• From the garden

    Our garden is pathetic. Usually I’m harvesting all sorts of things and feeling semi-overwhelmed come mid-July, but this year I’m practically twiddling my thumbs. The basil plants are anorexic. The chard got eaten by something evil and microscopic. The beans are so measly I get mad just thinking about them.

    Even so, I managed to cook a garden meal last weekend. One zucchini, one yellow squash, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and three store-bought Romas. Working together, they pulled off dinner quite nicely.


    This is a roasted meal, one that calls for a hot oven, something I generally avoid over the July dinner hour, but we’ve had some blessedly cool evenings after those hellishly hot days last week—I even made a hot soup for supper one evening. The roasting method is quite delightful: the veggies slump in on their juicy selves, the edges caramelize, the cheesy, bready top creates crunch, and the olive oil binds it all together.


    My parents, popping in late Sunday night, ate the cold leftovers straight out of the pan. They seemed mighty pleased about it. In fact, my mom, after cramming an especially loaded fork-full into her mouth, yelled at the rest of us, “That’s it. I’m not eating anything else tonight. No more food!” This is what she does—loud public announcements, especially in regards to food—when her internal resolve can not withstand.

    Or maybe she was just fed up with me trying to foist all my leftovers on her.


    Pasta with Roasted Tomatoes and Summer Squash
    Adapted from The Wednesday Chef

    I think the original recipe needs twice as many veggies as it calls for, so I’m adjusting the proportions accordingly. If you prefer a less veggie-to-pasta ratio, reduce the veggies by half. (In the photo, it looks like there are plenty of vegetables but that’s because I, in a fit of greed, dug them out of the tangly pasta.)

    You can switch up the veggies if you like, but I think that in order to provide enough juiciness, half should be tomatoes, cherry or Roma, preferably. Also, I’m not sure on the exact poundage. I filled a 9 x 13 pan in a single layer; if you skip the scales and just cover the bottoms of two 9 x 13 pans with chopped vegetables, you’ll be fine.

    1 pound of cherry or Roma tomatoes, bite-sized pieces
    1 pound of summer squash (yellow and/or green), bite-sized pieces
    1 handful torn basil leaves
    2 cloves garlic, minced
    1/3 – 1/2 cup olive oil
    ½ cup bread crumbs
    ½ cup Parmesan cheese, shredded fine
    1 teaspoon salt
    ½ teaspoon black pepper
    1 pound spaghetti, or other pasta such as penne, fettuccini, etc.

    Divide the chopped vegetables, skin side down, between two 9 x 13 pans. Drizzle with some olive oil, perhaps a quarter cup.

    In a separate bowl, combine the bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese, garlic, salt, and pepper. Sprinkle over the vegetables.

    Bake the vegetables at 400 degrees for about twenty minutes, or until fork-tender. Remove from the oven and toss with the torn basil.

    While the vegetables are baking, cook the spaghetti according to package instructions. Drain.

    Combine the pasta and vegetables and toss with the rest of the olive oil. Add more salt and black pepper, if needed.

    Updated on August 2, 2010: Made this again, this time using 1 ½ pounds of cherry tomatoes. I stuffed them all into one 9 x 13 pan and they roasted up fine even though they were overlapping. The final tomato-pasta ratio was pretty good, but I still think it could have used more tomatoes, up to 2 pounds.


    It really truly is a wonderful dish.

    Updated August 17, 2010: This is soooooo delicious! We can’t get over how delicious it is! Like, REALLY delicious. I made it for supper tonight—two pounds of cherry tomatoes, no squash, one 9 x 13 pan. Didn’t bother to arrange the tomatoes in the pan skin-side down; just threw them in any which a-way. So easy and fast and—did I mention it yet?—DELICIOUS! I had three helpings and countless snitches post-dinner.

    About one year ago: A girlie outing
    About two years ago: The Baby Nickel, Cooked Oatmeal

  • Simple Bites: In the pits


    I’m over at Simple Bites today, talking about peaches and other stone fruits.

