Check out more of Kishori’s cooking on his blog, I Can Be Jell-O.

Happy September! Really and truly, isn’t it a happy time? Even though I was born in the summer, I am always grateful for the end of August – that plodding, humid month that’s really (let’s be honest) a lengthy prelude to the best season of the year. I love fall: the abundance of apples, baked and fresh; the need for coffee and tea in its natural hot form (so much better than iced!); and of course, the quiet hum of energy as school swings back into session. Although I’m not in school anymore, I do find that I miss the reliable traditions that come with its new year: fresh notebooks, new shoes, and a vacation schedule set in stone.

Of course, there are plenty of benefits to being an adult, and not a kid, in autumn. Ignoring the sales on turtlenecks and sweaters, for example, and splurging instead on a too-expensive but lust worthy coat that will only be useful for a few months before the down-feathered bulky one needs to be dragged out of the closet… now that’s a freedom I don’t wish to hand back. And here’s another one that I truly don’t miss – the brown bag school lunch.

I have nothing against the pb&j sandwich, the granola bar, the mysterious looking pizza that the cafeteria served. But as a post-adolescent human being, my favorite lunch is almost always getting to have leftovers from dinner. It’s filling, it’s warm, and most of all, it’s comforting.

Which brings me to this yellow dal. Now dal and the like weren’t exactly the coolest thing to bring into my high school cafeteria, but now, at the ripe old age of 24, that’s the last thing on my mind. Sitting down to a meal of rice, this dal, a sabji (a vegetable side) and some plain yogurt makes me irrationally happy. It is my ultimate comfort food, and I make it once – usually twice – a week.

It’s important to use the right kind of lentils for this version, as it will decrease your cooking time enormously. They should be orange, round, and thin. There are hundreds of different recipes for dal (here’s another one to definitely check out (link to Kevin’s lentils) but I like this one for its one-pot ease and familiarity. Feel free to adjust it however you see fit – add a tomato, add more chilis, experiment with different kind of lentils when you get comfortable with the basic technique. Just make sure to make a big enough pot of it, so you can look forward to having it for lunch the next day. For this is the important thing to think about as you trudge through the fallen wet leaves to your current cafeteria of choice.

Basic Dal

Makes 6-8 servings

Ingredients
A few tablespoons of canola oil
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
3 dried red chiles
Pinch asafetida *
1 chopped white onion
½ jalapeno, chopped and seeded (leave seeds in if you like the heat)
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 ½ cups washed massor dal (orange lentils)
6 cups water
juice of ½ lemon and chopped cilantro (optional)

*Asafetida can be found in any Indian grocery store, or online Indian grocery store. Although definitely recommended to buy, you can still make this dal without it.

In a soup pot, heat the oil and add the cumin seeds and chiles until the cumin seeds start to turn a darker shade of brown (about a minute.) Add the chopped onion and jalapeno, and let cook until onion is starting to brown. Add the salt.

Add the lentils and stir so the lentils are coated in your cooking oil. Add about ½ cupf of water, and wait until the water has been absorbed. Then add the remaining 5 ½ cups of water. Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer. Partially cover and stir every 10 minutes until the lentils are soft, and breaking down. The dal will start to be yellow instead of orange. Let simmer for about 25 minutes. Taste and add more salt if needed. Serve over hot rice.

These gloriously yellow pickles single-handedly set off my canning kick this summer. I tasted a jar of them at a friend’s while cooking other, fresher things, and I immediately knew that I not only had to have the recipe, but I had to have a jar (or two) of my own. This friend then generously offered up her kitchen, and enlisted her canning-pro sister, to churn out a big batch of delight. And delightful they are; by the time these babies are ready (you have to let them sit for at least three weeks before eating), the mixture is practically a chutney, full of sunshiney, golden flavor.

