A Convivial Coming Together of the Seasons: A Bittersweet Salad

Crisp fall chicories cradle late-summer stone fruits picked past their prime, softened by months spent ripening beneath stifling sun. Black Ruby plums, golden yellow peaches, honey-hued nectarines, and a German-striped tomato find solace amongst a bed of radicchio leaves. On top, a flowering of marigold petals which I could lie and say were intentionally added for a piquant peppery punch rather than their looks, but I’ve adopted an unabashed acceptance of my aesthetic priorities (although, they were indeed a spontaneous addition on behalf of my apartment’s rooftop community garden, where I prefer to photograph). Finished with my current favorite chartreuse olive oil and a sprinkling of red volcanic salt + cracked peppercorns meant to complete, rather than compete with the produce.

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With summer in the peripheral, fall in full force, and winter somehow already in view (which I attribute mostly to my day job that forces us to constantly think months in advance), the first of the cool days have reminded me of the visceral qualities of the latter months. At the height of each season, I can’t fathom what the extremes of the opposite feel like, so when shifts begin, even if subtle, they present jarringly. A stretch of 4, dreary, 60-degree days contrasted with the week of a furiously strong September sun prior was an ominous reminder of what the cold months have brought in the past years.  

Perpetually clenched shoulders; muscles innately bracing in response to temperatures decreasing, but also, a physical symptom of annually heightened mental stress.

Today I paused. In reflecting, I dissected the trendlines of my seasonal dispositions over the last five years. This involved looking at not only my past self’s internal state but also the outward environments I’ve found myself in. Noting the conditions of my relationships (familial and otherwise), the stage of my career (or jobs held at the time), and the prevalence of natural landscapes versus manufactured facades. And whilst I don’t feel confident in this moment that ease will ensue anytime soon, or any drastic life changes that come about in my grass-is-greener daydreams will actualize before the year’s end, I’m glad that I’ve recognized this cyclical pattern.

Maybe I’ll take this moment as a reminder to ground, rest easy, relax my shoulders, and know that I don’t have to brace myself for a harsh, biting chill ahead. Each season is new, its own, and not subject to the pretense of past years unless I choose to apply it. I can choose to be excited, to allow whatever to come, and trust I’ll find warmth and levity some days. Emphasis on some. To hell with the all-or-nothing mentally. When my mind is muddled and mired in anxiety during the day-to-day, it likes to see life in extremes. Fear cannot see the forest for the trees.

It’s only when I luxuriate in stillness (which rarely shows up on mild, unhurried days) that I’m able to contemplate the wins, or moments my past self held as mere manifestations. Some days are golden. And although a large majority have felt bitter, burdened by fear and self-doubt, in this present moment I feel confident in proclaiming the golden days have been pretty damn worth it. Everything balances out for the most part it seems.

~It’s a bit batty how my attempt to write a simple recipe description always leads to self-revelations. A nod to the power of food writing? ~

A Bittersweet Salad

I feel it would be belittling to whoever is reading this to “recipe” to list steps of how to compose such a simple dish. It mainly serves as a suggested combination of delicious things and flavor profiles that happen to taste as lovely together as they look.

“Ingredients”

2 small black plums

1 white nectarine

1 big yellow peach

1 large heirloom tomato

1 head of radicchio, weeping leaves removed

olive oil

vinegar or lemon juice

salt, pepper, spices of some sort

flower petals or fresh herbs

“Directions”

Slice, quarter, or chop any or all of these things in whatever manner you like. Drizzle with olive oil, or maybe you prefer some rich hazelnut oil, or nothing. Add an acid, I like rice vinegar on everything but lemon juice is nice too. Salt generously if you’re like me and can’t go a meal without a flake of Maldon or a heavy sprinkle of something coarse. A pinch will do, but why not season with something fun like a pink peppercorn or marigold petal if it’s at your disposal?

Cheers.

High Spring: Roasted Asparagus Quiche

Ground any gardener’s (or shopper’s) gluttony of green things in a simple marriage of eggs + cheese, then bake it all up in a buttery crust. How could one go wrong?

A forgiving bake, one suited for all seasons and produce. Personally, it’s a nostalgic dish that evokes countless memories that I’ll spare you of here in terms of my deep-rooted admiration for the darling of any proper, or attempting to be, French cafe.

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A Saturday, towards the end of May.

Galvanized buckets of asparagus bunches, toppling over after a long day’s work of trying to sell themselves to market shoppers who at this stage in the season have reached their saturation point for the springs’ spears, sing out to frantic, delayed arrivals grateful to be left with anything not already wilted with just an hour to spare.

When you fall into the latter category, quiche is there to calm any qualms one might have for making use of 3 generous bundles (who can pass up 3 for $10!?) of the verdant varietal. The same goes for all the other market misfits. Maybe your timing meant bruised beefsteaks or turning turnips were all that remained, meaning the selections weren’t in favor of imparting much flavor on their own in whatever dishes they’ll comprise.

