I had an avocado, a cucumber, some chicken stock. I had just received a hand-me-down blender. It was a scorchingly hot day; I had a little time to make lunch, but not much, as I was anxious to leave my house for an air-conditioned coffee shop. And, I had just perused the latest issue of Canal House Cooking, featuring a recipe for Avocado & Cucumber Soup. The stars were aligned.

The soup was perfect. Ferociously simple (no peeling or seeding of the cucumbers required); exceptionally green; refreshingly cool.

A word on Canal House Cooking: Oh, how pleased I am to have discovered The Canal House. Produced by two women — Melissa and Christopher — with serious cooking credentials, Canal House is its own wonderful little entity: not quite a food magazine, not quite a cookbook, but a hybrid subscription-based tri-yearly cookbook thing.

Like most of the Canal House recipes, the combination  here is so obvious, and yet so innovative; reading through these gorgeous books is why didn’t I think of that moment after why didn’t I think of that moment. The photography and design are absolutely inspirational; the tone warm and inviting. And how fun is it to receive a little beautiful parcel of a cookbook in the mail three times a year? The best mail packages are the ones you’ve forgotten are ever going to arrive.

I cut this recipe down to serve just little ol’ me, as I only had one avocado and one cucumber, and also as this soup promised to go brown if not consumed quickly. The original recipe calls for three avocados to one cucumber, to serve 4, with more avocado-y results. I was tres happy with how this came out, however, still creamy and avocado-y, but with the refreshing crispness of the cucumber shining through and lifting the whole dish up. So good, in fact, that I had the remains for breakfast the next day, with coffee and toast.

Cold Cucumber Avocado Soup

Serves 1, plus a tiny bit more

Adapted from Canal House Cooking, Vol. 4

Ingredients

- 1 avocado

- 1 cucumber, sliced (unpeeled/unseeded)

- 1 or 2 cloves garlic

- juice of half a lemon

- 2 cups chicken stock (can use vegetable stock to make vegan)

- salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

- Optional: Plain yogurt or sour cream, golden cherry tomatoes, hot sauce: for garnish

1. Puree all ingredients (except garnish options) in blender until smooth.

2. Add any optional garnishes.

Voila!

Note: It’s good to eat this soup immediately, as it will begin to discolor (turn from green to brown, as avocados will) right away.

They are delicious, but certainly messy to eat. Normally I don’t mind being a slob in the name of good eats, but when I’m cooking for other people, I like to provide less messy options. That’s what led me to try a version of the elote loco that could be eaten with a fork. It was a huge succes, and I thought I’d hit on a great idea.

Well, I had, but so had Mexico hundreds of years ago. They call the dish esquite, and when I was in Mexico – not even a week after I made this dish – I saw it everywhere. So, while I don’t get any points for originality, I’m still glad to be able to share this tasty dish with you.

If you have a good Latin American grocery in your neighborhood, I’m jealous. But if not, don’t sweat it. Everything in this dish has a good American substitute. Parmesan works instead of cotija, and sour cream or mayo works just fine in the place of crema. If you or your eating companion are grossed out by these kind of creamy condiments (a lot of people are), I’d still urge you to try it. Just add the cream/mayo in moderation.

I’ve tried a lot of different techniques for taking corn off the cob, and the best way is carefully so as not to lose any fingers. Be sure to do it in a bowl rather than on a cutting board, or kernels will go everywhere. Also, unless you have a very sharp chef’s knife – I don’t – you might have better luck using a steak knife or other small, serrated knife.

Seriously, though, just be careful.

Esquites (Elote Loco in a bowl.)

Kernels from 4 cobs of corn
1/2 Tbs. cayenne pepper
1 tsp. cumin
salt
~1/2 cup crema (or mayo or sour cream)
1/2 cup cotija cheese (or parmesan)
Juice of 1 lime

1. Heat a saute pan with a small amount of vegetable or olive oil over medium-high heat. Add corn kernels, cayenne pepper, cumin, and pinch of salt. Cook until kernels begin to brown and then remove to a large mixing bowl.