As Liz demonstrated a few weeks ago, canning isn’t actually all that hard. It seems intimidating at first, but once you’ve gathered the basic equipment and given it a few goes, you’ll feel able to whip up a batch of pickles in no time, with no stress. Sunshine pickles are a good place to start, I think, because not only are the ingredients super cheap (so, unlike jam, you don’t have to worry so much about screwing up and wasting precious pints of berries), but I’ve never seen anything like this for sale. And that, really, is the beauty of self-canning: not just thriftiness, but also inventiveness.

I don’t have much else to say about this, which may be because my friend’s sister did a lot of the heavy lifting, in the form of prepping the cucumber. If you do not have a little cucumber prepping elf, then I suggest you pop in a good dvd and hunker down in front of the telly for some veg prep. Otherwise, this is a breeze.

Ah, and nothing more satisfying than hearing the pop, pop, pop of the lids sealing after you take them out of the hot water bath! Get to it.

(And, a helpful hint: if you don’t have enough mason jars for all the pickles, you can also use leftover jars — like the salsa jar below; they just won’t seal, so you’ll have to keep them in the fridge and eat the pickles a little quicker. Poor you.)

Sunshine Pickles

Adapted from the Joy of Pickling

Makes 7 pints

Ingredients

-       7 lb. lemon or pickling cucumbers

-       1 lb. onion, halved and sliced

-       ¼ c. pickling salt (can sub. Kosher salt)

-       21 thin slices fresh, peeled ginger

-       3 ½ c. cider vinegar

-       1 c. water

-       1 c. honey

-       ¼ c. seeded, minced chile pepper

-       2 tbsp. yellow mustard seeds

-       1 tsp. celery seeds

-       1 tsp. ground turmeric

-       1 c. golden raisins

1. Peel, halve, and seed cucumbers. Cut lemon cucumbers into crescents; cut pickling cucumbers into 1-inch chunks. Toss cucumbers and onion with salt. Cover vegetables with ice cubes from 2 ice trays. Let sit 3-5 hours.
2. Drain vegetables. Rinse in cold water, drain well again. Put 3 ginger slices into each of 7 pint mason jars.
3. Using a large, nonreactive pot, bring remaining ingredients to a boil, stirring to dissolve honey. Add drained vegetables and slowly bring mixture to a boil. Ladle hot vegetables and liquid into jars, leaving ½-inch headspace. Close the jars with hot two-piece caps.
4. To ensure a good seal, process for 10 minutes in a boiling water bath.
5. Store jars in a cool, dry, dark place for at least three weeks before eating pickles.

Eggplants are not, however, the most tractable of the late-summer vegetables. They are easy to cook badly. They cook down to a flavorless mush, or they guzzle all your olive oil and then, spitefully, burn anyway. Their beautiful skins harden into undigestible hides. I know these things; they have all happened to me. Repeatedly. And yet…

And yet, there is something that appeals to me about their recalcitrance. Eggplants must, we are told, be ceremonially salted ahead of time; they have to weep out their bitter tears before working their magic. (There’s more poetry in that than you’ll find in an obliging tomato!) When eggplants are treated with a little care, they melt in your mouth and ooze with flavor, at once briny and smoky. When they are cooked well, they become, I think, the perfect food.

It may have been the same perverse spirit that attracted me to this eggplant dish of all others, which caught my eye in a negative recipe review over at The Kitchn. Despite the warnings of the reviewer, I couldn’t quite believe that Top Chef Kenny’s Hot and Sour Eggplant wouldn’t be every bit just as delicious as it looked in the photograph, with a few modifications. So, taking the suggestions of the reviewer to heart, I tweaked it liberally, and arrived at the recipe below.

This is the first eggplant recipe I have landed on that seems to work every time. I’ve made it with delicate young farmers’ market eggplants and tired old grocery store ones; it doesn’t seem to matter much. I’ve had it over rice and whole wheat couscous and Israeli couscous, skipped the red pepper, used store-bought curry powder instead of preparing my own, substituted chickpeas for tofu at the end depending on what’s on hand. No matter what, the tender, spicy, slow-cooked eggplant always seems to be exactly what I am craving when I take my first bite.

