Miso Happy: Creamy Miso Vinaigrette

Oil and vinegar. Oil and lemon. Oil and balsamic. Mustard vinaigrette on lively greens tossed for the briefest amount of time possible and showered with crunchy salt.

These dressings make a regular appearance at our table, but every now and then I crave the kind of tangy, smooth and creamy dressings I grew up with. My mother's recipe was based on my grandmother's go-to standard, which started with mayonnaise and a squirt of ketchup—an ingredient almost as ubiquitous as cream of mushroom soup in my mom's repertoire—plus a sprinkle of thyme and basil with a pinch of garlic powder, thinned with a splash of milk.

So when I've got some sturdy heads of romaine, escarole or chicories that can stand up to heftier dressings, my thoughts turn to Caesar dressings loaded with anchovy or, lately, miso mixed with mayonnaise (hey Mom!), studded with garlic and a dollop of mustard.

A small Portland-based miso company, Jorinji, makes authentic red and white unpasteurized miso from non-GMO soybeans fermented from six months to three years. Jorinji products are widely available at area supermarkets and last basically forever in the fridge. A little goes a long way, so get some and add a subtle hint of fabulous umami to your marinades, stir-fries, soups and braises.

This vinaigrette can also double as a dip for vegetables and fried foods, or as a drizzle over meats, fish and roasted veggies, and it's a splashy twist on a traditional coleslaw dressing.

Creamy Miso Vinaigrette

3 Tbsp. mayonnaise
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 clove garlic, pressed in a garlic press
1 Tbsp. white miso
Herbs, finely chopped (I like tarragon or thyme as well as some chopped chives)
1 tsp. honey (optional)

Combine ingredients and stir until smooth.

Salad Smackdown: Nectarine and Cherry Salad

Ginger Rapport's newsletters for the Beaverton Farmers Market are worth getting for the information and recipes she shares (click here to subscribe). Her deep knowledge of produce shines through, helped by her passion for cooking and education. Here she talks about the luscious Northwest peaches and nectarines tumbling into midsummer markets.

What is the difference between a peach and a nectarine? They are genetically almost the same with the exception of one gene, the one that determines if it will have a fuzzy or smooth skin. A nectarine is basically a bald peach. They may be used interchangeably in recipes but as far as fresh eating goes, people can have strong opinions about which is best. Many people prefer nectarines because they don’t like the fuzz on a peach. It is more of a textural thing than it is about taste. However, nectarines tend to be firmer, sweeter and more aromatic than their fuzzy cousins.

To peel or not to peel?

Both peaches and nectarines come in “freestone” varieties, which means that the fruit separates easily from the pit and “clingstone” varieties where the flesh clings tightly to the pit. Freestones are better for freezing while clingstones are better for canning.

If you are making a recipe that calls for removing the skin of a peach or nectarine, we recommend the following method:

With a paring knife, make a small "X" in the skin on the bottom of the fruit. Then drop it into a large pot of boiling water for 10-20 seconds. You may do multiple fruits at a time as long as you are able to get them all out of the boiling water within a few seconds of one another. You want to loosen the skin, not cook the fruit.

Roasted nectarines, anyone?

Immediately place fruit in a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. Starting at the X on the bottom, lift the skin away from the fruit. It should peel easily if your fruit is ripe. If your fruit is under-ripe, peeling will be more difficult and may require a paring knife. (This is also how you peel tomatoes.)

Peach and nectarine season has a very small window where it overlaps with cherry season. One of our favorite—and totally easy—recipes that features both is this nectarine and cherry salad with roasted hazelnuts featuring Baird Family Orchards nectarines, Kiyokawa Family Orchards Bing cherries, and Ken and June's dry roasted hazelnuts.

Nectarine and Cherry Salad with Roasted Hazelnuts

1 1/2 lbs. nectarines (yellow or white) sliced
1 1/2 c. Bing cherries, pitted and halved
1/2 c. roasted hazelnuts, roughly chopped

Combine all ingredients (reserving some chopped nuts) in a bowl and toss. Garnish with remaining hazelnuts.

Click here to get more fabulous peach (or nectarine) recipes for desserts, jams, salads and even cocktails! The Beaverton Farmers Market is an advertiser and supporter of Good Stuff NW.

Dress for Success: Avocado Caesar Dressing

As often happens around here, this recipe started with leftovers: half an avocado from lunch and a few filets of anchovies floating in their jar in the fridge, a lemon that had been zested to death sitting in the bin, a few heads of Little Gem lettuces from Groundwork Organics I'd bought at the farmers' market last weekend. Plus scads of blooming chives waving at me from the herb bed.

Dave was jonesing to light the grill, and had bought some gorgeous Carman Ranch pasture-raised top sirloin steaks to throw on for dinner. So, since nothing pairs with medium-rare beef better than a hefty Caesar salad, I decided to try my luck with a from-scratch Caesar dressing using that avocado. Mayonnaise-y emulsified dressings are always a little fraught for me even with a recipe, since I've had a few that never "emulsed" (is that a word?) and remained a watery mess in the processor.

My favorite easy Caesar dressing is one from the classic Silver Palate Cookbook, so I adapted its basic proportions and crossed my fingers as I drizzled the olive oil into the processor's feed tube. And voila, the magic worked! Drizzled over those Little Gems and garnished with scattered chive blossoms, it looked—an tasted—fabulous. Next time I may not wait until I have the leftovers gathered to make it!

