» Serves 4
1 pound cucumbers (as many varieties as you can find), unpeeled unless waxed
Kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper
½ teaspoon rose water
¼ cup white wine vinegar
½ cup plain whole-milk or low-fat yogurt (not Greek)
1 bunch scallions, trimmed (including ½ inch off the green tops), thinly sliced on a sharp angle, soaked in ice water for 20 minutes, and drained well
¼ cup walnuts, lightly toasted and roughly chopped
1 small handful mint leaves
1 tiny handful pristine rose petals (from unsprayed roses)
Trim the ends of the cucumbers, halve lengthwise, and scoop out the seeds. Slice the cucumbers into shapes that echo their natural shape. Toss the cucumbers with 1 teaspoon salt and put in a colander so the salt can draw out excess moisture. Let them sit for 30 minutes. Blot the cucumbers on paper towels to remove the moisture and excess salt and transfer to a large bowl.
Mix the rose water and vinegar together, add to the cucumbers, and toss. Add the yogurt and toss again. Add the scallions, walnuts, mint, and rose petals. Season lightly with salt and lots of cracked pepper and toss again. Taste and adjust with more vinegar, salt, or pepper. Serve soon.
Lemon Cucumbers with Onion, Papalo, and Lots of Herbs
I don’t run into new ingredients all that often, but when I do, it’s like finding a favorite new rock band. Papalo is sometimes referred to as summer cilantro, because the plant can take the heat, unlike cilantro, which bolts (goes to seed) by the time true summer heat arrives. When you find papalo at your market—and you will more and more—this is the first salad you should make. You don’t have to use lemon cucumber, but this is the perfect recipe to showcase its exceptional crunch. And if you can’t find papalo, the salad is still delicious with all types of herbs. But take my word: Buy some papalo seeds and grow your own. You will be happy.
» Serves 4
1 pound lemon cucumbers or other cucumber varieties (preferably a mix of colors and shapes)
1 medium red onion
Kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper
3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
¼ cup plain whole-milk yogurt (not Greek)
1 small handful papalo leaves or other fresh herbs
1 small handful basil leaves
1 small bunch chives, cut into 3-inch lengths
1 small cluster dill sprigs
Extra-virgin olive oil
Peel the cucumbers if their skins are tough or waxed. Trim the stem end of the cucumbers, halve them lengthwise, and scoop out the seeds. Set the flat side of a half cucumber on a cutting board and cut into ⅛-inch-thick slices. Put the cucumber slices in a large colander.
Cut off the ends of the onion, halve it length-wise, and cut into thin half-moon slices as well. Add to the colander.
Salt the vegetables generously (about 2 teaspoons), tossing to distribute the salt. Let everything sit for about 40 minutes. This will soften the aggressive flavor of the onion and draw out excess moisture from the cucumber and cure it slightly.
Lift the cucumbers and onion out of the colander and pile onto a couple of paper towels. Blot to remove the excess moisture and salt, then pile into a large bowl.
Add the vinegar and toss well. Add the yogurt and toss again. Add the papalo (if using), basil, chives, and dill and toss again. Season with cracked pepper. Taste and add more salt, vinegar, or pepper to make the flavor pop. Finish with a nice shot of olive oil and toss again.
Peeling a cucumber in alternating strips offers some color but reduces any toughness. Halve the cucumber, scoop out the seeds, and slice at a sharp angle to create long crescents.
Salting cucumbers ahead of use reduces sogginess by pulling out moisture and gives them a tighter, “pickled” texture.
Cucumbers, Scallions, Mint, and Dried Chiles
This is my absolute go-to cucumber dish—you can throw it together in no time and the combination of cool cukes, hot chiles, and fragrant mint is definitely the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Key here, however, is the vinegar, which is the slightly sweet, beautifully balanced late-harvest Sauvignon Blanc vinegar made by Albert Katz. (See more about Katz vinegars.)
» Serves 4
1 pound cucumbers (preferably a mix of colors and shapes)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 bunch scallions, trimmed (including ½ inch off the green tops), sliced on a sharp angle, soaked in ice water for 20 minutes, and drained well
¼ red onion, very thinly sliced
1 small handful mint leaves (a mix of varieties is great!)
½ teaspoon dried chile flakes
3 tablespoons slightly sweet white wine vinegar, such as Katz Sauvignon Blanc Vinegar
Extra-virgin olive oil
Coarse finishing salt, such as Maldon or Jacobsen (optional)
Peel the cucumbers if their skins are tough or waxed (for a typical green slicing cuke, peel the skin in alternating stripes). Trim the ends of the cucumbers, halve lengthwise, and scoop out the seeds. Slice the cucumbers into a variety of shapes: moons, angled slices, batons, small chunks. Toss the cucumbers with 1 teaspoon salt and put in a colander so the salt can draw out excess moisture. Let them sit for 30 minutes. Blot the cucumbers on paper towels to remove the moisture and excess salt. Pile them into a large bowl.
