Weekly Dish

As you know, I have, over the last few months, lost my taste for food. I’m sure for many pregnant women, those who dread cooking or find it difficult, this would not be the end of the world. But, I have to tell you, for a girl who loves to be in the kitchen, relying on peanut butter sandwiches and smoothies for nutrients has not been much fun. I guess I should have relished the break from cooking, as my husband cheerfully took over, but instead, I felt like a big part of my day was missing.

And I didn’t like it one bit.

In the midst of this cooking hiatus, I often scanned my favorite food blogs, searching for inspiration, hoping that something would awaken my nausea-weary tastebuds. For whatever reason (only the hormonal monsters in my body know for sure), one afternoon, a ravioli recipe that I’d bookmarked months and months ago from Chez Megane suddenly sounded good. Nevermind that I didn’t have sweet potatoes or ricotta cheese. I did have a butternut squash, one that had been looking longingly at me from the pantry for several days since I picked it up from the farmer’s market, and I had wonton wrappers. And, miracle of all miracles, I actually had an appetite!

I put on some music and an apron and went to work. I cut the squash in half, smeared it with a bit of butter, molasses, and basalmic vinegar, and popped it into the oven. I harvested the last good leaves of our sad sage bush (which has since gone on to herb heaven, rest in peace), and carefully laid out all the ingredients I would need. I chopped garlic and beat an egg and grated Parmesan cheese. In fact, I decided while I was there, I might as well busy myself until the squash was finished and cool enough to handle. So I baked some bread and made granola.

And, dear reader, I am happy to report that when the ravioli was plated up and ready, I was starving. It tasted like the best meal I’d had in weeks. I know not everyone understands this, but, oh, the pleasure of preparation — of getting my hands dirty and anticipating the way the flavors and textures will taste in my mouth: this is what I’d been missing.

And, ever since I made that discovery, I’ve felt more like myself every day.

Butternut Ravioli with Sage Butter and Italian Sausage

1 1/4 cups of cooked, mashed winter squash
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/8 t. freshly grated nutmeg
About a dozen sage leaves
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, shredded, plus extra for serving
1 egg plus water
Wonton wrappers or pasta sheets
4 T. butter
1/4 cup pine nuts
1 link Italian sausage, sliced into rounds (you could, of course, leave this out for a vegetarian meal)

In a heavy-bottomed skillet, melt a tablespoon of butter. Saute the garlic over medium-low heat until translucent and very soft. Chop a few of the sage leaves and add them to the skillet. Sprinkle with Kosher salt and saute for another minute or so, until the leaves crisp up a little bit.

In a large bowl, scrape the contents of the skillet in with the mashed squash. Add the Parmesan and nutmeg, and combine well. Set aside.

Now, I am funny about the wonton wrappers: I don’t think they hold up very well unless they’re doubled up. So, I use 4 wrappers per ravioli, brushing one side of a wonton wrapper with egg wash and then laying another wrapper on top of it, pressing to seal. I repeat this process with another pair of wrappers. Then, spoon filling on top of one double sheet, then top with the other double sheet and seal the edges with egg wash. It’s a little extra trouble to do it this way, but I once had a whole batch fall apart in the boiling water with only single sheets, so I prefer to play it safe. (Of course, homemade pasta would be best).

Once the ravioli are assembled, set them aside. Bring a pot of water to boil. Add the ravioli and cook until they float, about 3 or 4 minutes. (You may have to do this in batches). Drain and arrange on plates.

While the ravioli are cooking, brown the sausage in the skillet (the one you cooked the garlic in) until cooked through. Remove with a slotted spoon. Add the butter and cook over medium until it’s just beginning to turn golden. Add the pine nuts and remaining whole sage leaves. Stir and cook until the sage leaves are crispy. Watch carefully so that the butter doesn’t burn. Divide the sauce evenly between the plates of ravioli. Top with the sausage and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Serves 2 hungry people for dinner, with a couple of extra ravioli left over.