Avocado Caesar Dressing

1/2 avocado
1 egg yolk
1 lg. clove garlic
1/2 tsp salt
6 anchovy filets
1/4 c. lemon juice
1 c. olive oil
2 Tbsp. chopped chives
Freshly ground pepper, to taste
Chive blossoms (optional)

Place avocado, egg yolk, garlic, salt, anchovy filets and lemon juice in bowl of food processor and process briefly to combine. While processor is on, drizzle olive oil in a thin stream through the feed tube until it emulsifies. Pour out into medium mixing bowl and stir in chopped chives and freshly ground pepper. Toss dressing with salad greens and garnish with chive blossoms.

In Season: Check Out Chicories!

In the most recent Beaverton Farmers Market newsletter, market manager Ginger Rapport shared a comprehensive compendium of one of my favorite winter salad greens—though some tend to the reddish end of the spectrum. Their slightly bitter edge can be mitigated by soaking the chopped leaves in cold water for a couple of hours ahead of time, a trick I learned from Nostrana's Cathy Whims. Scroll down for a fantastic and slightly sweet dressing to serve on a salad of these lovelies.

Chicories are closely related to lettuces, but are heartier and have a bitter edge. They are cool weather crops that come into season in late fall and some are starting to appear in our grower’s stalls. They include Belgian endive, curly endive, escarole and radicchio.

Belgian endive.

Belgian Endive is grown indoors, in the dark, to maintain the extremely pale yellow, almost white, tightly packed head of leaves. Red Belgian Endive is technically a small, forced radicchio. They can be used interchangeably with traditional Belgian Endive.

Curly Endive (a.k.a. Frisée) has tightly closed, frizzy heads most commonly used in salads but it is also tasty when quickly sautéed with a bit of vinegar, such as sherry vinegar or balsamic.

Escarole.

Escarole is crunchy, green and bitter. It stands up to bold dressings in salads but is also good grilled or broiled for a powerful accompaniment to roasted or grilled meats, and is fabulous creamed or in soups.

Radicchio, possibly the most well-known chicory, grows in small heads that are brilliant magenta. It is often used in salads but also shines when cooked a bit. It pairs particularly well with assertive ingredients such as olives, blue cheese, apples, figs and walnuts.

Speckled Radicchio is a cross between radicchio and escarole. It has a mild flavor with delicate leaves that can be used in salads but is sturdy enough to stand up to a little cooking.

Arch Cape chicory from Ayers Creek Farm.

Treviso Radicchio is similar in flavor to regular radicchio but is a little sweeter and grows in longer, looser-leafed heads. One unusual type, developed from an Italian variety and available locally in early March, is the Arch Cape chicory developed by Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm. Use treviso leaves in salads. Whole heads can be quartered and lightly grilled, or even stuffed and sautéed.

Fig Balsamic Salad Dressing

1/3 c. balsamic vinegar
1/3 c. olive oil
1 Tbsp. fresh chopped shallots
6 small brown turkey figs
4 tsp. honey, or to taste
1/8-1/4 tsp. salt, or to taste

Put all ingredients in a blender and blend on high until emulsified.

Top photo of chicories from Flying Coyote Farm at the Hollywood Farmers Market. List of chicories was distilled and edited from The Spruce Eats.

Corn Salad: Distillation of Late Summer

It was going to be a perfect summer evening, I just knew it. There was an invitation from friends for a dinner on their patio, along with a demonstration after the meal of their newly installed gas fire pit. Grilled pork loin with a guajillo chile sauce was the focus, and when I asked what we could contribute, our host requested a vegetable side dish.

Sweet corn has been on my mind lately, and I pondered the possibilities. A corn pudding, perhaps? But a quinoa salad was already on the menu, so no. But a corn salad? Now there was something to chew on. Recently my brother had a made a salad to go with a grilled paella—albacore, raw corn sliced fresh off the cob and lettuce dressed with light vinaigrette—that had entranced me. And so many of the Mexican dishes that caught my eye while browsing my collection of Diana Kennedy's cookbooks had combinations of right-from-the-field vegetables caught at their peak of ripeness.

So I hit the market and bought whatever seemed to be almost jumping off the tables and into my basket, begging me to bring them home. Again, a simple spritz of lime juice, a splash of olive oil and a showering of salt was all they needed to shine, plus a super-simple avocado crema to serve alongside adding a certain sumptuousness, and my vegetable side was good to go.

Despite a last-minute (but welcome) rain shower just before we arrived, the evening was perfection. And the fire pit? Worked like a charm as we sipped our dessert wine and watched Jupiter transit the twilight sky over the Coast Range.

Corn Salad with Avocado Crema

For the corn salad:
1 15-1/2 oz. can black beans, drained and rinsed
4 ears corn, kernels sliced fresh off the cob
1/2 red onion, halved lengthwise and slivered crosswise
1/2 large cucumber, seeded and diced, or two small Persian cucumbers, chopped
1 large ripe tomato, chopped (about 2 c.)
1 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed lime juice
1 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt to taste

For the avocado crema:
1 c. milk
1 clove garlic
2 avocados
2 Tbsp. lime juice
1 c. sour cream
Salt to taste

In a large mixing bowl combine the black beans, corn kernels, onion, cucumber and tomato. Pour in the lime juice and olive oil and stir gently to mix.

