Summer Vegetable Torte

As I sat on the subway on my way to work the other day, there was a group of 'kids' (I feel weird saying that) talking and laughing awkwardly. I eavesdropped enough to pick up on the fact that they were college freshman who were in that fittingly awkward getting-to-know you phase of orientation. I laughed to myself as I watched and listened to them, clearly uncomfortable, one-upping each other with stories of badass high school parties, crazy nightclubs, and that time that they got caught by their parents. Part of me wanted to tell them that rather than being so uncomfortable, they might as well loosen up now, because they would eventually anyhow, and why waste time being anxious? My more cynical side wondered who would still be friends after four years, who would be eaten alive by New York City, and who had already decided that these were not the people that they wanted to be friends with. And then, just for fun, I wondered which girl was the sluttiest, which guy might be ashamed of going to college a virgin, who was lying about their past and if anyone was standing there with a smile, but secretly wanting to cry. Come to think of it, it's no wonder freshmen drink so much.

Four years ago, I would have been the girl who smiled, told her stories and stood there wanting to cry. Not because I was unhappy, but because I was scared. Shitless. Understandably so, I found myself in Canada, far from home, surrounded by unfamiliar faces who kept saying weird things like "eh." Well the long and short of it is that sooner rather than later I, too, was saying "eh." It was lovely and remained lovely, including the very unlovely moments that I complained about to no end. Seeing these freshmen on the train was the first time I really realized that I am done with school. It's actually kind of cool that back to school commercials are no longer giving me an awful sinking feeling in my stomach. I am also not busy calculating how many combined essay pages I am going to have to write this semester. And even more unusual, my job isn't just something to fill my summer days, but reality. It's bizarre, new and different, but rather than standing there wanting to cry, I feel refreshed, invigorated and excited. I guess on some days I also kind of wish that I were hearing a few more "ehs" around; alas, I suppose I will have to make the trek the Canada here and there. Problem solved.

This torte has nothing to do with any of this, except for the fact that it tastes like August. August, that once bittersweet month indicating the end of summer and the beginning of a new school year, the only type of year that exists when you're a student. Turns out that the flavors of August are just luscious. It's too bad that I have so often tainted them with negative thoughts of back-to-school, because they should be appreciated for their fleeting goodness.

Heirloom Tomatoes

It's official, I am addicted to summer. Very addicted. It's a problem. When it is a bagillion degrees out and everyone's freaking out because walking down the street barely seems feasible, there I am standing in the sun and wondering what the big deal is. On the flip side it's even more of a problem when I am indoors with air conditioners blowing at minus a bagillion degrees and everyone's final happy, except for me. Me? I am sitting there with full length pants and sweater, shivering and wondering what the hell is wrong with these people. Clearly, I have temperature issues. However, regardless of these minor frustrations along the way, summer just rocks, especially when squash, corn and heirloom tomatoes are beyond plentiful.

Of the summer harvest, heirloom tomatoes are without a doubt my favorites. Heirloom tomatoes fall into that cliche category of vegetables (ok, fruits) that, when bought in season, make you wonder why you ever buy those things that look like tomatoes when they're not in season. Every August, when those first sweet, juicy slices of almost technicolor tomatoes make their way onto my plate, I ask myself that question. Then as I take my first bite, I stop thinking and start enjoying, because needless to say these babies won't be around all year.

In my experience, the only problem with heirloom tomatoes is choosing them. So often they are marred with blemishes and cracks, that make them seem like they aren't 'good' when really that's how they should look. So, to make sure everyone is on the same page, I would like to offer a few heirloom tomato purchasing tips.

Shisito Peppers

If you were in New York City this past weekend, you know how brutally hot it was. If you weren't, I am going to assume that regardless of where you live, you've experienced brutally hot weather at some point. But no, I am not here to talk about the weather, although I find that I always have a lot to say on the topic....not the point. The point is, it was hot hot hot on Saturday and when invited my photographer friend over, I could promise her nothing more than a quick, easy and cold make-your-own salad for dinner.

Between our plan making and dinner, I felt a pang of guilt for not putting any effort into our dinner. After a quick peak in my fridge revealed a bag of shisito peppers that I had gotten at the market earlier in the week, I knew I had my solution. For those of you who don't know, shisito peppers are small green peppers that look a bit like jalapenos, but with a ribbed exterior and thinner walls and skin. These peppers are mildly spicy and are very popular in Japanese cooking, especially for tempuras and stir-fries. Anyhow, after spotting these in my fridge I knew that these would be my extra addition to our meal. Yes, the stove would have to go on, but it wouldn't be on for more than 5 minutes and the final result of slightly charred, blistery peppers to munch on was worth the few extra degrees in the kitchen.

Well my friend was definitely not disappointed in the peppers either and when I started babbling about shisitos, the market and god knows what else, she came up with a brilliant idea. When I have a 'market find' that I am so excited about, I should write about it here.

