do you remember when this was a food bl*g?

The best day of summer so far:

That brown dot along the tree line is a bear!

It ain't over 'til it's over. Summer, that is.

As the kids these days say, I B MISSING U. That would B U, bitches.

there's a nespresso machine in the apt. where we're staying

And I have every intention of squirreling it away in my bag to take home. Other things I plan to steal from Buenos Aires: our tango teacher, Anabella

(we've taken lessons nearly every day but still dance like a pair of monkeys, which is a huge improvement over when we first arrived and danced like a pair of donkeys); a recipe for licuados, a juicy, fruity drink that's like a smoothie without the dairy;

the open terrace doors of this apartment and the warm air that blows through them;

a milonga or two for late-night dancing;

a life of sleeping late and eating late and drinking malbec and dancing every day.

Fuck it, bitches, I'm staying.

donde esta evita?

Recoleta Cemetery is by far the most touristy place we've visited so far, popular perhaps because it's basically a beautiful little neighborhood with stunning architecture, mausoleums instead of mansions flanking the walks. Or maybe it's because Evita "Like a Virgin" Peron resides there.

melocoton

It's like riding a bike: no matter how long it's been, you'll remember exactly.

lo siento, no habla espanol

At this restaurant a security guard attached my bag to my chair with a zip tie to prevent its theft and instructed me to free it using a steak knife. Or at least that's what I imagined he said. At another the Spanish-speaking waitress fetched the English-speaking manager in alarm when we ordered chorizo. "You don't have this in your country," the manager explained. "It's like...how do you say...a hot dog without bun? Pork in tiny parts? Are you sure?"

hola, como esta?

The yachtsman and I have traded salted caramel ice cream for dulce de leche, a snowstorm for midsummer. GFD will be posting live from Buenos Aires for the next week or so, perras -- photos mostly, and only one at a time due to technical constraints. Just what you were hoping for, I'm sure: someone else's vacation photos. This one is of the keys to the beautiful apartment we're staying in.

Wish you were here...

the road to hell

I am not particularly goal oriented, but this week I'm determined to cook every last gorgeous vegetable in my refrigerator. Our friends the Palmenters have gone out of town (Connecticut, Mongolia) and in their absence generously made us the beneficiaries of their farm share. As far as I can tell, having a CSA is like subscribing to the New Yorker: Instead of a mailbox-ful of reading material, CSA shareholders are inundated with beautiful produce. But while the New Yorker has totally kicked my ass, I will persevere with this particular bounty, so help me god. Prepare yourselves, bitches. There will be vegetables.

These I smeared with goat cheese and dispatched, raw, to my stomach. Consider this a recipe for purple broccoli.

there is no gruel here

There are, however, pork boners. You heard me: pork boners.

Among other delicacies of the fair.


Including "the big pig"—an obscenely massive corn dog.


After all that food I had to force my delicate bitches on a ride, but ride we did.

Never winter.

guest post: SueShu

[This last guest post of the summer comes from the lovely SueShu, who can whip up dinner for twenty at the drop of a hat. Seriously. I've seen her do it. Here she suggests a delicious way to devour late-summer vegetables, and while her ever-optimistic son jshu suggested that eggplants are a turnoff to some and I should substitute "aubergine" for "eggplant" in this post, I've left SueShu's wording as is. Because if you don't like eggplants you haven't had them cooked properly, and this recipe would be the perfect place to start: On the grill!]

Grilled Eggplant With Tomatoes, Garlic & Cheese

When we returned from our family vacay in Western Maryland (during which not a single one of us had to cook a single meal), we found our garden had become a jungle. This is what happens when you don't pay attention to it for a week:


But, fortunately, there were some lovely fruits hiding in the overgrown mess:


Debaro, Cherokee Purple, and Striped German—varieties chosen mostly because I liked their names when I ordered the seeds back in March.

Also, fortunately, there were some nice little eggplants from our CSA, Colchester Farm, lurking in the fridge:


When I'd decided what to make with these, it was back to the garden to harvest some basil:


So, with these three things on hand (plus some feta or goat cheese—see below) here's what to do: Chop up the tomatoes to make a couple cups worth, add a couple tablespoons of chopped basil and/or parsley, and a couple cloves of garlic—in this case, a variety called Music, also from the CSA:


Mix it all together and let the flavors mingle while you slice the eggplants lengthwise into ½ inch slabs. (If using conventional, bigger eggplant instead of the Japanese variety, slice crosswise.)


Put the eggplant slices on a foil-covered cookie sheet (if you're lazy like me and don't want to have to wash that cookie sheet later), brush with olive oil, and sprinkle with sea salt.


Grill the eggplant for about 3 minutes per side. Put them on a warmed serving platter and cover with that foil, and let sit for about 15 minutes to soften. Remove foil and top with the tomato mixture, using a slotted spoon to leave most of the juices behind. Break up some feta or goat cheese over it all and serve—four as a main dish and six as a starter or side.