2. While kernels are still warm, add remaining ingredients. Taste and adjust for consistency and flavor.

3. Serve, not mentioning mayo unless someone asks.

Why is summer so great? Days spent lounging by the lake, long bike rides, fish tacos, homemade strawberry jam. All true. And you know what else? Everything just tastes so good! And it is now, I think, in these dog days of summer when everything starts tasting best. Juiciest, freshest, ripest. And so it is now, when recipes come unbidden, floating into my head.

This recipe, my most recent frolic, is really something. I think that about everything I post here, of course, but this one really knocked my socks off. When I first thought it up, I had a feeling it would be pretty great. Upon first bite, I realized I had been wrong; it was spectacular. Broiled peaches, with slightly blackened skin brought a jolt of flavor that goes straight down to your toes; complemented by creamy mozzarella, the crisp bite of red onion, and earthy, sophisticated basil. Don’t think of this as a replacement for the traditional tomato caprese; think of it as another dish entirely, with its own set of satisfactions.

I broiled the peaches because they had been sitting around just a little too long, and were no longer looking perfectly appetizing raw. Remembering talk about grilled peaches, I them in the broiler for a few minutes per side and, voila, salvaged. Not only salvaged, but perhaps enhanced. They became unbelievably sweet, unbelievably juicy, unbelievably the essence of peach.

They may actually have become a little too sweet, or, more specifically, too sweet to eat an entire bowl of, as was my original plan, back when I thought I’d be using raw peaches. Instead, I ended up toasting some slices of baguette and eating the whole thing as if it were an hors d’oeuvre. That might be the best way to go, but it is a messy way, indeed, so think plates, or at least big, absorbent napkins. Or maybe think, something that I will gobble up all on my own, in the privacy of my own home, where no one can see the mess I make.

Peach “Caprese” Salad

Makes 1 small bowl-full (for 1 for lunch, or maybe 5 baguette slices worth of topping)

Ingredients (proportions here are rough, and up to your whims)

- 2 peaches, cut into chunks/slices

- 1/2 ball of mozzarella, cut into cubes

- 1/2 red onion, sliced thin

- 1/8 cup basil leaves, roughly chopped

- red wine vinegar

- Balsamic vinegar

- salt and pepper, to taste

1. Preheat broiler. Cover broiler pan with foil; place peach chunks on foil. Broil for about 5 minutes (until skin starting to brown/char); flip over; broil for about another 5 minutes. Remove from broiler. Let cool (5-10 minutes).

2. When cool enough to handle, combine with other ingredients. Splash red wine vinegar over everything, with a dash of Balsamic (this may be sacrilege, but it was just what I wanted — a little tart, a little sweet — and it was great). Season with salt and pepper.

Serve with toasted baguette slices.

Cooked chicken is a great thing to have on hand. You can make sandwiches out of it, throw it on a salad, use it for quesadilla filling, or whatever else your hungry heart desires. If you roast chickens on a regular basis (I do not), you’ll already know what I mean. But even if you don’t roast many chickens, you may still like having cooked chicken in the fridge.

In recent years, pre-cooked chicken has become a very popular grocery item, but those bags of chicken chunks can cost an arm and a leg and in the end don’t really taste all that good. But there’s a better way, and it takes only 5-10 minutes: Poaching. After the jump, I’ll tell you all about it.

Poaching is just a fancy word for boiling. Or rather, it’s a more specific word that means boiling meat. Poaching’s cousins – simmering, braising, stewing, and pot roasting, to name a few – are all the same basic technique: Heat water (or other water-based liquid, i.e. not fat) , then cook meat in it. The different terms generally indicate different amounts of liquid (you use much less in braising) or cooking times (stewing is long and slow), but there are no hard and fast rules.

There are two main advantages to poaching chicken. The first is that it’s fast and easy, and the second is that it helps the chicken retain moisture. Restaurants love to use grilled chicken as a salad topping, but the truth is that grilled boneless chicken without any marinade can be dry even in the best of circumstances. Overcook it even a little, and it can taste like shoe leather. In my opinion, poaching is the way to go.