–Inspired by Megan’s recipe for Sweet Potato Ravioli

I’ve let most of my basil plants go to seed at this point, but there’s one that I’ve continued to prune for pesto, and it is still hanging on. A few weeks ago, I harvested an enormous bouquet — as much as I could carry — to make what will probably turn out to be the last big batch of pesto to freeze. I do this every year, and even though hot weather usually persists in Louisiana for another month or so afterwards, and the leaves don’t really change colors, this act of saying goodbye to summer helps me to officially mark the changing of the seasons, at least in my head (and my kitchen).

But then, I’m left with all of this very summery pesto. Some of it goes into the freezer, yes, but what to do with the rest of it?

Well, one of the things that inspired my little harvesting fest this year was a meal prepared for us by my dear friend Jessica and her husband Andy. For dinner one night at their house, they served us roasted portabello mushrooms with spinach and leeks, topped with goat cheese and pesto. Intrigued by the combination of summer and fall flavors — bright, clean basil with earthy mushrooms and leeks — I created these transitional quesadillas.

This recipe couldn’t be simpler, once you have the pesto made, and, loaded with vegetables, the dish is good for you too. I can imagine that I’ll be pulling the pesto out of my freezer to whip these up quite often as cooler weather descends on this part of the country.

Summery Fall Quesadillas

1/2 T. butter
1/2 T. olive oil
1 small yellow onion, sliced into half-moons
1/2 pound assorted mushrooms
2 medium-sized leeks, white and green parts, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups roughly chopped spinach leaves
2 ounces goat cheese
1 T. basil pesto
4 large flour tortillas

Heat the butter and olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onions and cook until nicely browned (this takes me anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, depending on the sugar content of the onions). Sprinkle with Kosher salt, and remove the onions to a plate. Drizzle a little more oil into the skillet if you need to and add the leeks, mushrooms, and garlic. Cook these vegetables together over medium heat until tender. Add the spinach and stir until just wilted. Add this mixture to the plate of caramelized onions.

Mix the goat cheese and pesto together. Warm the tortillas slightly (I cover them in paper towels and microwave them for 20 seconds), and spread each one with a light coating of the goat cheese mixture. Top half of each tortilla with 1/4 of the vegetables and fold over.

Heat a pat of butter and a drizzle of oil in the skillet over medium-high. Cook the assembled quesadillas, one at a time, until browned evenly on both sides.

We ate these as a main course, but cut into wedges, I bet they would also make great appetizers.

PS: Thanks so much to everyone for all of your very kind well wishes about our happy news (and for a speedy recovery from nausea). I’m thrilled to report that I have already felt more like cooking (and more like eating), so hopefully, the second trimester will bode well for Weekly Dish. Your comments and encouragement have buoyed my spirits tremendously, so thank you!

The U.S. South, as a geographic region, is often pigeonholed as one monolithic entity, all of us southerners grouped into the same slow-talking, barefoot-going mass. But think through just the culinary traditions, and you’ll see quite a variance from one part of the South to the next. Take the simple idea of barbecue. Now I grew up in Mississippi, only three hours from Memphis (or for the more adventurous, an hour and a half from a joint in the middle of nowhere called Letha’s), so I will tell you that barbecue means ribs, plain and simple. And I like mine dry. But just ask folks from Texas or North Carolina to describe barbecue, and you’ll see. They have definite ideas about what goes in the sauce, and those ideas vary widely. Oh, and they also have very definite ideas that their state’s barbecue is the absolute best.

To be sure, there are traditions that appear consistently across the South, but many regions have distinct specialities that you can’t find in other places. In the hill country of Kentucky, where some of my mom’s family is from, they make these wonderful concoctions called ham biscuits, homemade biscuits slathered with butter and topped with the best ham I’ve ever eaten. In southern Louisiana, of course, Creole and Cajun cooking reigns supreme; jambalaya, etouffee, and gumbo aren’t likely to appear as frequently in other parts of the region.