In the bowl of a food processor pour in the milk and add the garlic, avocados and lime juice. Process until completely smooth, scraping down the sides as necessary to incorporate all the ingredients. Add sour cream and pulse until just mixed, then add salt to taste.

The crema makes almost four cups, which is more than enough to serve a small amount alongside the salad, but it is also spectacular as a dip for chips or in tacos or burritos. It'll keep for at least a week stored in the fridge, so don't be afraid to make the whole batch. (It can also be halved if you don't want to make the whole amount.)

Squash Chronicles: Black Futsu Salad with Radicchio

It's all squash, all the time here at Good Stuff NW…or so you might surmise from the preponderance of Oscar-worthy starring roles that winter squash has been playing in recent posts.

Much of the blame for this cucurbit-heavy obsession can be laid at the feet of the fellow in the video above, the estimable Chef Tim Wastell and his henchperson/enabler Lane Selman of the Culinary Breeding Network, I'm happy to share the results of their collaboration here.

Get the recipe for the Black Futsu Salad with Radicchio above, and check out the rest of the Squash Chronicles.

Salad Smackdown: BLT Salad!

When the heat of summer hits and tomato season finally rolls around, one of my favorite summer salads-for-dinner is a big ol' panzanella. Starting with a triumvirate of stale bread, juicy tomatoes—especially those squishy super ripe ones that have been sitting on the counter a little long—and leafy green lettuce, then tossed with any other garden veg you have (cucumber, beans, you name it) and dressing, it's dinner in a bowl! Here contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food adds his two cents-worth.

BLT Salad

I ate the first tomatoes from my garden this week, and I've got another week before a lot more will be ripe. But it's officially tomato season in Portland (almost always toward the end of August). Here's one way to add even more tomato-y goodness to your plate. (If you're not growing any, look for the dry-farmed Early Girls at New Seasons; they taste like home-grown tomatoes.)

To make this more than just a tomato salad with bacon, start by toasting the bread in bacon fat. Cook about a quarter pound of good bacon until it's crispy. Set the bacon aside and add a couple of handfuls of cubed bread to the bacon fat. If there's not enough to really coat the bread, add some extra virgin olive oil. Toast the bread on the stovetop or in the oven until it's lightly browned.

Chop a few tomatoes into bite-sized pieces, shred some iceberg lettuce—unfairly maligned but perfect for this; you could use romaine if you can't get past your iceberg prejudice—and crumble the bacon. Stir together about a quarter cup of good mayo, 2 tablespoons each of Katz Gravenstein apple cider vinegar [regular cider vinegar works, too] and extra virgin olive oil, and 3 tablespoons buttermilk. [I added a tablespoon of Dijon mustard just 'cause] Combine everything and toss well with flor de sal and freshly ground black pepper. BLT in a bowl!

See more Salad Smackdown recipes for easy salads with big, bold flavors.

Salad Smackdown: Cauliflower and Grain FTW!

It's like I was walking up a steep trail in the woods and suddenly came across a pristine pool underneath a sparkling waterfall. Hot and sweaty from the exertion, what could I do but dive in?

Some recipes are like that, in that they provide an jumping-off place for an unexpected and often refreshing experience. Jim Dixon's cauliflower with Meyer lemon relish, which chef Alice Waters (of Chez Panisse fame) based on an Italian gremolata, was like that for me. I'd made it several times to raves here at our house, as well as when I took it as a side dish to friend's homes.

The lemon relish.

Its lemony tingle is fantastic with Meyer lemons when they're in season, but regular lemons serve almost as well. And preserved lemon, minced into tiny shards, takes it to another level with their zesty, salty tang. It was the preserved lemon version that first had me pondering adding grain to the mix, so the next time I added frikeh, the smoky, parched wheat from Ayers Creek Farm that had been cooked to toothy perfection.

Dave was smoking a ten-pound behemoth of a brisket for Memorial Day, so I thought that the cauliflower with frikeh would add an additional smoky note to the ensemble (which included my mother's potato salad and grilled asparagus). There happened to be chive blossoms going nuts in the garden, so a few of those were plucked and sprinkled about.

While I feel like this particular recipe has come to a nice resting point, I'd love to hear if you discover a sparkling pool hidden in its depths.

Grain and Cauliflower Salad with Lemon Relish

8 oz. uncooked grain (frikeh, farro or barley come to mind)
1 head cauliflower, leaves trimmed but stalk left intact
1/2 to 3/4 preserved lemon, minced
1 shallot, minced (about 3 Tbsp.)
1/4 c. chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 Tbsp. chopped chives
1 Tbsp. rice vinegar
3 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt to taste
Chive blossoms to garnish (optional)

Bring a medium pot of water to boil. Add the grain and reduce heat to simmer. Cook for about 30 minutes until al dente (or to your liking) but definitely don't let it get mushy. Drain in a colander and run cold water through it to stop the cooking and cool it quickly.

Drop a whole head of cauliflower into a pot of salted boiling water. Pull it out after 3 minutes and let it cool. Make the relish by putting the minced lemon into a large salad bowl and combining with the shallot, parsley, chives, vinegar and olive oil. Let this sit for a few minutes while you chop the cauliflower into small florets (use the core, too, just chop it into smaller pieces). Toss the cauliflower and the grain with the relish, adding salt to taste. Garnish with chive blossoms, if using. Serve cold or at room temperature.