The one piece of this I would not vary: Do not be tempted to skip the step you find at the beginning of almost every eggplant recipe, which is to salt and drain the eggplant before cooking. After much recent trial and error, I have decided it is totally worth the extra effort, and it won’t even slow you down much if you leave the eggplant to drain while you are readying the other vegetables. It serves the triple purpose of extracting bitterness, concentrating flavor and removing excess liquid so the eggplant sautees more easily. Win, win, win.

Hot and Sweet and Sour Eggplant
Serves 4

2 onions, diced
1/4 cup vegetable oil

curry paste:
2 cloves garlic, diced or grated
2 tsp crushed red pepper
1 tsp grated fresh ginger
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp brown mustard seeds
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp turmeric

1 or 2 red bell peppers, chopped
2 large eggplants (or equivalent), peeled and chopped into 1/2 inch cubes

1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup coconut milk
1 block tofu, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

juice of 1-2 limes and 1 lemon
zest from 1 lemon
salt
cilantro leaves, chopped

Toss eggplant with two teaspoons of salt in a colander, let drain 30 minutes. Rinse eggplant, then drain again, pressing gently on eggplant to extract excess liquid.

Pound the curry spices together with mortar and pestle or the back of a spoon. In large pot, saute the onions in oil over medium heat until translucent. Add curry paste. Add peppers. Stir in the eggplant and turn up heat to medium-high. After 5 minutes, or when eggplant is beginning to brown, stir in coconut milk, sugar, and cinnamon stick and let simmer 20 minutes. Gently stir in tofu and simmer for another 10 minutes.

Add the lemon and lime juice and zest and salt to taste. Mix in cilantro. Serve over rice or couscous.

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.

Having been in Europe for spring and most of summer, I missed the opportunity to sign up for a CSA share.  I was devastated until I saw an announcement for a fruit-only CSA, only just starting in August and being distributed quite close to my new Brooklyn apartment.  In a euphoric fit, I signed up for a half-share.  I saw lots of stone fruits in my future (so does Cathy from Not Eating Out in New York!), as well as a few peach capreses.  But what to do with all that other fruit?  Enter canning!

I signed up to take a class at the Brooklyn Kitchen with a professional canner.  As scary as it seems at first glance (fatal food poisoning! Lots of boiling water!), it turns out that if you follow a few simple rules of thumb, your chances of accidentally growing botulism or causing yourself any other harm are actually quite low.  The rules are:  keep the acidity of your food high (or the pH low), keep the temperature of the food high, keep all of your surfaces clean, and keep the food in whatever form of processing you use for a sufficient amount of time (if applicable).

What do you need to can?

This is the equipment our instructor recommended:

- If you are using the water bath method: a large pot; a jar rack or lots of clean towels for the bottom of the water bath; jar tongs.

- A large pot for boiling water and sterilizing jars

- A smaller pot for sterilizing screw rings and lids (these do not need to be boiling) and a magnetic wand for lifting the lids out of the water.

- Canning jars, lids, and screw rings.

- A ladle and funnel for scooping the food into the cans.

- Clean cloth and paper towels.

What should you know about acidity and canning (and botulism)?

Not to wig everyone out, but the bacteria spores that cause botulism are actually found on most fresh food.  However, because they only grow where there is no air, botulism is a singular risk of canning, since in the process of canning you are removing all air from the area around your food.

Most food has a low level of acidity.  This is true for everything from poultry to peanuts, and it applies to almost all fresh vegetables (including the ones you would can).  Most fruits are more acidic, but may not be acidic in and of themselves to ensure safe canning.  In order to keep botulism and other bacteria out, you must ensure that the acidity of your food drops below 4.6 pH.  To do this, most canning recipes include lemon or lime juice, citric acid, or a vinegar (for savory foods like pickles and tomatoes).

Similarly, it is important to make sure that your food reaches a high enough temperature for a long enough time before placing it in a can.  It is recommended that food reach a temperature of at least 180 degrees Farenheit, either before being placed in cans using the hot-fill method or during processing in the hot water bath (see below).