The key to developing their flavor is in the preparation. A robust roast and generous char under a veil of seasoning can save even the saddest, most watery of produce.

Cast aside fears of compulsive local produce purchases wasting away with this remedy of a recipe. Not that anyone needed to be informed on the glories of quiche or actually need more ideas on how to use excess asparagus, just giving my two cents in as long-winded a way as possible, per usual. I have to say, a fulfilling Saturday stroll to Eastern Market tends to make up for Sundays ridden with scarries, thus a romanticized recount of my rushed purchasing decisions of enough asparagus to feed a family of 6 this week.

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Roasted Asparagus (or any spring veg) Quiche

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CRUST:

1 cup of cold, unsalted butter, cubed (2 sticks)

1 1/2 cups of All-purpose flour

1 cup of whole wheat flour (or an more AP if whole wheat isn’t your thing )

1 teaspoon of sea salt

4-ish tablespoons of cold water

FILLING:

2 whole eggs

2 egg yolks

1 small fennel bulb, thinly sliced

1 bunch of asparagus, tough ends snapped off

1/2 small onion, thinly sliced

2 tablespoons minced parsley (or your favorite herbs like tarragon, chives, or celery leaves)

3/4 cup grated cheese

I used a mix of Mild Cheddar (1/2 cup) and Gruyère (1/4 cup)

Spices

pink peppercorns, salt, smoked paprika, oregano, garlic powder (but use your favorite, and season as you like)

Directions:

To Make the Tart Crust: (makes enough for 2 single-crust pies, tarts, or galettes—freeze the extra!)

1. Whisk together the dry ingredients in a large bowl.

2. Drop the cubes of butter evenly over the flour mixture, then toss to coat them. Using your fingers, massage the butter cubes into the flour, forming lima-bean-sized flakes. We aren’t going for cornmeal here, we want a few visible discs of butter flakes in amongst some pea-sized crumbs to manifest a divinely flaky crust.

3. Pour over the cold water, and mix together with a wooden spoon till the dough begins to come together to form a wet and sticky ball. Divide it into two, flatten each into 1” discs, and wrap them in parchment paper. Chill in the fridge until firm, 1-2 hours.

4. Generously dust your counter with flour place 1 disc of dough on top, sprinkle with flour, and roll it out into a long, 1/2” thick rectangle. Brush off excess flour off the dough with your hands and fold it as you would a business letter, into thirds. You could repeat this again for maximal flake, but just one tri-fold is sufficient for our purposes.

5. Dab the edges of your pan with butter. Roll the square of dough into a round large enough to line your pie/ tart pan (I did 12” for my 9” pan), and gently drop the round into the pan. Lightly press the dough into the pan, crimp the edges if you’d like, and remove any excess overhang. Using a fork, pierce rows of holes in the bottom, about an inch apart. Place in the fridge for 30 minutes.

6. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F, and line the chilled crust with a parchment round, then fill with dried beans or pie weights. Bake for 15 minutes.

7. Remove beans/ weights and parchment, and bake for additional 15-20 minutes until very lightly browned and even in color.

8. Set the shell aside while you prepare your filling.

To Make the Filling + Quiche:

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment. Place the asparagus spears on the baking sheet. Drizzle on 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, add s+p to taste, and toss together with your hands until asparagus is thoroughly coated. Roast for 12 minutes until tender and lightly browned in spots, turning the spears halfway through. Remove asparagus from the oven and allow to cool. Slice into ½-inch pieces and place in a bowl. Turn oven down to 350 degrees.

2. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat and add the sliced onions and fennel. Cook, stirring, until tender, ~ 5 minutes; season with salt and pepper. Remove from the heat. Transfer to the bowl with asparagus. Add parsley or other desired herbs and toss together.

3. Beat together the 2 yolks and 2 whole eggs in a medium bowl. Set the tart pan on a baking sheet and brush the bottom of the crust with some of the beaten egg, then place in the oven for 5 minutes.

4. Whisk your spices and milk into the eggs.

5. Remove the crust from the oven and evenly spread the onion, fennel, and asparagus over the bottom. Sprinkle the cheeses overtop. Slowly pour the egg mixture over the filling, until it reaches roughly 1/4” beneath the top edge of the crust (you may not need all of it to fill the shell and want to allow space for the custard to rise as it bakes). Top with a tsp of crushed pink peppercorns because why not?

6. Bake the quiche on the baking sheet for 30 to 35 minutes, until set and just beginning to turn golden on what should be a slightly puffed top. Remove from oven and let cool for at least 10 minutes. Enjoy.

Strawberry Fennel + pecorino salad, and living in the flow.

Scattered picking. The sad recognition that already another season has come to a close and yet again it feels as though I’ve missed the ripest fruits that could have come from falling behind, unrealized opportunities or unfulfilled plans.