See the rest of the Salad Smackdown series—winners all!

Peach Season? Make Salad!

A simple salad made from the freshest summer ingredients is always a good idea on toasty summer days when you want something cool and refreshing but don't want to cook. Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food goes classic-with-a-twist in this panzanella featuring fresh peaches.

Peach Panzanella

I came home from the weekend farmers' market with more peaches than I could eat, thanks to my friend Trevor from Baird Family Orchards. I'll be making some desserts soon, but first a savory twist using peaches instead of tomatoes in the classic Tuscan bread salad called panzanella. Like tomatoes, peaches are both sweet and acidic, and they can often be used where you might find tomatoes.

The thrifty Italians don't let anything edible go to waste, and panzanella was traditionally made with hard, stale bread soaked in water to soften, then squeezed to a soft pulp. I prefer to use fresh or slightly stale bread that's grilled or toasted, then cut into small cubes. It'll eventually soften as it absorbs the liquids in the salad.

You'll need roughly one peach for each slice of bread, maybe 4 of each for a salad to feed four to six people. But first thinly slice a red onion and soak it in a couple of tablespoons of Katz red wine vinegar [regular red wine vinegar works, too]. Cut the bread in to half-inch cubes, the peaches into bite-sized pieces. Tear or slice a good handful of basil leaves into thin strips. Combine everything in a large bowl, add a generous amount (maybe four tablespoons) of extra virgin olive oil, a light pinch of salt (unlike Tuscan bread, ours will add some salt, so taste before adding) and some freshly ground black pepper. Mangia.

The "L" Word: Leftover Salmon Makes a Salad

Salmon season is in high gear with wild Chinook and Sockeye salmon and their cousin, the Steelhead (really a large trout), running in the Columbia River. Out in the ocean there are Pacific Ocean King and Ivory King, both Chinook salmon, being troll-caught off our coast, with Kenai Red—a Sockeye that is new to me—and Coho being hauled onto the doughty fleet of boats in Alaska's Pacific waters. (I know this because Lyf Gildersleeve of Flying Fish Company shared the salmon update in his latest newsletter.)

Kenai Red salmon.

The other evening Dave had smoked a luscious fillet of Kenai Red that I'd been given as a sample from the Kenai Red Fish Company, which offers a subscription—instead of CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) it's called a CSF (Community Supported Fishery)—for a season's share of the salmon caught in the Cook Inlet near Homer, Alaska.

There were a couple of cups of the fillet left over from dinner, so I put it away thinking I might throw it into a chowder or use it for a batch of salmon cakes in the coming week. Then, when my brother asked us over for dinner a couple of nights later I queried him about what we could contribute. He said, "How about an appetizer?"

Hmmmm…

The ingredients, pre-tossing.

That's when I remembered the salmon I'd stowed in the fridge, and after rummaging in the vegetable bin I came up with half a fennel bulb, some green onions and two local yellow plums. Maybe a fresh, crunchy salad to put on crackers or crostini would fit the bill.

Salmon Salad

2-3 c. leftover salmon, flaked
1/2 med. bulb fennel, sliced thinly
1 Tbsp. fennel fronds, chopped
2 med. plums, halved and sliced thinly
1-2 Tbsp. capers
2 green onions, sliced thinly
3 Tbsp. pine nuts, toasted
2 Tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1/2 lemon, added to taste
Salt, to taste

Put salmon, fennel, fennel fronds, plums, capers, green onions and pine nuts in large mixing bowl. Drizzle olive oil over the ingredients and add half of lemon juice. Toss gently to combine but don't break up the salmon too much. Adjust lemon juice and add salt to taste.

This would be a great lunch salad or light entrée served on a bed of fresh-from-the-garden (or farmers' market) lettuce. It would also be terrific combined with pasta or a cooked grain like farro, barley or parched green wheat (frikeh).

Fleeting Pleasures: Fava Bean Salad

I got a text from neighbor. It read, "Want some Fava beans?"

I immediately texted back, "You betcha!"

A few minutes later I was standing in his back yard with a grocery bag watching him shelling some English peas—this guy is a consummate home gardener—and we chatted until he finished. Then he handed me at least a three-pound bag of luscious pods bulging with those brilliantly green early summer treats.

I was about to thank him and leave when he asked, "Could you use some fennel? I've got lots."

"You betcha!" I answered.

Fava Bean Salad

3+ lb. fava bean pods
2 cloves garlic
1/4 c. fresh mint, minced
1 serrano pepper, seeded and minced
Juice of 1 lemon
1/4 c. olive oil
Salt to taste

Bring a large pot of well-salted water to boil. Put the pods—remove any debris or leaves and separate any that are attached—in the boiling water, allow it to return to a boil, then reduce heat to a good simmer for 15-20 minutes. Drain and run cold water over them to cool until you can handle them easily.

Split the pods open and remove the beans. If the beans are large, the skins around them may be woody, so taste one with the skin on first. I removed the skins from around the larger beans but left them on the smaller ones—they add a nice flavor and it'll endear you to any Italians in the crowd. Put all the beans into a mixing bowl with the rest of the ingredients and stir to combine. Adjust lemon juice, olive oil and salt to taste.