There are three methods for processing your canned goods (processing seems to be a jargon-y term meaning to seal the can and ensure proper preservation):

- The boiling-water bath – after you have prepared your food and placed it in the jars, you place the jars in a boiling water bath, covered with at least three inches of water, for a prescribed amount of time to ensure a seal.  The USDA Canning Guide indicates processing times for many common canning foods.

- The hot-fill – this is best for small batches of more acidic food and smaller-sized cans.  By placing sufficiently hot food in a small can and immediately closing the can, you will create a vacuum that will in turn create a seal.

- The pressure canner.  I did not learn anything about this method, but apparently you cannot use it for making jams.

And now, for the main event: how to make something to be canned!

Blueberry Lemon Honey Jam

Ingredients

10 pints of washed blueberries

1 cup of honey

Zest of 3 lemons

Juice of 5 lemons (you can also use lemon verbena)

How to prepare:

Place all ingredients in a large pot over medium-high heat and bring to a boil.  After it boils, lower heat and simmer for about an hour.  Stir often to avoid scorching the bottom of the mix, particularly as the jam thickens.  Taste occasionally, add extra sweetener to taste.  We did not add any when we made this recipe.

Test to see if the jam is ready by placing a small drop on a plate that has been in a freezer.  When everything reaches room temperature, if the jam is ready it will remain congealed.  If it is not quite cooked down enough, a runny ring of water will form around the edge.

When the jam is ready, clean the lip of the jar an additional time using hot water and a paper towel.  Use the ladle and funnel to scoop the jam into the cans, leaving 1/4” headspace at the top.

Again, clean the inside and outside of the lip with a paper towel and hot water.

Using the magnetic wand, place the lids on the jars.  Remove the screw rings and screw tightly to jar.

We were using small jars, so we used the hot-fill method.  Allow the sealed jars to cool at room temperature until the lids pop, indicating they have sealed.

Because this jam is low in sugar, it will only last about 2-3 weeks once opened, and will store for about 2 years before opening.

I also love beets. They’re an odd, brightly colored, and healthy vegetable, and I will eat them just about any which way. So the odds were very good that I was going to love this dish, which is an appetizer involving beets. Yes, please.

The cooking time here is long, but nearly all of it is totally hands off. The main step in cooking is “throw everything in a food processor,” and you don’t exactly need to be Jean-Georges to pull this one off. So take the plunge and start making some appetizers at home if you don’t already. This spread is the perfect place to start: The experimenting has already been done for you, and I can promise good results.

Despite how much I love appetizers, I seldom make them. Food Junta is targeted toward busy people, because Claire and I are busy people. I love cooking a meal at home, but not so much that I want to spend 100% of my free time doing it. As a result, I tend toward one course meals supplemented with a vegetable or a salad or maybe both. “Whipping up some quick crostini” isn’t really a thought that crosses my mind at 6 pm on a Tuesday when I already have the rest of a meal to cook.

But I’m trying to do more appetizing in the kitchen, and there are some aspects of appetizers that are making this easier: They generally require fewer ingredients, fewer steps, and less (or even no) cooking. They frequently can be prepared completely or almost completely ahead of time. Finally – and somewhat counter-intuitively – I’ve actually found they make cooking dinner for other people to be a lot easier. But wait, you say, how can cooking more food make cooking easier?

Here’s how: No matter how carefully I plan, I always take longer getting a meal on the table for guests than I anticipate because I fail to factor in the time it takes me to welcome people, get them settled, fix them a drink, etc. This leaves me feeling rushed and anxious to get food out to my hungry guests. Not that my dinner guests have ever been impatient, but I think anyone who has ever hosted a dinner party knows exactly the feeling I mean. But, throw an appetizer or two in front of these people, and you can buy yourself all the time you need. By giving them something to nosh on, you can assuage your guilt about leaving them hanging and also – as is desperately needed with some guests – keep them out of the kitchen and out of your way.

“Here’s some beet spread, folks. Go wild, and I’ll see you in 20 minutes.”