    I ordered four bushels of peaches this year, and two of nectarines. I’m always a little worried ahead of time, daunted by all the work I’m getting myself into. Then when the peaches show up, I get busy, and then when it’s all said and done, I’m just plain relieved and happy. It’s my annual peach ritual.

    Come to think of it, it’s my summer ritual, too.

    In honor of the peach, and a couple of her pit-y sisters, here are some recipes to make them shine.


    Apricots: Apricot Pandowdy, Apricot Honey Almond Cake, Preserving (drying and canning)


    Cherries: Roasted Cherry Vanilla Ice Cream with Dark Chocolate, Sour Cherry Crostatas, Three Reds Fruit Crumble


    Peaches: Canning, Peaches and Cream Ice Cream, Peach Tart

  • Gambling, and winning

    Please tell me I’m not the only one out there who compulsively buys strange/unusual/exotic ingredients. You don’t, eh? Well then, what about shoes? garden seeds? material? books? Come on, there’s gotta be something!

    For me it’s food. I’m not out for big thrills, mind you. Live baby octopus and corn mold aren’t what I’m talking about. But the little box of Indian spices that came in the mail today is right down my happiness alley. Dried Curry Leaves, Kalonji, Black Mustard Seeds, get ready to party!

    So often I, in a moment of passion, buy things I use only once, or, worse yet, not at all. Like the grape leaves I bought a year (or two?) ago and the block of hard cane sugar that’s been on my shelf for going on five years. Help, help me, Rhonda!

    But then I land on something so supremely delightful (Prosciutto dahling, let’s elope) that it makes all my expensive/useless purchases totally worth it. (In my opinion, not Mr. Handsome’s, but he’s not the author of this here blog.)

    You could say it’s a form of gambling, I suppose. An addiction to food discovery. Some might say I’m greedy, others would call me creative, and yet still others would say I’m an artist. I think I’m just a Curious George, minus the tail, when it comes to food.

    Anyway, back to last night’s thrilling dinner.

    Not that you knew I was talking about last night’s dinner before just now, but I was. So now you know. Anyway.

    I made peas with prosciutto.


    See, I was talking about dinner! I said, and I quote, “Prosciutto dahling, let’s elope.” So there.

    Anyway, I had bought a few ounces of prosciutto to smoosh into dried dates with gorgonzola (one of my tailless C.G. Adventures) and had a few slices leftover. I’m not one to gussy up my veggies—a salt shaker and boiling water is usually all I need—but then Molly posted this pea recipe and I had the prosciutto…

    It was worth it. Worth the five dollars for the meat and worth the heartache and suffering for the peas. (Well, maybe not the second part. Store bought peas aren’t as heinous as their icy green bean and corn counterparts.) The peas were all buttery and soft, and tossed with the wisps of salty ham—mm-mm good. Mr. Handsome had seconds (he’s not one to have seconds of vegetables); I had fourths.

    This dish won’t be showing up on my table any old day—it’s way too fancy and expensive for that. But I do think it might have just earned rights to hang out next to the mashed potatoes and gravy come next Thanksgiving.


    Peas with Prosciutto
    Adapted from Molly’s blog Orangette

    The recipe I’m posting here is more or less the same as Molly’s. However, I recommend, for the sake of pinching pennies, doubling the peas while keeping the prosciutto the same (increase the other ingredients accordingly).

    2 cups (1 pound) peas, fresh or frozen
    3 tablespoons butter
    ½ cup minced white onion
    1 clove garlic, minced
    salt
    black pepper
    2 ½ ounces prosciutto

    Melt the butter in a pan, add the onion and garlic, and saute for several minutes—do not let the veggies brown. Add the peas and simmer for ten minutes, stirring every now and then. Tear the prosciutto into little pieces (do not stack and cut like I did—they stay stuck thataway) and add them to the pan. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Turn the heat off, lid, and allow to sit for another five minutes. Taste to correct seasonings. Serve warm.

    One year ago: Counting Chicks
    Two years ago: Red Beet Salad with Caramelized Onions and Feta