Salad Smackdown: Raw Brussels Sprouts Are Hot!

Brussels sprouts are apparently experiencing a moment of mad popularity. I'm seeing recipes calling for them popping up everywhere, except maybe in desserts, though I wouldn't be surprised to see some celebrity chef trying to convince us all that they're terrific when added to cheesecake. Really!

I was browsing the produce section of my supermarket the other day and saw bags of shredded sprouts (left) sitting atop a pile of the unshaved version and thought, wow, I wish I'd thought of that. One of my favorite salads has shaved brussels sprouts spiked with lots of lemon, shards of olives and minced anchovies. But trimming and shredding all those sprouts takes a lot of time…not that it stops me from making it, but with all that knife-work it definitely increases the opportunities for whining.

I've served this salad alongside grilled meats and fish with rave reviews, and, like slaws, it makes for terrific leftover greens a day or two later when the sprouts are wilted and infused with the lemon dressing.

Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad with Lemon and Olives

3-4 c. shaved brussels sprouts
10 castelvetrano olives, pitted and roughly chopped
3-6 anchovies, minced
3-4 Tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon or chopped preserved lemons
Salt to taste

If you can't find bags of shaved brussels sprouts in your store's produce section, trim and halve whole brussels sprouts, then slice crosswise into very fine chiffonade. Place the shaved sprouts in a large salad bowl and add the olives, anchovies (start with the lesser number and add to taste), olive oil and lemon juice. Toss, adding salt to taste.

Check out these other recipes in the Salad Smackdown series!

Nopales, a Mexican Staple, Arrives in Oregon Markets

The other day I was at the farmers' market and was delighted to see a vendor displaying a basket of cactus paddles, called "nopales." Terrific in salsas and stews, they also go well with eggs and in salads. The following essay by Jodi Monroy, Director of Mixta Words and staffer at the Beaverton Farmers Market, is reprinted from the most recent market newsletter.

Nopales

Nopales (cactus paddles) are a staple food in parts of arid Mexico but not so much here in the Pacific Northwest, so we were amazed to find some at Denison Farms last week!  We love it when our farmers are innovative and push the agricultural limits. It makes the culinary possibilities so exciting.  And the very best part: Denison Farms sells them already de-spined! Trust me, that is a really good thing.

Nopales are traditionally used in Ensalada de Nopales (Cactus Salad) and then eaten as a side dish or pico de gallo-style. Ensalada de Nopales makes a unique topping for tacos or mixed with eggs for breakfast. Nopales' flavor has been described as almost like a green bean. Don’t be put off by the slippery texture or “baba” en español (like Okra)—it will dissipate as the nopales cook.

Classic recipes for Ensalada de Nopales almost always include lots of garlic and cilantro, like this one adapted from La Cocina De Leslie.

Ensalada de Nopales

1 lb. of nopales (cactus paddles), washed and sliced or chopped in 1/4" dice
1 bunch cilantro in two parts, half on the stem and half de-stemmed and chopped fine
3 cloves garlic
2 roma tomatoes, chopped
1/2 med. onion, chopped
1-2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
Juice of 1 lime
Salt

There are two ways to cook cactus paddles for Ensalada de Nopales. The traditional way of cooking nopales is to boil the cactus in water to cover in a medium saucepan with cilantro sprigs, garlic and a couple of pinches of salt for about 30 minutes. When done, fish out the cilantro sprigs and garlic and discard. Using a strainer, let the nopales sit until all of the liquid drains away.

The second method is one which reduces the amount of “baba” (gooey liquid) that the nopales release. Put the sliced or chopped cactus paddles in a non-stick skillet with the cilantro sprigs, garlic and a couple pinches of salt, without any water at all. Cover and cook over low heat. Within minutes the nopales will start to release their own liquid, which is plenty to completely cook the nopales. Continue to simmer over low heat, stirring occasionally, until all of the liquid has been absorbed and the nopales are completely cooked with very little to no “baba” (gooey liquid). Discard the cilantro sprigs and garlic.

And now for the ensalada: gently mix together the cactus, chopped onion, tomato and the chopped portion of the cilantro. Toss with vegetable oil and lime juice and season lightly with salt. ¡Provecho!

Top photo by Diógenes el Pacífico/Flickr.

The Pleasures of Summer: Grilled Corn Salad

Everyone who knows me knows that I love my freezer. Small but mighty, our little upright can hold the butchered meat from a half pig and a whole lamb, a five-gallon bucket of blackberries, a dozen jars of freezer jam and the zip-locked bags (and bags and bags…) of roasted tomatoes that will see us through the winter.

The tomatoes that I thaw for sauces and braising this winter will conjure memories of the heat of summer, when I stood in the kitchen, knife in hand, chopping the big, heart-shaped astiana tomatoes into chunks to roast over a smoky fire. The berries, baked into cobblers and crisps on cold, rainy nights, will remind me of the taste of those same berries, popped fresh from the canes into my mouth, bursting with warm juice.

But, delicious as they are, they're still just stand-ins for the genuine articles that are flooding into local farmers' markets even as you read this. (Seriously, there are 60 farmers' markets in the metro area going on seven days a week during harvest season!) So I can only encourage you to go out and stuff yourself with tomatoes, corn, tomatillos, berries and melons to cement their height-of-the-season flavor in your mind, the better to reminisce over their flavors this winter, and look forward to their coming again next summer.