I constantly seek affirmation in metaphors related to nature, ones that correspond to the weather, agriculture, even gardening tropes that one may expect to see printed on a floral mailbox cover at your grandmothers’ home (the ones that rotate to match the bulbs or blooms she’s planted beneath them accordingly as they appear).

In typical fashion, I found a way to tie the notice that there were no more strawberries left in the fields at any of my local u-pick farms for me to harvest as another way I’ve fallen short or behind in life, just another let down due to my self-proclaimed inability to stay on track.

In reading this all back it’s pretty ridiculous sounding, melodramatic, kind of funny, and a reminder that life isn’t really that bad- in fact it’s pretty amazing if all I have to worry about is finding a job I like and can add value towards as I figure out what I’m doing next now that I’m done with school. It’s a luxury to have such first world anxieties, but I guess it’s a balance of understanding relativity for each of our individual lives while also not taking ourselves too seriously and having a wider, global perspective.

A strawberry salad, with fennel and pecorino. And my favorite pink peppercorn and lemon. It’s delicious, and I plan to make it often, rotating the berries accordingly. The lesson I’m pulling to front of mind today for my self from the lack of ripe strawberries to pick at my local farm is that there is always another opportunity, method, or solution, and exercising creative flexibility is also freeing, more productive than worrying about the minutia. No one likes a tight-ass. Some people hate strawberries, so if we can sub sliced peaches into a summer salad rather than scattered berries, why are we so attached to the first iteration in the first place? The whole point is to create an enjoyable base recipe (or life plan), then be able to adjust to your preferences, environment, what’s currently available to you.

So maybe try this salad, or riff off it completely. If you take creative liberties on every ingredient expect one I’d say the raw fennel is a delicate and neutral pairing for just about everything, even melon! Remember your good seasoning of olive oil if you’re looking to make it more of a meal than a grazing snack, and some vinegar and spice never hurt anyone (expect for the flies in your diy ACV trap on the kitchen counter but we don’t have to talk about that here).

Happy summer friends. Enjoy seasonality, and never feel like you’re missing out or behind on life. We are all living in unique and exciting times, on various chapters, and experience each season differently than the next. Highs and lows, a rhythmic flow, makes for a more meaningful, fun time in the grand scheme of it all.

Ingredients

• 3 heads of endive, leaves separated

• 1 large bulb of fennel with fronds reserved

• 1 pint, or 2 cups of strawberries, hulled and thinly sliced

• 1/2 cup of shaved pecorino cheese

• 1/2 cup of raw pistachios, roughly chopped

• 1 tbsp Champagne vinegar or fresh lemon juice

• 3 tbsp olive oil + additional for drizzling

• 1 tsp raw honey

• salt + pepper to season

• 1 tsp crushed pink peppercorns for garnish (if desired)

Directions

1. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the olive oil, vinegar or lemon juice, honey, and salt + pepper.

2. Slice the fennel bulb in half, remove the tough core, and thinly with a mandoline. Set aside a few sprigs of the feathery fronds for latter.

3. Add the sliced fennel, sliced strawberries, and spears of endive to the large bowl with the vinegar and oil, then lightly toss to evenly coat. Transfer the salad to a serving platter.

4. Top the salad with the shaved pecorino and chopped pistachios, then drizzle lightly with extra olive oil. Season with salt + pepper. Garnish with reserved fennel fronds, and crushed pink peppercorns if desired.

Winter White Bean Dip

A creamy and fresh dip that fits perfectly into your holiday app rotation. I enjoy this dip as an entree in itself, served topped with sautéed red onion, pomegranate seeds, a chopped hard-boiled egg, and fennel fronds. Scoop up with toasted sourdough, or some crisp veggies.

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INGREDIENTS:

• One can of cooked Cannellini beans, rinsed and drained

• 2 tbsp full-fat plain Greek yogurt

• 1 tbsp tahini

• the juice of half a lemon

• 1 clove garlic, chopped

• heavy pinch of salt

• 1/4 tsp: cumin, celery seeds, chile powder

• 1 tsp of Peckish salt + pepitas seasoning (optional)

Toppings:

• 1/2 of a small red onion, sliced thinly

• 1 tbsp olive oil

• 1 clove garlic, sliced

• salt, pepper, and 1 tsp Peckish salt + pepitas seasoning

• one hard-boiled egg, chopped

• 1/4 cup pomegranate arils

• 1/4 cooked white beans

• sprinkle of ground pink peppercorn

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DIRECTIONS:

1. combine dip ingredients in a food processor till smooth.

2. to make toppings, sauté your red onions and garlic in a small cast iron pan over med-high heat with the olive oil and peckish seasonings till crispy and fragrant. Serve over top of the dip with the pomegranate seeds, extra beans, chopped egg, and leftover peckish seasoning.