How to Poach Chicken: Start with any boneless cut of chicken. Take a sauce pan large enough to accommodate the chicken and the cooking liquid and place it on the stove. Add your water-based cooking liquid (see below) and bring it to a boil. Add chicken, reduce heat, and simmer for 2-5 minutes, depending on thickness of the cut. Fin.

In my experience, poaching is a pretty forgiving enterprise, but here are a few tips to put you on the right track:

1. You can poach in water alone and achieve good results, but I think poaching in stock is much better. I think the chicken stays moister.  Canned stock is fine, and I actually use half stock and half water.
2. There’s no magic ratio of liquid to meat. You want to be sure you have enough to cover the meat completely, but don’t go crazy. You’re not making spaghetti.
3. I wouldn’t recommend using chicken that’s cut very thick. This can cause the outside to overcook and become dry before the inside is cooked through. If you buy jumbo boneless breasts, I’d cut them into strips before poaching.
4. Finally, let the chicken cool in the poaching liquid. Chicken absorbs liquids best at temperatures below where you would normally cook it. Allowing the chicken to cool in the liquid will allow it to reabsorb some of the moisture it lost in the cooking process.

Once the chicken is cooled, you can just pull it apart with your fingers. Toss it in a tupperware or ziploc and store it in the fridge. It should be good for a week or so, but I’d be surprised if it doesn’t disappear well before that.

Edamame and udon might be two of my favorite foods, so my attention was grabbed by this recipe the moment I flipped to it. I’ve also been meaning to add more “Asian food” (I hate saying “Asian food” – Would you ever say European food? – but it’s the easiest way to get my point across. Sorry, Asia.) to my repertoire, so this dish scratched several itches.

But most notably it satisfied my pretty ravenous hunger on a recent Tuesday. It’s easy to shop for and fast to cook, and the leftovers are great the next day. It’s a welcome addition to my wok, and another sign that M. Stewart knows her stuff.

You probably won’t believe me, but I actually made only one change to this recipe. Seriously, just one. My better half is actually a very open-minded eater, but he does have a few items on his culinary blacklist. Cabbage is one of them. I suggested bean sprouts, which have a similar texture, as an alternative, but apparently texture is the whole problem with cabbage in the first place. So bean sprouts were no solution, and I forged ahead without any crunchy ingredients. I was worried the final product might be lackluster without any crunch, but it was still great. So go for the cabbage if you like it, but rest assured that the dish can survive without it.

Martha says that you can use linguine instead of udon, and while I’m sure that you could, I’d really recommend getting udon if you can. There’s something about the texture that really sets it apart from Italian pasta; I don’t know enough about noodle-making to explain why this is, but it is. Buy udon.

And if you don’t like cutting up raw chicken, you can often buy “stirfry cut” chicken at the supermarket. If not, the butcher will usually be happy to slice up a tray of breasts or cutlets for you.

To accompany the stirfry, I made this salad that’s based on those “oriental” or “Asian” salads you see at chain restaurants:

It’s just mixed greens with mandarin orange slices and chow mein noodles. For dressing, I used Trader Joe’s sesame ginger, but any similar product will do. Though it’s not of any reputable ethnic origin, it’s a tasty salad and a very nice change from the endless parade of spring mix and balsamic vinaigrette affairs I make.

And that’s dinner, with a little help from Auntie Martha.  I was very pleased with the results, and the more I use this cookbook, the happier I am that she’s out of the hoosegow.

Chicken, Edamame, and Udon Stirfry

Coarse salt and ground pepper
8 ounces udon noodles or linguine
2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (6 to 8 ounces each), cut crosswise into thin strips
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 small red onion, halved and thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1/2 napa cabbage (about 1 pound), thinly shredded
2 cups frozen shelled edamame
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 tablespoons soy sauce

1. In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook noodles until al dente, according to package instructions. Drain, and rinse under cold water; drain again, and set aside.
   
