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.

What is the best way to deal with a 95-degree day, with an ungodly amount of humidity to boot? Probably not by going to hot yoga in the middle of the day, to practice down-dog in an 100-degree room. Yet, that is what I did yesterday. And then I came home, took a cold shower, and sat in front of a fan and ate a bowl of this soup. After that, I stayed pleasantly cool for hours. Was it that a nice chilled soup pleasantly lowered my core temperature? Or that nothing could possibly seem hot after an hour of warrior poses in an excruciating sauna?

This soup is a lifesaver in a heat wave. Absolutely no heat required! And — in this unblended version — not even the heat of an electronic appliance. Just some chopping, and peeling, and measuring of spices and pouring of juice. Nothing too arduous, and the final result shows off summer produce at its best. Plus, it will last for at least a week in the fridge (trust me, it’s happening). As far as I’m concerned, as long as something is tasty, I don’t mind eating it over and over (and over) again. So why not make up a walloping batch of this and be able to stay out of the kitchen for days?

Where did the cantaloupe come from? Well, I was eating half a cantaloupe for breakfast (another heat-avoidance strategy) immediately before commencing gazpacho production. Bite of cantaloupe, look at gazpacho recipe, bite of cantaloupe, look at gazpacho recipe. An idea was born.

The cantaloupe makes this soup feel all the more refreshing; bright and lively. You can add a little more freshly chopped cantaloupe mid-week, also, to perk the whole thing up after it’s been in the fridge for a while.

There are a lot of ingredients here, but basically no steps (combine, chill). (For a slightly heartier, pureed version, take a gander at Liz’s salmorejo post from the start of summer.)

Gazpacho with Cantaloupe

Serves at least 8

Adapted from the New Moosewood Cookbook

Ingredients

-       6 cups tomato juice (just the kind you buy in a jug at the grocery store)

-       4 tomatoes, finely chopped

-       1 onion, finely chopped

-       2-3 cloves garlic, minced

-       1 green bell pepper, finely chopped

-       1 cucumber, peeled, seeded, and finely chopped

-       ½ cantaloupe, finely chopped*

-       2 scallions, finely chopped

-       1 lemon, juiced

-       ½ lime, juiced

-       2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

-       1 tsp. chopped tarragon

-       1 tsp. chopped basil

-       ½ tsp. cumin

-       ¼ c. parsley, chopped

-       2 Tbsp. olive oil

-       salt, black pepper, and cayenne to taste

* The easiest way to “chop” a cantaloupe is to cut it into quarters, score it, flip it inside out, and then cut it. I found that I needed to make two horizontal cuts in order to make the cubes as small as I wanted them (rather than just slicing all the cantaloupe flesh straight off the rind).

1. Combine all ingredients. (Optional: puree all or some.)
2. Chill until very cold.

This semester, I am on campus for lunch two days a week. I know — a measly two days is nothing. You, dear reader, are probably at work for lunch five whole days a week. Well, all the better for you. Because I’ve had to start thinking about how to pack my lunch.

What did I eat for lunch when I was a working woman? Good question. A lot of cafeteria food (no, no woe is me, we’re talking Conde cafeteria here). A lot of Midtown Lunch recs. Leftovers, sometimes, if I was being good. One of the big differences between eating lunch at work and eating lunch at school is that when I was eating lunch at work it was almost a daily requirement to at least go to the caf, to stretch my legs and take a break and probably run into some friends (the Conde caf is nothing if not a better-dressed high school cafeteria with long lines for sushi). At school, I don’t need the break, I need something fast, and cheap, and healthy. And maybe, wherever you lunch, you do, too?

Enter tabbouleh. Certainly not just for lunch, but a perfect lunch candidate. You can make it ahead (it will keep for some time — a week? more?); you can tote it around with you sans refrigeration (at least in Minnesota winter); it’s filling; and it isn’t terrible for you, not by a long shot.

A Middle Eastern “salad,” true tabbouleh is actually supposed to be mostly parsley. That’s probably delicious, too, but not quite as lunch-worthy; more of an appetizer, or part of a dip platter, which is how tabbouleh is traditionally served. But since I wanted to break tradition a little and incorporate more bulgur (more heartiness), I went all the way and used this recipe from the Food Network’s own doyenne of Hamptons-style luxury, Ina Garten.

Couldn’t be better — a mix of crunchy vegetables and chewy bulgur, a bright burst of lemon juice, a pick me up from the parsley. Serve with romaine lettuce leaves for extra crunch, maybe some broiled chicken breast (that you’ve doused with ground cumin pre-broiling) for extra protein, and homemade hummus (recipe coming next week) for a little added richness.

Tabbouleh

Serves 6, I’d say

Adapted from Ina Garten

Ingredients

• 1 cup bulgur (cracked wheat)
• 1 1/2 cups boiling water
• 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (2 lemons)
• 1/4 cup good olive oil
• 2 teaspoons salt, or more, to taste
• 1 cup minced scallions, white and green parts (1 bunch)
• 1 cup chopped fresh mint leaves (1 bunch)
• 1 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley (1 bunch)
• 1 hothouse cucumber, unpeeled, seeded, and medium-diced
• 2 cups cherry tomatoes, cut in half
• freshly ground black pepper

1. Place the bulgur in a large bowl, pour in the boiling water, and add the lemon juice, olive oil, and 1 teaspoon salt. Stir, then allow to stand at room temperature for about 1 hour.

2. Add the scallions, mint, parsley, cucumber, tomatoes, 1 teaspoon salt, and the pepper; mix well. Add more salt and/or pepper to taste, and serve or cover and refrigerate. The flavor will improve if the tabbouleh sits for a few hours.