My plan was to take a picture of the dish before serving, but since we had a neighbor over for supper, I didn't remember until after we ate, so here's the "finished" version, which we had with local sweet corn:


This makes a great breakfast (cold) the next morning, although your garlic aura will remain with you through the day. But on the other hand, you won't be bothered by vampires.

From Martha Rose Shulman's column in the NYT, July 16, 2010. (She called it Eggplant on the Grill.)

how i spent my summer vacation

We return now to our regularly scheduled programming.

boo

Do you know what I'm scared of? Global warming. Contracting a toe fungus at the nail salon. Getting old. Grover from Sesame Street. Flying. Making pie crust.


In my experience, fears usually fall into one of several categories. Global warming and getting old are among those almost-too-big-and-terrible-to-think-about fears that are best addressed by professionals—in this case NGOs staffed with youthful idealists and metaphorically by poets, respectively. Toe fungi and Grover from Sesame Street are both things that could inflict harm. Flying in a plane and pie crust are frightening because they're illogical: A metal canister carrying hundreds of people traveling 36,000 feet in the air without anything holding it up? Madness. Flour and shortening and water coming together to form a flaky, buttery pie crust? Not in my experience.

But most of my fears are unavoidable, or not as bad as their alternative: I'm getting old right now as I type this; my unpedicured feet are far more frightening than any toe fungus could ever be; Grover is out there, lying in wait; my fear of spending the entire winter in Vermont trumps my fear of flying.


And I've tried to conquer my fear of making pie crust, but the results have just reinforced my anxiety: quiches baked in shells that tasted like cardboard; crusts that were spongy or tough, never tender or flaky. So I avoid recipes that call for a crust, which means I don't often make pies, or quiches, or tarts. And while I don't care too much for most dessert pies, I do love a good quiche, or a savory tart filled with vegetables and cheese.

So I was quite pleased several years ago to discover a recipe that bills itself as the Easiest-Ever Roasted Summer Vegetable Tart, a recipe that involves savory vegetables and cheese BUT NO PIE CRUST. Neither Grover nor air travel are involved, either.

(This name is an overstatement, of course—the Easiest-Ever Roasted Summer Vegetable Tart is the one someone else makes and serves to me while I lounge on the couch drinking wine, which would make this one the Second-Easiest Roasted Summer Vegetable Tart.)


The secret is puff pastry. While store-bought pie crusts tend to suck it, store-bought puff pastry is delicious, and while every female in my family except me can make a beautiful pie crust, according to the cookbook from which I've adapted this recipe "almost no one (not even most pastry chefs) makes puff pastry." Hallelujah.

Hallelujah! Puff pastry has risen! When baked it transforms from a thick, sticky dough to a flaky butteriness that is not only better than cardboard, it rivals any pie crust I've put in my piehole. And there's nothing to be scared of. Top it with roasted vegetables, sprinkle with goat or feta cheese, and you'll never have nightmares of pie crust again.


A few notes:

* I use Dufour puff pastry because it was recommended to me, and it's delicious. Dufour is made with butter (vs. shortening), but if you're vegan, there are other options.

* Puff pastry comes frozen and takes awhile to defrost, so move it from the freezer to the fridge a few hours before you plan to start cooking.

* The original version of this recipe was vegan (I added the cheese, because if there's one thing I'm not afraid of, it's fat) and easily could be again.

* The original recipe calls for making two tarts, which uses only half a package of puff pastry. I usually roast extra vegetables to make three or four tarts (the tarts reheat well), but it can make for a crowded oven, so I've used the original proportions here. Two tarts and a salad will serve two or three adults for dinner, or they can be cut into squares and served as an appetizer.

* The original version of this recipe calls for cutting the vegetables into thick planks for roasting and then carefully layering those planks on top of the puff pastry; the second time I made this I cut the vegetables too thin, they fell apart a little while roasting, and I ended up chopping the roasted vegetables before putting them on the pastry—they don't look as pretty, but the cheese disguises any major flaws, and I've done it this way ever since. But if you're going to forego the cheese (scaredy cat!), I would make sure the vegetables are all at least ½ an inch thick so they'll hold their shape when roasting and can be placed daintily on the puff pastry.

Second-Easiest Roasted Summer Vegetable Tart
From A Year in a Vegetarian Kitchen

1 14-ounce package frozen puff pastry
6 plum tomatoes, halved or cut in thirds lenghwise, depending on size
4 medium shallots, halved
1 medium zucchini, cut in half crosswise, each piece cut lengthwise into ½-inch-thick planks
1 medium eggplant, cut crosswise into ½-thick rounds
s&p
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon minced thyme
Goat or feta cheese

1. Defrost the puff pastry according to package instructions.

2. Move an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 400 degrees. Spread the tomatoes and shallots on one rimmed baking sheet and the zucchini and eggplant on another. Sprinkle the vegetables with salt and pepper. Roast, turning the vegetables once, until golden brown in spots, about 40 minutes. Remove the vegetables from the oven but don't turn the oven off.