In Mississippi, I grew up with frequent tutorials in frying–a staple method in most parts of the deep south–and what I would call good southern comfort food. When asked, my brother Jason requests what I think of as the quintessential comfort meal: fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and black-eyed peas with pepper jelly. Oh, and homemade biscuits, which we smear with butter and honey. Southern food, for us, also meant wild game: my dad and brothers all hunt, so baked doves, roasted quail, and dry-fry (fried venison) were also big parts of our meals.

If the blogging event Food Bloggers’ Geography: Southern Style, put on by My Husband Cooks, had fallen at a different time in my life, I would love to have whipped up one of these dishes that so represents the culinary heritage of my southern family. But, alas, I had to go back to the days before the nausea set in to find something appropriate.

In the first few weeks of pregnancy, I felt hungry all the time. Mostly for salty, crunchy things. I ate olives by the handful and although I am usually not a potato chip girl, if they were near, I could eat a whole bag. One Sunday for lunch, after a heavy rain had knocked some of the not-yet-ripe fall tomatoes from the garden on the ground, we fried them up for what is, in Mississippi anyway, the quintessential southern summer sandwich: a BLT. Instead of ripe red tomatoes, I used the fried green ones, whose tartness works well with the bacon. Instead of lettuce, I added our garden arugula, and I loved the peppery flavor against the salty crunch of the bacon and the spicy coating of the tomatoes. If this were a traditional southern BLT, it would have to have homemade mayonnaise on it, but since I’m avoiding raw eggs, that wasn’t an option (and storebought mayonnaise is never, ever an option). Good, crusty bread is also a must: I used ciabatta for this one; sourdough also works.

I’m sorry I don’t have a real southern “recipe” to offer, but if you dig around in the archives, you’re likely to find many a southern dish: the South has, in many ways, defined the kind of cook I am. I’ve fried green tomatoes here before, so in case you want to make BLT’s with stray fall tomatoes, here’s how to do it.

I’m excited to see how other folks interpret “the South”; you can head over to My Husband Cooks and find out on Sunday.

This super-fast dinner was inspired by a post by Barbara at Tigers & Strawberries (who just gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl!) about using leftovers for breakfast. I read somewhere recently (and in true mid-semester fashion, can’t remember for the life of me where) that a hash is typically a meal made from leftover potatoes. Which certainly makes sense to anyone who’s every tried to make hash browns with raw potatoes: it can take forever. In light of my recent fascination with using up leftovers, the specifics of this dish were inspired by a ziploc bag full of sweet potatoes roasted the night before and a hankering for breakfast at dinner time (which strikes often, since I love breakfast food, but am not much of a morning cook).

Everything for this meal happens in one skillet, which my clean-up crew appreciates, and the salad greens give this old-fashioned high-fat breakfast more healthful clothing for dinner. I love the way the runny egg yolk becomes part of the dressing; once everything on this plate is all mixed up, each bite is packed with a zingy mixture of flavors. Next time, I’ll use spinach arugula instead of Romaine.

The recipe follows this week’s menu (I need a new dry-erase marker; sorry if it’s hard to read!).

Sweet Potato Hash Salad

4 slices thick bacon
1 cup cooked, chopped sweet potatoes
1 T. Dijon mustard
1 T. cane syrup (honey would also work)
2 T. cider vinegar
Two platefuls of salad greens
2 eggs

Cook bacon slices in a skillet until cooked to desire crispness. Remove and drain off all but about a teaspoon of the fat. Add the sweet potatoes to the skillet, and toss gently, browning as you cook.

Meanwhile, line two plates with the salad greens.

When the potatoes are fairly evenly browned, add the mustard and syrup and stir to mix well. Add the vinegar, stirring constantly, until all ingredients are well-incorporated. Divide the sweet potato mixture between the two plates.

Return the skillet to the heat, and fry two eggs, topping each plate with one of them. Finish each plate with two slices of the reserved bacon.

To eat, mix everything on the plate together thoroughly.