Add the scallions, onion, mint, chile flakes, vinegar, and a few generous twists of black pepper. Hold off on the salt for now. Toss to blend the ingredients. Taste and adjust with more chile flakes, black pepper, vinegar, and salt if needed. When the flavor of the salad is exciting and balanced, add ¼ cup olive oil and toss. Taste and add more oil if needed to balance the flavors. You want plenty of “dressing” pooling in the bottom of the bowl; the cucumbers will continue to drink that up, plus you want the juices to run into the other elements on your plate, such as grilled pork. Serve with a sprinkle of finishing salt, if you like, for some crunch.
String Beans
Kid-friendly, happily shaped, and with a flavor that pretty much defines “green,” string beans—also known as snap beans—are amenable and versatile.
But not all are green. Most string beans are the color of grass, but it’s not hard to find pale yellow wax beans and now some purple varieties (which will break your heart, by the way, because the purple fades to green once cooked). Other than color, the main difference among string beans is the shape, which ranges from thin, feminine haricots verts through the longer, sturdier Blue Lake variety to the flattened and slightly paler Romano bean, which is meaty and delicious but must be cooked a long time or else it’s tough.
The “string” is a thing of the past. Prepping modern beans is easy, a simple snap rather than a snap and pull, which is what old-timey cooks did to remove the very fibrous string that ran down one side of the bean. You’ll find a few varieties that still need their strings zipped off, but for most beans, all you do is bend the little stem end to snap it off.
Good from raw to cooked. When I get my hands on early-season, tender, young beans, I’ll serve them raw, or just barely steamed—think of the phrase “crisp-tender.” I find the grassy green notes dominate at this stage and I’ll avoid masking that with competing ingredients. As the bean matures, the sweet earthy notes come forward, especially when I cook them until fully tender . . . even slightly burnt in some cases. More mature beans become really sweet and tender when roasted at high heat or grilled; and braising or stewing is ideal for very mature beans or Romano varieties.
String Beans, Pickled Beans, Tomatoes, Cucumbers, and Olives on Tonnato
This salad evolved from the classic salade niçoise: The potatoes and eggs are gone, but the fresh vegetables are still there, and the tuna is transformed from chunks to a creamy tonnato dip. I throw in arugula to have some greens
, and top it all with crunchy torn croutons—the result is a main-dish salad that captures the vibrancy of the season. To serve this for guests, prepare all the elements ahead and assemble them at the last minute.
» Serves 4
1 medium cucumber
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ pound string beans, trimmed
½ pound cherry tomatoes (a mix of colors if possible), halved
½ medium red onion, thinly sliced
½ cup pitted mixed olives (a mix of colors if possible)
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
¼ teaspoon dried chile flakes
Extra-virgin olive oil
Tonnato
8 ounces pickled string beans; choose a color that contrasts with the other beans
1 big handful arugula
1 small handful basil leaves
2 cups Torn Croutons (optional)
Peel the cucumber if its skin is tough or waxed. Trim the ends of the cucumber, halve lengthwise, scoop out the seeds, and cut crosswise into ¼-inch-thick slices. Toss the cucumber with 1 teaspoon salt and put in a colander so the salt can draw out excess moisture. Let it sit for 15 to 20 minutes. Blot the cucumber on paper towels to remove the moisture and excess salt. Pile into a medium bowl.
Meanwhile, bring a small amount of water to a boil in a skillet, add 1 teaspoon salt and the fresh beans, cover, and steam until the beans are tender but not soft, 5 to 6 minutes. Drain and cool the beans.
Add the tomatoes, onion, and olives to the cucumber. Add the vinegar and chile flakes and season well with salt and black pepper and toss. Taste and adjust with more of the seasonings. Finish by tossing with ¼ cup olive oil.
Spread the tonnato in a thick layer over a serving platter. Pile the steamed beans and the pickled beans on top, and tumble the tomato-cucumber salad on top of the beans. Drop the arugula and basil over the surface and top with the croutons (if using). Give the whole platter a nice drizzle of olive oil to finish and serve right away.
Roasted String Beans and Scallions with Pine Nut Vinaigrette
Roasting amps up beans’ natural sweetness, and gives them a leathery yet tender texture. The scallions also get roasted because they’re a partner vegetable in the dish, not simply an accent aromatic. The pine nut vinaigrette will last a week or more in the fridge.
» Serves 4
1½ pounds string beans (mix colors if you can!), trimmed
3 bunches scallions, trimmed (including ½ inch off the green tops), cut into lengths to match the beans
Extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
⅓ cup Pine Nut Vinaigrette
Juice of ½ lemon
¼ teaspoon dried chile flakes
1 small handful mint leaves
1 small handful basil leaves
¼ cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
Heat the oven to 425°F.
Toss the beans and scallions with a healthy glug of olive oil, ½ teaspoon salt, and many twists of black pepper. Spread onto two baking sheets in a single layer, so the ingredients aren’t too crowded. Roast until nicely softened and browned—even charred—in places, 20 to 30 minutes. (Rotate the pans during cooking if you need to so everything cooks evenly.)
Pile the beans and scallions into a large bowl and sprinkle with the vinegar. Toss to mix and let rest for about 10 minutes to cool slightly.