3. As soon as the vegetables go into the oven, unfold the puff pastry on a lightly floured work surface and remove the paper liners. Cut the pastry along the seams into four rectangles. Put two rectangles aside for another use. Roll the remaining two rectangles into 7-inch squares. Transfer the rolled puff pastry squares to a large baking sheet and refrigerate until well chilled, about 30 minutes.

4. When the vegetables come out of the oven, scrape them into a bowl and toss with the oil and thyme. Adjust the seasonings, adding more salt and pepper to taste. Either roughly chop the vegetables and spread them on the puff pastry, leaving a ¾-inch border around the edges, or layer the eggplant and zucchini slices over the puff pastry and then top with the tomatoes and shallots (using the same ¾-border). Sprinkle the tarts with goat or feta cheese (or a combination of both).

5. Bake the tarts until the pastry is browned, about 25 minutes. The tarts can be served immediatly or transfered to a cooling rack and served at room temperature.

please

Dear Summer,

I know you're thinking about leaving me—maybe not now, or next week, but soon—and I'm writing to beg you to stay. It's true that I've been busy with work, and we haven't had much time for our favorite things, like swimming and biking and walking to the creemee stand. But I swear I don't take you for granted, and I would never be unfaithful. I have not looked twice at the cooler, almost autumnal days that have passed through lately, no matter how beautiful they were. I don't want Fall, Summer, I want you. Don't you get it? We belong together. I love everything about you: your long, light-filled days and dreamily warm nights; your lush green fields and trees; the abundance you bring of flowers and fruits and fireflies; the way you throw your arm around my shoulders to keep me warm; how well you feed me. I even love your afternoon thunderstorms and heat waves; your mosquito bites and bee stings. While I can barely stand the tourists with whom I share you, if a state full of French Canadians and flatlanders is the price of keeping you around, I'll pay it with a smile (or maybe a long lean on the horn—seriously, people, where did you learn how to drive?). Please, Summer, don't go.

Always yours,

Kate

stop whatever you are doing & make this soup

Because you know what? I am on a cold-soup roll, which isn't some kind of bun that's served with vichyssoise, it is the unstoppable momentum achieved by making two delectable cold soups in a row. First there was the Thai Squash Soup, and now I offer you this: Creamy, Garlicky Gazpacho. Don't usually like gazpacho? You'll like this version. Don't usually like garlic? Use less. Don't usually like cream? Seriously? You don't usually like cream? That's fine; there's no actual cream in this creamy gazpacho; the soup gets its velvety richness from my new favorite food, sheep's milk yogurt (all other yogurts are dead to me now). This soup will be your new best friend, which is good, because no one else will want to come near you for a solid 24 hours after you've eaten it. But like I said: If you don't usually like garlic, use one clove instead of two.

A few other notes:

* This soup is so easy to make, you have no excuse not to try it.

* The recipe calls for a garnish of fried Parmesan crisps, which are easy to make when they don't totally fail (see below), but if you don't feel like exerting the extra effort, just grate a little cheese over your bowl before you eat. Or don't—the Parmesan is not essential.

* Go on now, start cooking.

Creamy, Garlicky Gazpacho
Adapted from the New York Times, which in addition to recipes also publishes all the news that's fit to print. Who knew?

6 tablespoons grated pecorino Romano
2 large tomatoes (about 1 pound), cored and roughly chopped


1½ cups (12 ounces) plain sheep’s-milk or regular yogurt [Use the sheep's milk. That's an order.]
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
12 basil leaves, roughly chopped, more for serving
2 large garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped
2 scallions (white and light green parts), roughly chopped
2 ice cubes
1¾ teaspoons kosher salt, more to taste
1½ teaspoons red wine vinegar, more to taste
Pinch cayenne pepper
Ground black pepper to taste.

1. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Spread 2 tablespoons cheese into a thin layer in skillet; let melt and brown on bottom, about 30 seconds to one minute. Use a spatula to flip cheese; let cook until evenly browned on both sides, about a minute more. Transfer fried cheese to a paper-towel-lined plate. Repeat with remaining cheese, working 2 tablespoons at a time. Break fried cheese into large pieces. [About half the time, my browned-on-one-side layer of cheese squinched up into a tasty but unattractive blob when I tried to scoop it up with the spatula for flipping. The rest of the time things worked out OK.]


2. To make soup, place tomatoes, yogurt, olive oil, basil, garlic, scallions, ice cubes, salt, vinegar, cayenne, and black pepper in a blender. Purée until smooth. Taste and add more salt and vinegar, if necessary. Pour into small bowls and garnish with pieces of fried cheese and chopped basil.


3. Resume whatever you stopped doing earlier.