You may not know that because I make way more pasta than I post about. Mostly because I keep dry pasta in the pantry for nights when dinner needs to be thoughtless and fast, throw some noodles on to boil, and top them with whatever strikes. No measuring takes place on those nights, to be sure.

I made this pasta dish several weeks ago in this fashion, and it was so good, I wanted to recreate it both so I could take the time to photograph it and share it with you and so I would remember what I did.

Some people immediately dismiss a pasta recipe if it has heavy cream in it, largely because restaurants have given cream sauces a bad rap. A plate of fettucine alfredo at a place like Olive Garden is probably at least 2 whole servings (maybe more) of pasta, and the noodles are usually swimming in a bath of butter, cream, and cheese, for a grand total of, what, at least 2 days worth of calories and fat grams? Not to mention the bread…

But who wants a bath of cream anyway, when you can add a small amount of cream to coat the noodles and soak into the vegetables, giving the dish the rich flavor you want without all of the fat? Some, yes, but not a week’s worth.

Dusting the artichokes in a bit of flour and seasoned salt and then pan-frying them in olive oil with the garlic deepens their flavor and makes them a little bit crispy on the outside, which I love, but it isn’t necessary. You can also just add them in with the olives and sundried tomatoes. I also added a grilled chicken breast because I had one leftover, but leaving it out won’t compromise the flavors in the least if you want a vegetarian dish.

Good feta cheese and high-quality olives (I like the Greek ones from the deli counter at my grocery) will make a difference, and I like the sudried tomatoes packed in oil for this, rather than rehydrating the dried ones.

Oh, and I love olives, so I use a lot; strongly flavored ones like kalamatas can overwhelm, so if you’re not a huge fan, you may want to reduce the quantity.

The best part? The sauce was ready to toss with the noodles by the time they were finished cooking, AND it tastes fabulous. My kind of meal.

Ziti with Olives, Pan-fried Artichokes, and Sundried Tomatoes

1 pound ziti
2 T. olive oil 1 14 1/2-ounce can artichoke hearts, drained
Flour
Seasoned salt
1 clove garlic, minced
1/3 cup sundried tomatoes, slivered
1/3 cup roughly chopped black olives (I like the Greek ones)
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup lowfat milk
1/3 cup feta cheese, crumbled

Put the pasta on to boil. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet over high heat. Drain the artichoke hearts and lay flat on paper towels. Dust with a bit of flour and sprinkle with seasoned salt. When the oil is hot, lay the artichokes in the skillet in a single layer, as many as will fit at once. Press down with a spatula and let them fry undisturbed for a couple of minutes. Flip them over and fry until brown on both sides. Remove that batch (if you need to do two), and repeat with the remaining artichokes. Reduce the heat to medium and add the garlic. Saute the garlic until fragrant and soft, a couple of minutes, then stir in the tomatoes, olives, and fried artichokes. Turn the heat up to medium high and add the cream. It should reduce quickly; add the milk, and stir continuously until the sauce is thickened. Stir in the feta. Drain the noodles and add them to the sauce; toss until the noodles are coated and the vegetables are evenly distributed. Serve immediately. A simple green salad with mint, lemon, and olive oil makes an excellent accompaniment.

My good friend Katherine, who has two small children, said to me the other day, “Hey, I have a great idea for your blog.” I saw David smirk in the background because he says that exact thing to me often, only his ideas are usually quickly dismissed (rarely do they have anything to do with food, at least in any realistic sense, and most often, he’s just trying to be a wise guy. A big surprise, I’m sure, to any of you who caught his carbonara recipe.) He was waiting to see if I responded similarly to my friend.

But Katherine’s suggestion was genuine. She said she’d love to see more recipes that are quick and easy that can also provide for two meals. I’d gotten into the habit of cooking that way in the fall and winter last year — slowly roasting vegetables that could morph into side dish, soup, or pasta sauce; cooking two chickens at once for main dish, stock, chicken salad, and a curry or quesadilla. But summer demands a different kitchen ethic: both because our schedule was a bit more lax and because turning the oven on for more than 20 minutes at a time is out of the question, dinner was usually a one-shot deal. Quick, perhaps, but rarely any leftovers.

