 yellow onion, thinly sliced

2 medium fennel bulbs, trimmed and thinly sliced (save some of the fronds for garnish)

4-5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

1 teaspoon fresh thyme or 1/2 tsp dried thyme

2 28 ounce cans whole or chopped tomatoes

water

3/4 teaspoon salt

sugar, to taste

pepper and vinegar, to taste

- in a dutch oven or soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. add the chopped onions and fennel, and sautee for 5 minutes.

- add the garlic, thyme and fennel seeds. cook, stirring occasionally, for another 5-8 minutes.

- if using whole canned tomatoes, crush them in a food processor, with your hands, or however else you'd like. if using pre-crushed, no need to crush further. in any case, add the tomatoes and their juices to the pot and stir everything together.

- fill one of the now empty tomato cans with water and add to the mixture.

- turn the heat down, and let the soup gently simmer, uncovered, for 40-45 minutes.

- when the fennel is very tender, and the tomatoes have reduced to make the soup taste full-bodied, it's done! add salt and pepper to taste. if the soup is too acidic for you, a pinch of sugar will mellow it out. if you want a little more bite, add a small splash of red wine vinegar.

- ladle into soup bowls, and top with a pinch of fennel fronds, and a dollop of yogurt or sour cream (optional, of course!).

- serve, very hot, preferably to a table of your best friends.

love,

emily