Roasted Beet Spread
Adapted from the Bromberg Bros. Blue Ribbon Cookbook

3 medium beets (1 cup roasted)
1 medium red pepper (1/2 cup roasted)
1 medium red onion (1/2 cup roasted)
Salt and pepper

1. Roast the peppers over the flame of a gas burner, on a hot grill, or under the broiler, until the skin is black and charred. (The more you char, the easier the skin will be to remove.) Remove from the heat and place in a large bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit until cool enough to handle, about 15 to 20 minutes. With clean paper towels, wipe off the skin. Remove the stems and seeds and discard. If necessary, briefly rinse under cold water to remove any remaining charred skin. Slice or chop.

2. Rinse beets to remove loose dirt. Roast them whole and unpeeled in a 400 degree oven for about 90 minutes, or until you can pierce them through the middle easily with a butter knife. I wrap mine in aluminum foil and place them in a baking sheet, as beets tend to let off a fair amount of liquid and beet juice is a beetch to clean up. Let them cool, cut the tops off, and then the skins should be easy to remove with your fingers. Finally give them a rough chop, just small enough to go into the food processor.

3. After you start the beets in the oven, slice the onion, toss with a tablespoon of olive oil, place on a baking sheet or dish, and put in the oven with the beets. Cook until very soft. Cooking time will vary a lot depending on the oven, but mine took about an hour.

4. Combine beets, red pepper, and red onion in food processor. Add salt and pepper to taste. Process. If mixture is too think, add some olive oil. Taste and adjust seasoning. Chill. (The dip is good warm, but I think its better cold.)

5. Serve with warm pita.

I am a hoarder. Or, to use a more endearing term, a pack rat. Living in Minneapolis (ie with lots of space and a kitchen all to my own) has only encouraged this habit. All I can say is, if the Apocalypse (or a really big snow storm) comes, I’ve got plenty of sugar and flour. And toothpaste. For some reason, lots of toothpaste.

What I realized today, though, as I was spinning handful after handful of basil leaves into golden pesto, was that these days there is one socially acceptable (in fact, socially encouraged/deified) form of hoarding. I’m talking, of course, about canning/preserving.

If you haven’t heard that canning/preserving is in, then you must somehow be in the midst of an Apocalypse yourself. It’s everywhere, and was last summer too, but as the media catches up to the Great Recession, it’s really everywhere this summer. And as I surveyed my bounty (thus far) this afternoon, I felt an uncontrollable satisfaction, somewhat like the Ant must have felt. Two quarts of corn chowder tucked away in the freezer, two pints of somewhat ungelled but properly sealed strawberry preserves, one quart of dilly beans/carrots, and two quarts of “sunshine pickles” (recipe forthcoming). And now, four half-pints of pesto in the freezer, and a bunch more frozen basil on top of that.

So, today I’m going to talk about the basil/pesto, because freezing is by far the most approachable method of preserving (no hot water baths or fears of botulism), and freezing pesto is serious bang for your buck. Today at the farmer’s market, I bought three absolutely extravagantly enormous bunches of basil for $1 each. Additionally, I used probably 1/3 lb. of walnuts, at $5 a lb. (for about $2, rounding up). And then a good dribble of extra virgin olive oil, about 1/3 bottle from TJ’s (I can’t remember how much that was, but cheap). Traditionally one uses pine nuts rather than walnuts; however, pine nuts cost $32 a lb. (six times the price of walnuts!), and also, I wasn’t sure how well their more delicate flavor would survive freezing. Also, you leave out the cheese — usually Parmesan, but you could also use pecorino or asiago — when freezing, and add it in later, when you’ve thawed the pesto and are ready to serve.

Which is all to say, that making your own pesto, during the summer when basil is at its peak, is super cheap. Making your own pesto in the winter is another story. And buying pre-made pesto is yet another story entirely. So, make your own pesto!