But as the weather cools slightly and the days become busier, I find myself, perhaps inspired by Katherine’s suggestion, trying to plan more carefully and think ahead, getting more mileage out of the effort I put into particular dishes.

This salmon is a good example. It isn’t difficult or labor-intensive, but because I cook a whole slab at once, it makes a fabulous main dish one night, and then will crumble up into a yummy salad later in the week, enough for another supper and at least a couple of lunches. On the first night, I slathered it with fresh basil pesto, grilled it, and topped it with a silky tomato-cream sauce and fresh basil. Grilled corn and baby eggplants rounded out the plate.

Look for the salad recipe later on, and don’t forget to grill a few extra ears of corn too. It’s another great leftover food.

Grilled Pesto Salmon with Tomato Cream Sauce

1 whole slab salmon (about 1 1/2 - 2 lbs), or 4 6-ounce steaks
1/2 cup basil pesto
Kosher salt and cracked pepper
2 T. butter
1/2 small onion, chopped (about 1/3 cup)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 medium tomato, diced
1/4 cup white wine
1 T. heavy cream
Basil leaves, for garnish

Prepare the grill. Rub the salmon on both sides with the pesto (depending on how thick you make your pesto, you may need to add a bit of olive oil); you should have a nice, thin coating of oil and herbs. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Grill the salmon, skin side up, until it’s just translucent in the center (it took ours about 4-6 minutes per side).

Meanwhile, saute the onion and garlic in butter over medium-low heat until soft. Add the tomatoes, and stir to heat. Sprinkle with salt. Turn the heat up to medium-high, and pour in the wine. Stir, cooking for a few minutes, until the vegetables have absorbed some of the wine; stir in the cream. Turn the heat down to low, and keep covered until the salmon is ready.

To serve, cut the salmon into 4 equal portions (if whole), and reserve 2 for salad later in the week. Top the steaks with the tomato sauce and fresh basil leaves.

–Recipe adapted from Come On In! by the Junior League of Jackson, MS 

My husband has been so supportive since I’ve been in school. He’s indulged my study-break cooking frenzies, patiently cleaning up my messes and dutifully tasting every test recipe; he’s done an awful lot of laundry and cleaning of the bathroom; and he  rarely every complains. The job I’ve been reluctant to give up, of course, is the making of our dinners. David is completely competent and capable in the kitchen, so it isn’t that I don’t trust him to do it (though he gladly would), it’s just that for me, somehow, making dinner every night is the one chore that keeps me sane, that helps me to feel like a normal person whose life is not completely chaotic. It brings order to an otherwise out-of-control schedule.

But some nights I just don’t have it in me. And now that David is a full-time student too, our schedule has become even more unorthodox. Dinner, for example, on Wednesday nights is served promptly at 10 p.m., when David gets home from class. For the nights when I have so much to do before the morning that I can’t think how to fit in cooking dinner too, rather than turn to take-out (which we try hard not to do), I turn over the kitchen to David.

He has a couple of standard classic recipes that are his specialties, and I’m hoping to introduce you to most of them, one at a time. You’ve already become acquainted with his famous roast chicken. Number 2 on the list of his favorite things to make is carbonara. He first learned to make it in Italy (which he will tell you about in a moment), and he’s been fixing this hearty comfort food for me almost as long as I’ve known him.

Most people who make carbonara feel pretty strongly about their way of doing it, and David is no exception. But if you’re stuck in the kitchen at 5:30 without any clue about what to make for dinner, and you happen to have eggs, bacon, noodles, and some Parmesan cheese, this meal comes together in less than half an hour. Low-calorie, it is not, but what it lacks in nutritional value, it makes up for in taste. Certainly, we would not eat a meal like this every night (and usually when we plan on carbonara, I try to limit the fat content of the rest of our meals), but for nights when we’re busy and we need sustenance, this hits the spot.

