Figs

Quinoa and Fig Salad with Feta, Pistachios, and Za’atar Vinaigrette

quinoafigsalad

Figs are the sexiest fruit. Aside from their feminine shape and sweet, squishy interior, they’re sexy because they’re elusive, at least in these parts. The New England–grown figs I’ve eaten have been dry and disappointing. A good, ripe fig spews its jellied guts when you take a bite. I guess there’s an exception to the “better local” rule.

But California figs, if you can get your hands on them, are awfully good. My favorite variety of those I’ve been able to try isn’t the slinky purple Black Mission Fig, but the green Kadota. I can eat only one at a time; they’re diminutive but their sweetness is concentrated and it goes right to my head. That’s why I never use them in desserts; they can’t take the sugar.

Continue reading

This Right Now

Cucumber and Gooseberry Salad with Feta and Mint

toss salad

You can only eat this dish right now. Well, you can most likely eat it a week from now, and you could have eaten it a week or two ago. But this salad will taste good for only a short amount of time. That’s a lot of pressure.

Summer dishes have an urgency to them. If you mark the passing of time by the produce calendar, they can incite anxiety. But that’s what makes them special. That they are fleeting makes them worthwhile. A winter supermarket tomato may look like a tomato but it doesn’t eat like one; it’s not a tomato. An in-season one is sweet as a ripe peach and its walls are just as tasty as its guts. Winter storebought herbs are brittle and musty. Summer herbs are tender and supple and so fragrant you can’t quite get their smell out of your kitchen, even if they’re stashed in the fridge. The allure of these short-lived flavors provides me with the energy to make a balanced meal at the end of exhausting, sun-soaked days. If I don’t eat all the things now, I won’t get my fill. It will turn cold and I will stare at mountains of just kale and beets for months.

Continue reading

Feeling It

Lentil and Rhubarb Salad with Fried Halloumi

lentil, rhubarb, halloumi

Feeling completely myself, I am not. But I’m working hard to fix that (overdoing it, probably), and I’ve unearthed a little bit of the old me. I’ve missed it.

You may have noticed that I’ve been absent from this space. Or maybe you haven’t. I mean, I’m not Smitten Kitchen here. But I had checked out. I haven’t read your blogs either.

It bothers me when blog authors (well, the ones who don’t make money from their blogs) apologize for being absent. It bothers me not because I find it arrogant, but because no one should have to apologize for something that’s not his/her job. I guess I’m good at looking after others’ mental health; my own is a different story. So I’m not apologizing, but I’m being honest about the absence because, yeah, I’ve not been feeling well; yeah, I’ve been dealing with “stuff”; yeah, I’ve been a little stressed. But, really, most weekends went by without me developing and testing new recipes and documenting it, because I just didn’t feel like it. I don’t ever want to come to this space if I’m not feeling it.

Continue reading

The Expected and the Unexpected

cutty’s

I have always admired those who can successfully sell simplicity. In the food world, being simple isn’t easy. Frills can cover a multitude of sins. When complicated concoctions are stripped of their bells and whistles, they often fall flat due to less-than-perfect execution. Simplicity is also easy to ignore. Take the typical potluck dessert table. A beautiful tarte fine will almost always end the night missing only a few polite slivers, while that mammoth ganache-covered, dragée-encrusted, white chocolate curl-adorned, mini chocolate chip-packed chocolate cheesecake with a name like “chocolate explosion” will always be the first to go, no matter how it tastes.

Well, Cutty’s sandwich shop is an example of simplicity that cannot be ignored. When I work in Brookline Village, I’m there once a week, and that’s a lot for someone who nearly always packs a lunch. For a long time, I have hesitated writing a review of my go-to lunch spot. For one, it’s very well-known now, and I don’t need the line to be any longer or the specials to sell out any faster. Although it warrants it — of course, it warrants it — it seemed like writing a review of Cutty’s would be like writing a design piece on the furnishings of a neighbor’s home or a “hot or not” assessment of a best friend’s fashion choice.

Continue reading

Portland Part II: The Knick Knacks

Portland, ME is a Pajama Jean kind of town. It’s a Pajama Jean town, because it’s a bakery town, a specialty food town, a fine dining town, a fresh produce town and a bagel town. You get the idea. It’s a place where you wonder who makes you more angry: that guy who just got the last Sicilian slab at Micucci Grocery or the sadistic jerk who decided to fasten pants with buttons and zippers. Either way, a weekend in Portland is always bound to be a delicious journey. Although my mom and I planned our girls’ weekend around our Fore Street reservation, some of our most memorable bites were enjoyed in-between meals.


Continue reading