Whisk together the pine nut vinaigrette, lemon juice, and chile flakes in a small bowl. Pour over the beans and scallions and toss to coat evenly. Taste the beans and dress with more lemon juice, salt, black pepper, or chile flakes to make the dressing zingy. Add the mint, basil, and pine nuts and toss gently again.
Green Bean, Tuna, and Mushroom “Casserole”
One of my favorite things from my Midwestern upbringing is the green bean and mushroom casserole at Thanksgiving—probably the same one that was on your holiday table, thanks to the canned-mushroom-soup marketing campaign. This is my grown-up version of that casserole, which has all the comfort appeal of the childhood dish, but way better flavor and nutritional value. Make it with a one-to-one ratio of mushrooms to green beans, and have some fun with the beans, if you like—you can grill them, slice them thin and use raw, use pickled green beans, or use a mix of all of the above.
» Serves 4
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
1 pound wild mushrooms, wiped off and cut into bite-size pieces (about 6 cups)
One 5-ounce can oil-packed tuna, drained
1 pound green beans, trimmed
1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
⅓ cup Dried Breadcrumbs
Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add salt until it tastes like the sea.
Meanwhile, add ¼ cup olive oil to a skillet that’s large enough to hold all the mushrooms and beans and still have some room to stir the ingredients. Add the garlic and cook slowly over medium heat to toast the garlic so it’s very soft, fragrant, and nicely golden brown—but not burnt—about 5 minutes. Scoop out the garlic and set it aside so it doesn’t burn.
Increase the heat to medium-high and add the mushrooms. Season generously with pepper and salt and sauté, tossing frequently, until the mushrooms are nicely browned around the edges, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the tuna and toss to incorporate. Keep this warm until the green beans are ready.
Add the beans to the boiling water and boil until they are just a bit beyond crisp-tender, 4 to 7 minutes. Drain them thoroughly in a colander and then add them to the mushrooms and tuna.
Add the cream, toss all the ingredients to coat, and simmer until the cream has reduced to a nice cloaking consistency and all the flavors are nicely blended, 6 to 9 minutes.
Add the lemon zest and lemon juice and toss. Taste and adjust with more salt, pepper, or lemon juice. When the flavors are delicious, pile into a serving bowl and top with the breadcrumbs.
Grilled Wax and Green Beans with Tomatoes, Basil, and Spicy Fish-Sauce Sauce
Don’t oil the beans before you grill them—this is one of my core cooking principles: Oiling vegetables before grilling gives them a burned chemical flavor, whereas dry vegetables will caramelize slowly all by themselves, giving you what you want—a sugary, grilled char flavor. Grilling a mix of colors is pretty, but you can make the dish with just one type of bean.
» Serves 4
1 bunch basil (try a mix of opal, lemon, lime, and bush basil)
½ bunch mint
½ pound yellow wax beans, trimmed
½ pound green beans, trimmed
1 bunch scallions, trimmed (including ½ inch off the green tops)
⅓ cup Spicy Fish-Sauce Sauce
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 pint cherry tomatoes (mixed colors), halved
½ cup hazelnuts, lightly toasted and roughly chopped
Heat a grill to medium-high.
While the grill is heating, pick the herbs and leave the leaves whole. If any of the herbs don’t look pristine, discard them; these herbs are like leaves in a salad.
Once the grill is hot, grill the beans and the scallions directly on the grill grates, unoiled. (Um, make sure you place them perpendicular to the grates.) Grill until the beans and scallions are deeply charred and caramelized and quite tender. (You can also cook the beans in a hot cast-iron skillet in batches until evenly charred, slightly wilted, and tender.)
Take the vegetables off the grill, cut the scallions into shorter lengths, and toss the vegetables in a bowl with the spicy fish-sauce sauce. Taste and
season with salt and pepper.
Drizzle on a glug of olive oil, fold in the tomatoes and herbs, and toss. Taste and adjust the seasoning again, adding more spicy fish-sauce sauce if needed to make the salad zingy. Top the beans with the chopped toasted hazelnuts. Serve on the warm side of room temperature.
Summer Squash
Here we go, into the land of fairy tale–size vines that take over the garden, and squashes that seem to multiply by magic. I’m always happy to accept surplus squash . . . as long as they’re tiny. Summer squash has to be harvested young if you have any hope of enjoying it.
Big is bad. Squash generally has a mild (er, bland) flavor, with a pleasing not-quite-firm texture; but both of those attributes fade as squash matures. As seeds develop, squash becomes more bitter, watery, and fibrous—a lot of mushy unpleasantness if you wait too long to harvest.
Have fun with forms and colors. Most common is green zucchini, which has a bright golden counterpart. Smallish round varieties, such as Eight Ball and Ronde de Nice, are showing up at markets now. These are terrific halved, flesh scooped out a bit, and then stuffed and baked. Pattypan squash should get points just for its name and flying-saucer shape, but it’s also quite delicious stuffed or grilled. Then there are the crooknecks, whose necks are the best part because they are dense, buttery, and seedless. The bulbous ends are sometimes a bit seedy. Whichever variety you choose, give it a squeeze and a bend . . . you want very firm squashes that aren’t rubbery.
Six Seasons Page 19