2. While pasta is cooking, in a medium bowl, toss chicken with cornstarch; season with salt and pepper. In a large nonstick skillet, heat 1 tablespoon oil over medium-high. Cook chicken in two batches, until light brown on the outside and opaque throughout, 2 to 4 minutes. Transfer to a plate (reserve skillet).
   
3. Add remaining tablespoon oil to skillet; add onion and garlic. Cook, stirring frequently, until softened, 1 to 3 minutes. Add cabbage, and cook, stirring frequently, until tender, 2 to 4 minutes.
   
4. Add edamame, vinegar, soy sauce, chicken, and noodles; season with salt and pepper. Cook, tossing, until noodles and edamame are warmed through, 3 to 5 minutes.

As I sat down to write this post, I had a little smidgen of this left in the pot. As I write this sentence, that little smidgen has now been consumed. That is how good this combination is, that the mere thought of it necessitated the need for more.

This dish couldn’t be simpler: three ingredients (zucchini, white beans, basil, plus s&p and olive oil), one pot, about 10 minutes. Endless variations (add chopped tomato, add goat cheese, add roasted red peppers, serve hot or room temperature) and endless ways to make more hearty (I was originally going to serve this over barley, but I forgot; it could be an entirely different animal if served over penne, or scrambled with eggs).

So deliciously creamy (from the beans) that I was surprised to realize it was also vegan while checking the tags from this post. The basil is the key here; find somewhere that sells basil abundantly and cheaply in season and go wild. This is not the time to skimp. Perfect for a hot day when a salad just won’t do.

Zucchini with White Beans and Basil

Serves 1 (or 2, if you serve it with some kind of grain)

Ingredients

- 3 zucchini, ends discarded, halved lengthwise and then sliced into half-moons

- 1 can cannelini beans, drained

- good 1/2 cup or so of basil, sliced

- olive oil

- salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

1. Heat olive oil in a large saute pan over medium heat. Add zucchini, saute until golden on both sides (or almost).

2. Add beans. Cook until beans are heated through and liquid has evaporated (however much soupiness or non-soupiness you want). Add basil, give a stir so basil wilts slightly. Season with salt and pepper.

Apparently this is the time of year for asparagus and goat cheese, as Claire and I both prepared dishes with this combo totally unbeknownst to one another. Hers was lentils, mine is pasta, and both just go to show what a great match these two ingredients are.

I always like a fast recipe, but I think I have even more appreciation for elegant recipes, recipes where one step flows cleanly into the next, you never feel rushed, and you wind up with a tasty dish and a minimum of dirty dishes.

And that’s exactly what you get with this terrific new addition to my repertoire courtesy of the wonderful blog Smitten Kitchen. The asparagus cooks in the pasta water and the whole dish is put together in a single bowl. Perfect for lazy hungry people like me.

I’m giving you the SK recipe verbatim, because Deb is a great recipe writer and because – as stated above – I am lazy. A few scattered thoughts:

Despite Sonny’s excellent herb inspirations, I’m actually not sure I’d ever cooked with tarragon before, but as soon as I tasted it, I went “Ohhhhhh! THAT’s what tarragon is.” It was a very familiar flavor that I had never connected with its source. It’s probably not my favorite herb in the whole world, but I think it added a good edge to this dish. Licorice-haters beware: Tarragon tastes of anise (the flavor of licorice) and if you absolutely hate anise (which lots of folks do), you might not be too crazy about tarragon. That said, tarragon is a lot milder and more well-rounded than anise, so I would urge you to give it a try. Just add tarragon to an individual serving of pasta so you don’t ruin the whole bowl if you hate it.

If you don’t have a lemon zester, you can use a vegetable peeler to shave of strips off lemon zest (which are also great for garnishing cocktails) and finely chop them. Just be careful not to take off too much of the bitter white pith along with the zest. This isn’t quite as good as a zester, but it’s close enough.