Not to mention that making pesto is terrifically easy, assuming you have a food processor or blender. If you’re mortar and pestling this stuff, then maybe you won’t want to be working in bulk. But if you’re looking for quantity to last through the winter, then doing it all in one go is the best, for one simple reason: one-time clean-up.

I used Elise’s pesto recipe from Simply Recipes as a basic guide, more or less hewing to it, but I’m sure proportions were slightly different each time. David’s post from almost two years ago (two years ago!) really emphasizes how fungible the proportions are.

Oh! And to make this post even longer: What about the pure frozen basil, you ask? Well, it wasn’t just basil; it was basil whizzed with olive oil (no measurements, just dribbled in until the whole things cohered) and then spooned into an ice cube tray. Then, when it’s frozen, you can pop your basil/oil “ice cubes” out and freeze them in a ziploc, with them still staying separate. And then, whenever the mood strikes, you’ll have approximately a tablespoon of basil (with a little oil, but you’d almost always be using olive oil with basil anyway) at the ready. I’m not sure what I’m going to use my basil cubes for yet, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out. (Warning: I found these little buggers a little tricky to get out of the ice cube tray; if you have one of those flexible trays — as pictured above — I’d use that, and maybe give it a spray with olive oil cooking spray, if you have some handy.)

Basil-Walnut Pesto

Makes about 1/2 pint of pesto

Adapted from Simply Recipes

Ingredients

- 2 cups (packed) fresh basil leaves

- 1/3 cup walnuts, chopped and toasted

- 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

- 3 cloves of garlic

- salt, to taste (about 1/4 tsp.)

- freshly ground black pepper, to taste

- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, or other cheese (leave out if freezing, or, if you’re vegan — this is pretty great sans cheese)

1. Whiz basil, nuts, and garlic in food processor til they form a thick/slightly chunky paste. (Scrape down any leaves.)

2. With food processor on, add olive oil in a steady stream. The pesto should now be a more coherent paste.

3. (Add cheese here if you’re not freezing, with food processor going.)

4. Add salt and pepper to taste, pulse one more time to combine.

5. Spoon into a half-pint container (I just ask the nice employees at the deli counter of the nearest supermarket for empty ones). Freeze. Enjoy in the thick of January, when you have all but forgotten the taste of freshness.

My favorite thing about traveling is, by far, the food. With food as your excuse, you get to take a break from wandering though endless museums and churches and other famous monuments that Lonely Planet of Rich Steves insisted that you had to see. You get to relax, taste the culture of the city you’re in, and people watch. It gives you time to slip your camera into your backpack, toss it under the table, or over your white tennis shoes that give you away as an American tourist at first sight.

Because I like the food aspect of traveling so much, Spain is just about my favorite destination. Spaniards are known for taking multiple breaks throughout their day to sit back and enjoy their food. And with a cold beer under the sunny skies of Seville, kicking back in the plaza at lunch time, I did just that. And, I discovered something wonderful: Salmorejo.

Salmorejo, you ask? So did I. Everyone’s heard of, and probably tasted on multiple accounts, Gazpacho– a cold tomato and vegetable soup, famous for cooling you down on a hot summer day. Depending on where in the world you order it, it may come with the fixings (typically diced cucumber, onion, and tomato, and maybe some bacon bits or croutons) already tossed in, or they may be presented on a trendy platter on the side. But few, I think, have heard of Salmorejo.

Though I don’t know why. It’s quicker, faster and requires fewer ingredients. Plus, I think it’s more flexible, and even more delicious than Gazpacho.

Once you’ve got the base, you can go crazy with the toppings. In Spain, I saw it with cucumber slices, halved red grapes and diced boiled egg. At another tapas joint, I ordered it with slices of Jamón Ibérico and cilantro. You could toss on a garlic crouton or two. Maybe go crazy with some shredded cheese. If you’re doing this while entertaining, you might want to create a buffet or sorts with toppings and let people go wild. Totally up to you.