Grilled Corn Salad

6 ears of corn
1/2 red onion, chopped fine
2 dozen or so cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 c. olive oil
Juice of 1 lime
1-2 cloves garlic, pressed through garlic press (1-2 tsp.)
1/2 c. finely chopped cilantro
Salt to taste

Optional add-ins:
Cooked, crumbled bacon
One cucumber, peeled, seeded and chopped into 1/4" cubes
One red bell pepper, chopped fine
Red pepper flakes

Build a fire in your grill. Shuck the corn, remove silks and break off end stalks. Place corn over a hot bed of coals, turning when the side facing the coals turns dark brown. (You can also boil the corn if you want.) When corn is done, cool slightly and stand ear upright, thick end down, on cutting board. Run sharp knife from the top to the bottom of the ear, cutting off the kernels. (Save the shaved cobs for making stock.)

In large salad bowl, combine all salad ingredients and toss. The salad will be better if allowed to stand at room temperature for an hour or so to allow the flavors to combine, so it's great to make ahead if you're grilling steaks or meats…just grill the corn first and make the salad.

Find more corn and tomato salad recipes, one from Jim Dixon and one from Mark Bittman.

That Weed In Your Yard? It's the New Superfood.

For years I'd been battling the red-stemmed, succulent-like weed with the fat, oval leaves, wondering what in the heck kind of invader it was. It wasn't particularly hard to pull out, but it was pretty darn persistent, coming back every year like those door-to-door fundraising dudes with their clipboards. I'd seen it in other people's yards, too, even growing out of the most inhospitable cracks in the sidewalk.

Purslane in a grain salad.

Then, out at Ayers Creek Farm one day, I saw its familiar shape and made some kind of smart remark to Anthony Boutard about needing to do a better job weeding his rows. First, never mention weeds to an organic farmer…the plant you're pointing at might be a valuable nitrogen-fixing cover crop for soil improvement or be providing shade for a sprout that's just peeking out of the soil. He informed me that the "weed" I was disparaging was purslane, one of the bonus crops he sells at the farmers' market, along with other field greens like chickweed, lamb's quarters and more.

Purslane in buttermilk soup.

In Theo's, a Greek restaurant in the town of Penticton in British Columbia's Okanagan wine region, I saw purslane offered as a salad on the menu and pointed it out to Dave. The owner overheard us, and came over to tell the remarkable story of how his mother, Mary Theodosakis, was walking through a farmer's field and saw it growing under a plant in one of his rows. Having grown up foraging the plant called glistritha in her native Crete, she asked the surprised farmer if she could take some to serve at her restaurant. Long story short, the farmer started growing it just for her and then, when her customers began asking where they could buy some, he began growing it as a cash crop. (Full story here.)

Crunchy when fresh, with a mild, lemony flavor, it's most often used in salads, either as the main ingredient or combined with other greens and grains—try this terrific main dish recipe for tuna, grain and purslane salad. My friend Linda Colwell follows Deborah Madison's lead and includes it in a buttermilk and frikeh soup. Anthony likes to do a quick and easy pickled purslane (recipe below) that keeps in the fridge and can be featured on an antipasto platter or as an accompaniment to grilled meats.

Incredibly high in omega-3 fatty acids—more than any other vegetable—it's also a great source of beta-Carotene, with five times the vitamin E of spinach, according to an article by my friend Leslie Kelly. No wonder it's starting to get some buzz as the new Superfood.

Pickled Purslane
From Anthony Boutard at Ayers Creek Farm

Our staff keeps a nice kitchen garden outside of their front doors. For them, the plants they call verdolagas are an essential green. They are delicious boiled, sautéed, pickled or as a salad. The Lebanese serve them with yoghurt. The French salt purslane overnight before adding it to a salad. Boiled, it can be dressed with a bit of olive oil and ground pepper. Or mix the wilted leaves into a potato salad.

For us, purslane is an essential pickle. Many books suggest pickling just the stem. We prefer to pickle the whole shoot—leaves and stem together. This recipe works for two or three bags of purslane:

We heat and add a tablespoon of salt to 1-1/2 cups of water, then mix in an equal amount of white wine vinegar.  Add a few cloves of garlic, quartered, a tablespoon of peppercorns and a dried pepper.  Drop the purslane into the heated vinegar mixture and let it wilt for a bit.  Pack the purslane and vinegar mix in a mason jar. If you need to, top off with vinegar and water in equal proportions. Store in the refrigerator. We start using them about an hour later, but they will keep for several months.  Some recipes call for full strength vinegar, but we much prefer it diluted.

How Panzanella Solved My Bread Problem

I have a bread problem. Not that many people would feel much sympathy for my situation. You see, my husband has become a bread maven. He might even be tiptoeing along the edge of evangelism, such is his passion for his newfound calling. At least twice people have shown up at our doorstep to be shown "the way"—actually Chad Robertson of Tartine Bread's way—of producing perfect artisan loaves in a home oven.

How could this be a problem?

Now, in his defense, I have to say I've been encouraging this discipleship every step of the way. The guy has a definite touch with flour, water and salt, and when you throw in a natural tendency toward tinkering plus a creative bent, that's pretty much the definition of a baker. So every two weeks for quite awhile now he's been making six loaves of sourdough, interrupted only by a trip out of town or summer temperatures soaring into the 90s.