Here are David’s unedited instructions. I quote word-for-word from the cook:
1. Boil water. Insert 1 pound noodles. (Note from Jennifer: Usually, we use the traditional fettucine, but this night we only had rigatoni, and we actually prefer it. The ridges hold the eggy sauce quite nicely.)

2. Get out: 3 eggs, bacon, Parmesan cheese.

3. In a bowl, whisk 3 eggs with 1/4 cup cream (or whole milk) and salt and pepper. Not tons of salt–the bacon and cheese are also salty. But pepper: use as much pepper as your wife will let you get away with.

4. Cook some bacon. If you like a lot of bacon, cook a lot. If you’re trying to be healthier, or you don’t like a lot of bacon, not so much. Completely up to you. (Note from Jennifer: chances are, if you’re trying to be healthy, you aren’t making carbonara. But who knows?)

5. Grate fresh Parmesan. A lot. You can never have enough. Not-fresh Parmesan is a Republican plot to make us all lazy and compliant. Have you seen Kraft’s political platform?

6. Think about Italy while you grate the cheese and wait for the noodles and bacon to cook. If you like, I will tell you the story of how I learned to make this. I once went to Italy with a group of artists. We had carbonara at this fabulous restaurant, and as we were lamenting the fact that you can’t get carbonara like that anywhere in Mississippi (because we were all from Mississippi), a member of our party — Father Canonici, a lovely old priest with deep Italian roots — shared this recipe with us. You know, the one I’m giving to you now in such specific detail. What can I say, I didn’t write it down, and my memory is fuzzy. What I do know is that you should never, ever put peas in carbonara.

7. Weird how this is so good with no garlic. (Note from Jennifer: I don’t know what this has to do with anything, but I was instructed to take it down. Remember: not my words!)
8. Make sure the bacon is cooked to a nice crispy texture. I don’t really like crispy bacon (a common source of contention at our house), but it works with the carbonara to keep things from getting all clumpy.

9. Keep a close eye on the noodles; you don’t want them overdone.

10. Drain the noodles.

11. Dump the noodles back into the pot.

12. Pour the egg-cream mixture on top of the still-hot noodles. Now, this is the important part. You want to mix it up so that the heat of the noodles will start to firm up the eggs a bit before returning the pot to the burner. You do this for two reasons: 1. You want the noodles to get nicely coated before the eggs get too done. 2. It will be easier to clean the pot when you’re done because there won’t be as much egg stuck to the bottom of the pan. This was learned the hard way.

13. Once the eggs have begun to stick to the noodles, return the pot to a low heat. Stir gently and constantly (keep in mind: the more you stir, the less scrubbing you’ll have to do after dinner).

14. Now is the time to sneak in more pepper when your wife isn’t looking.

15. Crumble the bacon. We do it with kitchen scissors because the bacon is still very hot.

16. After cooking and stirring for 5 minutes or so, add the cheese. You don’t want to add the cheese too early, or it will get lost.

17. Keep stirring. Check to make sure you aren’t getting cheese clumps all over your spoon.

18. Finally, now everything will start to come together and you can add the bacon at last.

19. Adding the bacon is sort of like when you’re making muffins and you don’t want to overmix your wet and dry ingredients. Fold gently. If you mix too much, it will all end up on the bottom.

20. Serve immediately.

21. When you’ve served up what you plan to eat tonight, immediately put the leftovers in a different container so you can start soaking the pot. Believe me, you’ll be glad later.

22. Talk about Italy while you eat.

There you have it, David’s words on carbonara. Enjoy!

This pizza sprung from my current love affair with figs and a hankering for grilled pizza. The restaurant where I worked in college — aptly named the Brick-Oven Cafe — served the most delicious wood-fired pizzas, baked, as you might expect, in a huge brick wood-burning oven. The texture of the crust was nice: a balanced blend of crisp and chewy, but the rich, smoky flavor was of the sort you can only get when flames are involved. Currently without a wood-burning oven of my own, I’d been thinking that grilling a pizza might impart a similar texture and flavor.