One thing to note: Because the recipe involves just a few, raw ingredients, the quality of your tomatoes and olive oil are pretty important. I admit that when I made it today, I had the cheapest olive oil that my German supermarket has to offer, and I wished that I would have splurged for something just a little more expensive. I also doubled the garlic it called for, because, hey– I like garlic. Next time, I think I’d stick to the recipe, because, hey– that’s raw garlic.

Salmorejo

From Esperanza Luca de Tena’s The Best 100 Tapas

1 kg (2.2 pounds) ripe tomatoes
1 clove garlic
1 cup bread crumbs
1/4 liter (8-9 ounces) olive oil
1 teaspoon vinegar (I used white wine)
Pinch of sugar
Salt and pepper to taste

+  Any toppings that you desire

1. Place tomatoes and garlic cloves in a blender; crush.

2. Add bread crumbs; pulse until blended.

3. Gradually add oil while blending.

4. Once all of the oil has been added, season it to taste, and then blend again at maximum speed for 2 minutes, to obtain an even blend.

5. Serve chilled and and with toppings of your choice.

The other day was shockingly cool here in Minneapolis (70 degrees or so, rather than the last few days’ 90). I had a refrigerator bursting with produce, most overwhelmingly including eight ears of corn, but also potatoes and onions from the farmer’s market. And cream, and milk that I meant to turn into ricotta but never did, and celery that I had purchased for some now-forgotten reason. And bacon, lots of bacon, in little ziploc baggies in the freezer (my new way of storing bacon in my one-person household).

In other words, to my happy amazement, I had (almost) all the ingredients for corn chowder. Plus, I had a backlog of podcasts on my computer, including the NPR broadcasts from the Newport Folk Festival. I don’t think it gets more fitting that that.

I had never made corn chowder before, but somehow I intuitively knew what it needed. For the most part, that is. After much recipe scanning, I was unable to find what I deemed my perfect chowder: one that was low fuss and high bacon, basically. I did glean that celery, carrots, and red bell pepper are typical chowder ingredients (surprise), and that thyme is a typical herby flavoring (expected).

In the end, I made my own amalgamation of things — more bacon than anyone called for; simmering the corn cobs in milk because I liked the idea; adding cream because I had it; so on and so forth. And you know what, it came out amazingly. Unsurprising, I suppose, when you throw corn, potatoes, onions, milk, and cream in a pot. Still, with Edward Sharpe playing in the background, it felt like a little bit of late-summer magic.

Corn Chowder

Adapted from a mix of Gourmet and Simply Recipes

Serves 6 or so

Ingredients

-       ¼ lb. (or more) bacon, diced

-       6 ears of corn, husked, corn kernels cut off, cobs reserved

-       1 onion, chopped

-       1 large carrot, chopped

-       1 celery rib, chopped

-       4 medium yellow-fleshed potatoes (like Yukon Golds), cut into ¼ to ½ inch dice (no need to peel)

-       ½ bell pepper, diced

-       7-8 cups whole milk

-       1 cup heavy cream

-       6 sprigs fresh thyme (or more), leaves pulled off twiggy stems

-       2 bay leaves

-       salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. In a large pot, cook the bacon until fat is rendered and bacon is beginning to brown. Using a slotted spoon, remove bacon, leaving fat.
2. Add onion to fat; cook 3-5 minutes, until soft. Add carrot and celery and cook for about 5 more minutes, until soft.
3. Break corn cobs in half and add to pot. Add bay leaves and milk. Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer. Cover pot (I leave a little gap of air to help the milk keep from boiling over). Let simmer for about 30 minutes. (You may want to check occasionally to make sure it’s on the barest simmer; this will help prevent the milk from scalding the bottom of the pan.)
4. Discard corn cobs and bay leaves. Add potatoes and red pepper. Add salt (I ended up using about 4 tsp., but you should add a tsp. at a time and taste) and pepper. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer. Simmer for 15 minutes or until potatoes are tender.
5. Add corn kernels and thyme; also add bacon back in. Add cup of cream. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer. Let simmer for 5-10 minutes. Add extra milk if necessary to get desired consistency. Adjust seasonings, and voila! Serve.