Our five-year-old nephew spent the night last week, and his first question before being taken to daycare the next morning was, "Does Uncle Dave have any bread I can take with me?" He was comforted only by the promise that yes, indeed, Uncle Dave would bake bread for him in a couple of days. Oh, the obligations!

A perfect (and delicious) solution.

So the problem comes when one of those loaves is brought to the bread board. Being artisan-style loaves, when sliced there's always the rounded bit at the end that ends up, if it's not eaten immediately, sitting on the board and getting stale. Big deal, you say. But multiply that over dozens and dozens of loaves and you've got quite a pile of bits.

I've been chopping them up into cubes, drying them completely and then freezing them in bags, but I just don't make that many croutons for salads. And I utterly refuse to toss them out—there's nothing worse than wasted bread karma, believe me.

Then the other day, needing to make a salad for dinner and having some ripe, heirloom tomatoes on hand, I hit on the perfect solution: panzanella! I don't think of it often, since it needs tomatoes that only come at this time of year, perfectly ripe, not-too-hard, not-too-soft and terrifically flavorful. And I wasn't sure the rock-hard cubes would absorb enough of the juices to soften up to just the right consistency.

But I threw it together anyway, chopping up a little cucumber and some basil from my neighbor who couldn't use all that was in her CSA share. And you know, those dried crusty bread ends turned into luscious tomato juice bombs and solved my bread problem, at least for the duration of tomato season. What could I say but hallelujah!

Panzanella, Italian-Style Tomato-Bread Salad

For the dressing:
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
2/3 c. olive oil
2 cloves garlic, pressed through a garlic press or minced fine
1 tsp. salt

For the salad:
4 c. bread, 2 or 3 days old, cut into 1/2” cubes
4-6 c. tomatoes, chopped in 1/2” cubes
1/2 c. basil, sliced into chiffonade
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
1 cucumber, peeled and seeded, cut into 1/4” cubes
1/2 c. kalamata olives, pitted and chopped (optional)
Salt to taste

In medium mixing bowl whisk dressing ingredients together. Set aside.

Put salad ingredients in a large salad bowl. Pour dressing over the top and combine thoroughly. Allow to stand 20-30 minutes before serving (an hour if the bread is very dry), mixing occasionally to distribute the juices.

Romanesco: Math in Your Mouth

The first time I saw a head of romanesco I was blown away. The shapes! The color! My discovery happened to coincide with my son's fascination with Benoit Mandelbrot and his work in fractal geometry, so of course I had to grab one to take home. Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food shares a recipe for this fractal food that will impress your family with its flavor as well as its beauty.

The bright green, fractal cones of romanesco broccoli look like something from Dr. Suess, and I like to preserve the shapes when I serve this striking member of the cabbage family. It's often called a cauliflower, but the flavor is a bit more delicate, a bit less cabbage-y. There are big, purple-tinged heads at the farmers market right now, examples of overwintered vegetables that thrive here in the maritime northwest. Inspired by Sicilian cauliflower salad called rinforzata (literally reinforced, invoking the addition of pantry staples to make more of the humble Brassica), this version combines crunch, salt, sweet, and sour.

Insalata di Romanesco Broccoli con Noce

Drop the whole head of romanesco, including the stem and leaves, if any, into a pot of well-salted boiling water; pull it out after about 4 minutes, drain and cool. Use the tip of a small knife to cut of the Fibonacci-numbered florets. Set them aside while you chop the stem, core, and leaves (about two-thirds of head) into smallish, bite-sized pieces. Combine the romanesco with a bunch of other chopped ingredients (some of which can come from jars): roasted red pepper, oil-cured olives, artichoke hearts or hearts of palm, green onion (or green garlic). Add a nice handful of coarsely chopped walnuts (the noce) and about the same amount of golden raisins. A couple of tablespoons of salt-packed capers from Pantelliera (rinsed of salt) and a few good pinches of the same island's oregano go in and the bowl is drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkled with red wine vinegar, then tossed. Good for a few days.

The Perfect Dressing for Your Early Spring Greens

I know it's unfashionable to use the adverb "literally." But I have been hungering for spring. Literally. I was seeing those first shoots of rapini in my dreams—literally—and imagining the whorls of fiddleheads, spears of asparagus and nettle leaves that were soon to make an appearance on my plate.

Violets…in January?

Spring was apparently as anxious as I was to make her debut on our Northwest stage, and I was shocked to discover, in mid-January, miner's lettuce popping out of the ground on parking strips and the scent of violets in the air. By mid-February all hell had broken loose and those earlier scofflaws were joined by rogue daffodils bobbing their yellow heads on sunny slopes and heady clouds of perfume from daphne and witch hazel drifting by on my walks through the neighborhood.

Can you blame my stomach for getting a little rumbly?

Daffodils in February…call 911!
It's a climate emergency!

So when just before Easter my friend Michel, source of much goodness on our table, mentioned that her new favorite brunch was poached eggs on kale dressed with a cherry tomato vinaigrette with Reggiano, I heard a little "ping" in my head. Not just about the poached eggs on kale, which sounded heavenly, but the cherry tomato vinaigrette that had somehow hit just the right note in my spring greens-obsessed brain.