The trick, I learned from this experiment, is to roll the dough as thinly as possible. What happens in the cooking process is that the fiery heat licks the bottom of the crust, imparting its smoky flavor within a matter of minutes. But if the dough is too thick, it won’t cook all the way through, leaving you with a gummy texture in the center. We ended up pulling the pizza off of the direct grill, reducing the flame, and cooking it the rest of the way through on a foil-lined cookie sheet. It worked, but I would have liked it more if the crust had been thinner and more evenly crisp.

The toppings, inspired by recent fig pizzas at A Mingling of Tastes and at Milk and Honey, were figs, grilled in a drizzle of basalmic vinegar and cane syrup; grilled pieces of prosciutto; and large dollops of goat cheese, which melted nicely into the figs. David, not as big a fan of figs as I am, was a bit skeptical about this sweet/salty combo, but he admitted after several slices that he was pleasantly suprised. Given my penchant for contrasting flavors, fresh figs, and pizza, it should come as no surprise that I loved every bite.

The labor of this meal is in the prep work; once you get everything ready, it takes almost no time to cook on the grill. The grilling times I’ve included are guesses: my best advice is to stand at the grill the whole time and watch carefully. The amounts are also estimates, as it will depend on how much you want to load down your pizza, how big your crusts are, and how many figs you can get your hands on. As you can tell, this is no exact science.
Grilled Fig Pizza

Half recipe of Basic Focaccia/Pizza Dough or other dough of your choice
Figs (I used about a pint)
Basalmic vinegar
Cane syrup (honey would work too)
Kosher salt
Prosciutto, thinly sliced
Goat cheese (I used about 4 ounces)
Olive oil
Cooking spray

Heat the grill to a medium-high flame (we have charcoal, so I imagine a gas grill would be easier to keep consistently hot).

While the fire is heating up, get everything ready: Slice the figs in half, and spread them in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet (preferably with a lip) that will fit on your grill rack. Drizzle with a tiny bit of vinegar and syrup, and sprinkle with salt. Place the prosciutto slices on a doubled piece of foil that’s been sprayed with cooking spray. Divide the the dough into two balls, and roll each one out as thinly as you can manage with a rolling pin and place on wax paper sprayed with cooking spray. Rub a little olive oil onto both sides of each pizza crust.

Take everything outside: prepared figs, prosciutto, dough, and the goat cheese. (If you live in the hottest, stickiest climate you can imagine like I do, spray yourself copiously with bug spray first and be prepared to sweat.) You’ll also need a big metal spatula (or two regular-sized ones) to flip the pizza. Grill the prosciutto first on the foil, just until it crisps up; this won’t take but a minute. Next, place your baking sheet of figs on the grill, and cook until the juices are bubbly and the figs are very soft; maybe 5 minutes? Now you’re ready for the pizza. Place the oiled dough directly on the grill rack, and let it cook (we covered the grill because the wind was fanning the flame too much) until it’s brown and crispy on the bottom; it took ours about 3 minutes. Flip, and immediately cover with figs, prosciutto, and goat cheese, being careful not to let any of the fig juices drip into the fire (like I did). Cook for another few minutes until the bottom is crispy and brown. Remove from the grill and drizzle with olive oil; repeat the process with the next pizza. Eat immediately!

This chicken salad recipe is for my sister, who last time I offered her my version with pesto and pine nuts, turned up her nose and said, “I like my chicken salad girly. You know, with grapes and stuff.”

Well, of course she does. This is a girl with shoes and purses in every shade of the rainbow (I have two pairs of flip flops and a black catchall tote), a fabulously expansive make-up collection (mascara and lip gloss for me, thank you), and enough trendy outfits to clothe the cast of Clueless (I’m most comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt).

But whatever our outward differences, Elizabeth and I love many of the same things; good food and each other’s company rank pretty high on the list.

So, sister, next time you come to visit, I’ll make this chicken salad for you, grapes and all. And you better not turn your nose up!