Finally, I highly recommend using the largest pasta spirals you can find (the ones I used were rotelle as opposed to rotini). The gaps in the spirals are perfect for catching up just the right amount of goat cheese and for some reason I just don’t think this dish would be as good with penne.

Asparagus, Goat Cheese and Lemon Pasta
From Smitten Kitchen, who adapted it from Bon Appetit

1 pound spiral-shaped pasta
1 pound slender asparagus spears, trimmed, cut into 1- to 1 1/2-inch pieces
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon peel
2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon plus more for garnish
1 5- to 5 1/2-ounce log soft fresh goat cheese (the pre-crumbled stuff will not melt as well)
Fresh lemon juice to taste (optional)

Cook your pasta in a large pot of well-salted water until it is almost tender, or about three minutes shy of what the package suggests. Add asparagus and cook until firm-tender, another two to three minutes. Drain both pasta and asparagus together, reserving one cup of pasta water.

Meanwhile, combine olive oil, lemon peel, tarragon and cheese in a large bowl, breaking up the goat cheese as you put it in. Add hot pasta and asparagus to bowl, along with a couple slashes of the pasta water. Toss until smoothly combined, adding more pasta water if needed. Season generously with salt and pepper, and lemon juice if you feel it needs a little extra kick. (We did.)

Effective!

The hijiki adds some fishy, oceanic umami flavors. It also contains a lot of iron and dietary fiber, making this salad super healthy overall. You can buy hijiki at Whole Foods or (much more cheaply) at a Japanese grocery store, if you’re lucky enough to have one of those around. Soak it according to package directions- the kind I get instructs me to soak in cold water for thirty minutes. If you don’t have any hijiki, chopped olives would probably sub in well.

Kale and Edamame Salad

One bunch kale
1 cup frozen shelled edamame
1/4 cup dried hijiki, soaked (by which I mean, soak first and then measure, as it expands considerably)

Dressing:

2 tsp sesame oil
2 Tbs soy sauce
2 tsp mirin
1/2 tsp rice wine vinegar

Remove the thick stems from the kale and boil it for about twenty minutes. Meanwhile, boil the edamame for about three or four minutes and drain. Mix the dressing ingredients together. When the kale is cooked, drain it and toss it with the soaked hijiki, edamame and dressing. Add salt, pepper and crushed red pepper flakes and eat at room temperature.

In case you feel the same way, I offer you this simple, satisfying, and healthful one dish meal of pasta with shrimp and spinach. Consider it the next step in complexity from my Boot Camp article about tomato sauce, but even if you still feel like a tomato sauce rookie, this recipe should be manageable for you.

Any kind of pasta here is fine, from long and thin angel hair to short spirally rotini like I used. There’s lots of opining out there about what shapes of pasta you should/shouldn’t use with different kinds of sauce and different sizes of ingredients, but I suspect you know what you like and that’s by far the best guideline.

I find peeling and deveining shrimp to be a particularly unpleasant and time-consuming kitchen chore and so usually pay the required premium to buy shrimp that have already been peeled and deveined. I leave it up to you whether or not to do the same. Cooked shrimp are fine, too; just follow the instructions below, but add the shrimp at the last minute. If you are using frozen shrimp, you’ll get the best results by defrosting them fully first (in the fridge!), but you can also get away with adding them frozen (I did, anyway) and cooking them for about 5-7 minutes longer.

I add at least a few red pepper flakes to almost every tomato sauce I make, but I think they’re particularly tasty here. If you don’t want heat, just skip them.

Finally, a note regarding cheese: It’s generally taken as gospel that Italians never add cheese to pasta dishes containing seafood. To this I respond that (1) I am very skeptical about any cookery statement containing the word “never” and that (2) I am not Italian. As it happens, I didn’t add any cheese to this dish, but I think a sprinkling of parmesan would be damn tasty. So go for it, and if any Italians give you shit about it, tell them to shut up and go worry about the Euro.

