I struggled to fit yet another arm load of zucchini and squash from my CSA weekly farm share into the vegetable drawer. Something needed to be done about this and fast. I knew that, before I could blink, Saturday’s CSA pickup would roll around again and I’d have no choice but to build a fort made of vegetables and fruit. Continue reading
Much has happened since my last post. Work has taken me to Asia multiple times (I’ll be sure to share my noodle soup recipe once the weather gets cold…but let’s not talk about the cold yet), the dog is properly house trained but has developed a fear of anything on wheels, and the cats have begrudgingly accepted this 4-legged intruder isn’t leaving any time soon.
Anyway, let’s talk about summer squash. I know, it’s getting crazy.
My arms were full but they were so cute. Perched on the edge of a table at the farmers market, you couldn’t walk passed without giving at least an endearing glance at the little cartons of donut peaches. They would become dinner.
I love salads with oomph. It’s hard to accomplish without bacon, but it’s possible if you have cheese and grill marks. Both were at my fingertips.
I started with the cheese. The thought of creating it yourself in your own kitchen is extremely exciting. What’s fantastic about homemade ricotta, is that it’s delicious and incredibly simple to make. I’m not joking. I’d never tried it before because I hadn’t taken the 3 minutes to buy cheesecloth (the only specialty item required). That’s actually the hardest step, buying the cheesecloth. So, once that laborious process is over, you can get into comfy clothes, make ricotta and drizzle the leftover (nutritious) whey on your dog’s dinner. (Yes whey.)
It was too hot to move, but I thought ahead to later that afternoon when it would still be too hot to move, but we’d be hot and peckish. Wishing for something crisp, refreshing, quenching. Then it hit me. Thanks to my late grandmother, Irene, I had a simple and delicious idea. It was something she would make on hot summer days at the farm in New Hampshire. It was time for Danish cucumber.
I woke to the sound of trees rustling – actual trees – and the chatting of birds over the comforting low hum of the ocean. Aside from my feeble attempts to tan (I swear, I can tan) I knew the days would consist of meal plotting by day and evenings with hungry, sandal-clad friends and family…
Sometimes, there is no competing with hamburgers and hot dogs. My mission: feed the masses with large mounds of summertime flavor. I wanted something that would scream, “Look at me, I’m delicious…and you can have seconds without awkwardly asking for someone to throw another dog on the grill.”