For a pretty, girly way to serve this salad, I halved an avocado, laid it on a bed of spinach, and dressed the whole plate with a spritz of lemon juice, a drizzle of olive oil, and a healthy sprinkle of salt. Then, I scooped the chicken salad into the avocado cavities. All in all, I loved the velvety texture and nutty flavor the avocado added; plus, serving it this way eliminates the need for bread, which makes this recipe healthy for low-carb folks.

For me, good chicken salad is in the details: I always use homemade mayonnaise, as I am terrified of the jarred stuff, but I also think the taste makes a big difference. Toasted pecans add crunch and a depth of flavor, and I love to play pungent red onion against something sweet, like grapes (only I used cherries this time because I had them on hand). Chicken salad comes in many variations and is infinitely flexible, so add what you like and leave out what you don’t. Here’s how I make this one:

Girly Chicken Salad 

2 cups cooked chicken, cut into small pieces (I use leftover roast chicken, both white and dark meat)
Two handfuls of grapes or cherries, pitted and halved
1/4 cup red onion, minced finely
1/2 cup pecans, chopped
1/3-3/4 cup homemade mayonnaise, depending on how dressed you like your salad
1/2 t. Kosher salt
Baby spinach
2 avocados, pitted, peeled, and halved
Olive oil
1 lemon

To toast the pecans, either dry-roast them in a heavy-bottomed skillet over medium heat, shaking the pan to prevent them from burning. Or, spread them on a baking sheet, and toast them in a 350-degree oven for 5-7 minutes. Mix the chicken pieces, red onion, pecans, and grapes or cherries, tossing gently. Add the mayonnaise, starting with a little, and then adding until the salad is dressed enough for your taste (this is such a matter of individual preference).

To serve, cover 2 plates with the spinach leaves. Top with the avocado halves. Sprinkle the whole plate with lemon juice, olive oil, and salt. Scoop in the chicken salad. Serves 2 (you’ll have 2-4 servings of chicken salad leftover.)

Every cook has her own version of this Italian bread and tomato salad, I’m sure, but I’ve made this one so many times this summer, I had to share. I’m not a big fan of soggy bread, so I like to get my bread cubes nice and toasty, almost like croutons, and with the help of olive oil and some fresh garlic, the bread also packs quite a punch of flavor. Add some vegetables and a quick dressing, and you’ve got yourself a light summer supper.

One trick I’ve used in carting this salad to picnics or other events is to mix the dressing in the bottom of the bowl before you add everything else. That way, you can toss the salad whenever you get ready, and not worry about everything turning to mush.

Panzanella

1 small loaf French bread, or half of a long one, cubed
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup olive oil
1/2 t. + 1/2 t. Kosher or sea salt
1 yellow bell pepper, julienned
1 cucumber, seeded and sliced into half moons
1 large tomato, seeded and cubed
1 avocado, diced
Juice of half a lemon
Coarsely ground black pepper
1/4 cup champagne vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil
1 T. dijon mustard

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil. Coat the bread cubes with olive oil, and spread in a single layer on the baking sheet. Sprinkle with 3 cloves of the minced garlic and the Kosher salt. Toast for about 15 minutes, stirring once during toasting, about half-way through.

In the bottom of a large salad bowl, whisk together the vinegar, mustard, and the remaining clove of garlic. Slowly whisk in the olive oil, stirring constantly to emulsify. Add the tomato, bell pepper, and cucumber pieces to the bowl. Sprinkle the avocado slices with lemon juice, and add them too. Salt the vegetables with the remaining half teaspoon of salt, and with coarse black pepper, if you like. If serving immediately, you can go ahead and toss the veggies with the dressing. If you plan to wait, then don’t toss it just yet.

Add the toasted bread crumbs last, tossing to coat with the dressing just before serving.

This recipe makes enough to serve 4 for a light supper, or 6-8 as a side. Either way, just eat it all; the salad will definitely be mushy by the next day.