Pasta Marinara with Shrimp and Spinach

1 lb. pasta
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium onion, chopped
1 32 oz. can chopped tomatoes
1 pinch crushed red pepper flakes (if desired)
2 tsp. dried oregano
salt and pepper
1 lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 large bunch fresh spinach, washed

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook pasta according to package directions. Drain, reserving a cup or two of the cooking water.

2. While water is boiling saute onion, garlic, and red pepper flakes (if desired) in olive oil in another large pot (at least 4 quart).

3. When onion softens and begins to brown, add tomatoes, oregano, and a generous pinch of salt. Bring to a gentle boil and then reduce heat to simmer.Taste for seasoning and adjust as necessary/desired.

4. Add shrimp and spinach. Shrimp should cook in about 3 minutes. They are done when they are bright pink, and white throughout. You can cut into a thick one to check. By the time the shrimp are done, the spinach should be wilted as well.

5. Combine pasta and sauce, adding some reserved pasta water to achieve desired thickness. Mangia.

It’s taken us over two years to get around to it, but, finally, here it is. I got faux fancy with this one and crusted it with persillade, which is nothing more than a mix of garlic, parsley, bread crumbs, and lemon zest.  I’ll give you the recipe for it after the jump, but even if you don’t like parsley or just don’t like things with French names, this post will tell you all you need to know about cooking a pork tenderloin, however you want to season it.

There’s not much to know, but it’s well worth knowing.

A tenderloin is a relatively inexpensive and nearly fat-free cut from the lower part of the back of the pig. The low fat content is both a boon and a hazard: It means that you get a lot of meat for your money, but it also means that if you don’t put a little bit of thought into how you cook your tenderloin, it can wind up extremely dry. This is why many of the pork tenderloins you’ll find in the grocery store will come pre-marinated, and in fact, sometimes you can only find pre-marinated tenderloins in the store. My parents are very fond of these, so I’ve eaten more than a few in my day. Ideally, I’d always season my own, but pre-marinated tenderloins taste great, if a little overly salty.

You can braise a tenderloin on the stove or slice it and use it in stir-frys and the like, but for the purposes of this post, I’m going to focus on roasting.

Recipe for roasting a pork tenderloin: Season pork tenderloin. Place in 400 degree oven. Roast for 25-30 minutes.

Bam. That’s it. Unlike chicken, for example, pork tenderloins are of nearly uniform thickness, which means they cook in approximately the same time, regardless of poundage. This is great for cooks like me, who are a little paranoid about undercooking meat. If you’re lucky enough to have a meat thermometer – I suppose “luck” doesn’t really factor into it, but nevertheless, I don’t have a meat thermometer – you want the center of the pork to be about 155 or 16o degrees Fahrenheit. But 25-30 minutes really does the trick, and to be safe, just let the meat rest for 5-10 minutes and then cut into the thickest part to make sure it’s not too pink. Remember, though, that overcooked pork is the pits and that pork does not need to be grey in order to be done.

As for seasoning a tenderloin, you can crust it like I did here (which helps keep the moisture in the meat) or marinate it (which keeps it plenty juicy). Any crust or marinade that sounds good to you will work, but if you want to try persillade, the recipe is below. If you do go with persillade or with any other crusting option, you should roast the meat uncovered, but keep an eye on it. If the crust starts to get brown before the meat is done, just cover it in foil to keep it from burning. If you’re using a marinade, wrap the marinated tenderloin in aluminum foil and roast it that way.

(In case you’re curious, the sides above are (1) spinach, sauteed in olive oil with garlic, red pepper flakes, and dried cranberries and (2) sweet potatoes, thickly cut, tossed in olive oil, and roasted in a 400 degree oven until very well browned, about 30 minutes.)

Persillade
Adapted from Ina Garten

2 cups loosely packed fresh parsley leaves
1 tablespoon chopped garlic cloves (3 cloves)
1 cup fresh white bread crumbs
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest (2 lemons)
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1. Place the parsley and garlic in the bowl of a food processor and process until they’re both finely minced.

2. Add the bread crumbs, lemon zest, salt, and pepper and process for a second until combined.