Pesto Potato and Green Bean Salad

I'm not a big fan of superlatives, the best this, the worst that, the coolest girl, the cutest guy, etc... It all just seems too extreme and too concrete. However, today I am making an exception to the rule because I think that everyone should know that the Union Square Farmer's market is one of the best places on earth. Now maybe I would think all farmer's markets are that great, but this is the one I know best and I just love it. As a cook, I have had a difficult time coming to terms with farmer's markets. So often the produce and ingredients they offer are so good on their own that the importance of my role in the dinner equation is essentially eliminated. I had to get over it when I realized that some of the best food I have eaten may not be because I am a good cook, but because I am a cook with good ingredients.

That being said, when I do use market fresh ingredients I do my best to keep things simple and avoid interfering too much . For example, in this salad the three main ingredients are potatoes, string beans and basil, all straight from the market, perfect on their own, but even better together. Now unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the final product because this was made at night and gone by the morning. So you're going to have to use your imagination to visualize the final result. It's easy, take the picture of the string beans and potatoes and tint it green. Not any green though, tint it the green of the pesto in the picture below. There you go. Looks good, right?

To keep things simple, this salad just tastes like a sum of its parts. Sweet, waxy potatoes. Crunchy, green string beans. Woodsy, biting basil. That's it and that's all you want from it.

Back to School/Indian Vegetable Curry

Starting school after a long vacation filled with adventures, friends and family usually fills me with an impending sense of gloom, no specific feeling per se, but an overall melancholic disposition. Surprisingly, today, every fold of my shirts and zip of my luggage is making me smile rather than tear up. Maybe it's because it's my last semester and the nostalgia of graduating is making me want to stay in college forever, or maybe the masochist in me is dying for some negative twenty-degree weather. That being said, even though going back to school isn't as troubling as usual, I couldn't help but feel a small pang of sadness when I locked my door this morning. It definitely helps that I left a little something behind so that my family would not forget me (at least not right away). This time, it wasn't world peace cookies, but a week's worth of lunch for my sister.

It looks like she'll be eating Indian vegetable curry stew for the next few weeks (oops I think I made too much of a good thing again), at least it is so good that there is no way she will get bored of it.

The Flavors of Spring/Fava and Pea Salad

There are weeks when I doubt myself more than usual, when all I want is some sort of external justification, I want someone or something to give me a reason to believe that everything is going to be OK, that people really do like me, and that it's inner beauty that counts. On weeks like these, I miss home, and when I miss home I do my best to bring home to me. Every spring, when the cherry blossoms start blooming and the baby ducks are following their mother in the 72nd street pond, my mother is insistent on weekly trips to the farmer's market. Aside from tradition, this is pure indulgence, whoever said that only cakes and sweets are indulgent, is just plain wrong. I am the first person to proclaim myself as a sweet tooth, but when I find the freshest, seasonal fruits and vegetables I can't help but think that they are the kings and queens of all things edible, that nothing, no matter how elaborate can surpass the flavors of farm to plate.
The one thing that my mom always buys without fail, are fava beans. Maybe it's that they remind her of her Italian roots, maybe it's that they taste like spring-in-a-pod, no matter what it is, they are always delicious. During our family reunion, we all sat around in the living room, peeling (and then peeling again) fresh favas, popping them one by one into our mouths, desperate to make the process go faster. But favas, like the arrival of Spring, can't be rushed. The methodical double peeling may seem tedious to some, but to me it is soothing, and when I taste the fruits of my labor it is worth the time spent doing it. Although I also enjoy peeling them alone, giving myself time to reflect, the best is sitting side by side with a good friend or a loved one, chatting and not seeing the time fly as the daunting pile of pods slowly dinishes. This also defines the stereotypical image of Italian women, sitting outside their homes doing some kind of handiwork, while chatting away with their neighbors. It's all part of a really beautiful experience, of nurturing, providing and creating. Nurturing the vegetables, providing food for your family and creating friendships and relationships that never really go away.
So, on weeks when the blue sky just doesn't seem blue enough and the heat is a burden rather than a joy, I turn to the flavors of home and slowly, everything falls back into place. This fava bean and sweet pea salad is a springtime staple in my house, the smoky pancetta is an ideal backdrop for the sweet peas and slightly more bitter favas. It is also, incredibly easy, because like I said, when it comes to good vegetables, little to no work is need to make it good.

My Mother's Spring Fava and Pea Salad
serves. 8
Time: about 40 mins., excluding fava peeling.
Notes:
•Frozen favas can replace fresh, just remember that they also have a skin that needs to be peeled off. Same goes for the peas (minus the peeling part).
•This recipe can easily be expanded or diminished, and the ingredients can be changed pretty easily, chopped asparagus and green beans are other great alternatives.

Ingredients:
• 3 c. sweet peas
• 3 c. peeled favas
• 1/4 c. cubed pancetta
• 3 med. shallots, thinly sliced.
• a few tbsp. olive oil
• sprinkle of coarse sea salt

Instructions:
1) Boil the peas and favas in salty water for 5-6 minutes each. Until, they are cooked through but firm. Set aside to cool.
2) Render the fat from the pancetta, until it is crispy. Spoon the pancetta onto a plate. Add 2 tbsp olive oil to the pan with the remaining fat.
3) Gently caramelized the shallots in the same pan.
4) Combine everything in a large serving bowl. Add a bit more olive oil and salt as necessary.
5) Can be served right away, or can be prepared the night or morning before and refrigerated.