Midweek pretties

I'm teaching my last summer class tomorrow morning, and mercifully, neither Olympic swimming nor women's gymnastics appear to be airing tonight (don't tell me if they are), so I'm hitting the sack, but...

a few pretty things as Wednesday comes to a close.

It never gets old- the plum tart. 

It never gets old- the plum tart. 

the lightly fried pattypan squash, round 2

the lightly fried pattypan squash, round 2

to say Oliver felt inspired by my plea to "make your bed" is an understatement!

to say Oliver felt inspired by my plea to "make your bed" is an understatement!

Y'all, my kumquats are growing. I'm beside myself. I've been waiting forever. Kumquat vibes, please!

Y'all, my kumquats are growing. I'm beside myself. I've been waiting forever. Kumquat vibes, please!

Lightly fried pattypan squash with brown butter corn and cotija

Earlier this week, I concocted a marvelous new dish whose star was a gorgeous white pattypan squash I grew in my garden. 

Most pattypans I come across in the DC area are the yellow-skinned variety. During the summertime, they're third in the quantity available line to yellow squash and green zucchini, all of which I usually grill or thinly shave and serve raw in a salad of sorts.

When I saw that those growing in my garden were the white-skinned version, I was reminded of those I've not seen since my childhood. Mom and Nanny cooked a lot of squash. Squash casserole, boiled squash, stuffed squash, lightly fried squash....White-skinned scalloped squash were prevalent in the summers, and Nanny and Mom sliced them into rounds, dipped them in an egg-milk mixture before dredging them in generously salted and peppered flour, and then frying them quickly in hot canola oil.

The batter was so light, barely clinging to the delicate squash. Parmesan grated over the top was the finishing touch. Mom would eat the slices straight from the paper towel-lined plate she'd transferred them to from the oil.

Long story short, this week when I sent Mom a photo of my blue ribbon squash, she reminded me of that old recipe, and I decided to take things just a step further by adding brown butter corn and chives, avocado and tomato slices, and grated Cotija cheese. 

It was an absolute hit, if I say so myself. A lovely way to take advantage of the season! You can find the recipe here

Old-school Em-i-lis

The past couple days have found me yearning for leisurely hours in the kitchen. It's been a long while, too long, since I've felt I had any significant amount of time to relax in there and play around. I miss it, and have noticed that when rushed, dinners become more chore than pleasure, and I cut culinary corners in ways I don't like. 

Our spring has, so far, been an awfully wet and chilly one. There have been glorious days of warmth -heat even!- and sunshine, promises of lemonade stands and relaxed evenings on the deck with a cold glass of wine. But by and large, those times have been elusive, and most days are still "pants and long-sleeve T's, boys" rather than shorts and sunblock ones.

That said, it's spring somewhere, and the produce of the glorious season is starting to roll our way. It's the right time for rhubarb, and those beautiful pink and green stalks are showing themselves at our local farmers markets as are greenhouse tomatoes and herbs and the earliest strawberries. Asparagus is in its prime.

At the grocery, fava bean pods glow green and swollen, and plums, peaches and apricots are finally being trucked in from places north of Chile!

Perhaps I should thank the mostly-gloomy days of the recent past, for they have offered me quick moments in which to steal to the markets and have then shooed me back inside when the rains return. During the latter periods, the beautiful beans and fruits and tomatoes and greens beckon to me, and I have gone to them.

Shelling beans is an always-pleasant task, meditative, productive and grounding. Favas and borlottis are my favorites to hull, because my reward is a bowl of vibrant green or cranberry-speckled beans that only nature could conjure. Favas beg to be smashed with mint and pecorino and olive oil and a squeeze of lemon, slathered atop grilled bread slicked with more oil. Nothing this beautiful can be anything but healthful or a pleasure to eat.

fava bean and mint crostini

fava bean and mint crostini

The smell of tomatoes alone is thrilling, but then the juicy pop of each orb's taut skin is the happiest salvo. The crisp crack of each asparagus spear's end breaking off at just the point that woody and fibrous gives way to silky and tender. 

the freshest pizza 

the freshest pizza 

All of these ingredients make such delicious dishes but without much effort; that is the gift of real, fresh, seasonal food.

velvet apricots

velvet apricots

Today, I made my black velvet apricot and Cognac jam. It is as delectable as it is pretty; looks rather like a jewel, really. I love recipes that freeze an ephemeral ingredient in time for later enjoyment. It's why I make mango butter even though straight-up mango, peeled and sliced, is our favorite way to enjoy them, especially the Ataulfo, or champagne, variety that comes out in late April each year.

I also made some old favorites this week including my farro with golden beets, candied pecans, feta and a sage-chive oil and oven-roasted rosemary salmon, and, perhaps most thrillingly, treated myself to this Meyer lemon tree on Mother's Day. I'm positively over the moon about it, and will feel equal parts Cher (from Clueless; remember when she reaches out of her father's office window to pick a fresh lemon for his tea?) and Martha Stewart when I pluck a fresh lemon from its boughs.

farro with golden beets, candied pecans, feta and chive-sage oil

farro with golden beets, candied pecans, feta and chive-sage oil

Now, if only the sun will come out a little bit more and help us all dry and grow and ready ourselves for the next marathon of cooking and growing and rooting, it'd be swell!