With my nephew bringing his parents over for a brunch-and-Easter egg-fueled extravaganza, I thought Michel's creation might just make a delicious and colorful counterpoint to some bright green asparagus spears. Served alongside a garden-herb-and-cheese-stoked frittata, my craving was satisfied. For the moment.

Michel's Cherry Tomato and Sherry Vinaigrette

1-1 1/2 c. cherry tomatoes, chopped in 1/4" dice
1 Tbsp. olive oil
Splash of sherry vinegar (adjust to taste)
Sea salt to taste
Pepper to taste

In a small mixing bowl combine ingredients and allow to macerate for an hour or so on the counter. Toss with your favorite sturdy greens like kale, asparagus, rapini, etc.

Black Radishes, Outrageous Salad!

Known to contain vitamin C, potassium, iron and magnesium as well as vitamins A, E and B, the black radish also possesses an ability to fight off infection and promote healthy digestive function. Dried and powdered, it's found in herbal supplements and is used in homeopathy to treat thyroid imbalances and improve liver function.

Not being a big one for stuffing myself with lots of supplements, preferring instead to fill my belly with delicious things in their more natural state, I was pleased to discover that the black radish lends a peppery bite to a root slaw. Having volunteered to bring a salad to a crab feed and inspired by the two black radish salads concocted by Linda Colwell at this year's Ayers Creek Farm Ramble, I hauled out our trusty mandoline and went to town.

I wasn't sure how many radish fiends were in the crowd and didn't want to overwhelm the crab with the sometimes strong heat and bitterness that some of these members of the brassica family carry. Following Linda's lead, I salted down the julienned radishes and let them stand for a couple of hours on the counter, which tames some of their harsher, peppery tendencies. A quick rinse to wash off the salt, draining them well and then drying them in an absorbent dish towel and they were ready for the salad bowl.

There were a couple of small globes of celery root (right) in the vegetable bin that hadn't gone into a root vegetable stew the week before, so while the radishes enjoyed their salty spa treatment I julienned those as well, figuring their mild celery flavor and crisp texture would add a nice touch to the finished salad.

Since for once I was running ahead of schedule, I made up a quick lemon vinaigrette and doused the rooty mixture, tossing it well and putting it in the fridge so that the flavors could mingle until we left for dinner. A couple of tosses in the interim and then a final toss before serving, and this simple salad was declared the belle of the ball.

Simple Black Radish Salad

4 large black radishes
2 small, peeled globes of celery root (or one large), optional
2/3 c. olive oil
1/3 c. lemon juice
1 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 c. plus 1/8 tsp. kosher salt

Scrub radishes to rid them of any dirt or dust, but don't peel. Using a mandoline, julienne them into matchstick-sized pieces. Put the julienned radishes into a large bowl, add the 1/2 cup salt and stir to combine. Let sit on the counter for a couple of hours.

While waiting for radishes, make the dressing by whisking lemon juice, oregano and 1/8 tsp. salt into olive oil.* Set aside. When salted radishes are ready, rinse them well under running water, drain in a colander and dry them with an absorbent dish towel (I love flour sack dish towels for this purpose.) Add them back to the bowl, julienne the celery root (if using) and add them to the radishes. Pour the dressing over the top, stir to combine and put the salad into the refrigerator. Stir occasionally. Serve.

* You can also add a tablespoon of Dijon mustard and a crushed garlic clove to make a mustard vinaigrette.

Salad Smackdown: Barley Is a Winner

I love a good grain salad, so when I heard Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm waxing poetic about the quality of their barley this year, I had to get some. Of course, I'd never cooked barley before, though I'd made a killer salad with his frikeh, but I decided what the heck, my family will pretty much eat anything with enough garlic and fresh vegetables in it. To up the ante a notch, we had old friends coming over for a grilled salmon dinner, and it seemed like a grain salad with some crunchy raw vegetables would be a good match.

I wasn't wrong.

Adding water to the soaked grains.

Between the terrific salmon, which Dave grilled to perfection, and the 2009 Seufert Zenith Vineyard Pinot Noir my brother supplied to go with it, not to mention the near-perfect late Oregon summer evening and the table lit by candlelight, we all were swooning. The pop of the grain and its sweet, carrot-like flavor just made it all that much better. I don't think you could ask much more of a salad.

Barley salad

1 lb. hulless barley
1/2 red bell pepper, chopped fine
1/2 red onion, chopped fine
1 fennel bulb, chopped fine
1 c. corn kernels (or kernels sliced from 1 corn cob)
5 or 6 leaves kale, sliced into chiffonade
1/4 c. olive oil
Juice of 2 lemons
2 cloves garlic, pressed through a garlic press
2 tsp. salt, then more to taste

Put barley in large pot. Cover with cold water by 2” and soak overnight. The next day, drain and rinse the barley in a fine mesh sieve. Put in pot and cover with cold water by 1”. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 25-40 min. until done to your liking. (I like it a bit al dente, so only cooked mine 25 min.) Add more water if it gets dry.

When done, drain barley and rinse in cold water. Put in large salad bowl. Add bell pepper, onion, fennel, corn and kale and mix to combine. Add olive oil, lemon juice and salt. Mix to combine. Cover and place in refrigerator for a minimum of 30 min. before serving. Prior to serving, taste for salt and adjust as needed.