Raw Summer Squash Salad

Best Thing I Cooked This Week

Friends of mine recently signed up for a CSA share.  You know, that program with the mystery boxes. Community Supported Agriculture they call it.  Once a week people in communities all over America pick up or are delivered a cornucopia of local farmers delights- asparagus and peas in April, corn and tomatoes in August, and the usual assortments of greens and other good-for-you produce. 

But as my friends have discovered, more often than not, their box includes an abundance of certain vegetables that, though they may grow like weeds this time of year, are not part of their regular cooking repertoire for two adults and two children under the age of two.  (“Help!” She once wrote.  “What do I do with all these radishes?”)

On the upside, the couple has grown increasingly fond of some vegetables they would never have purchased in the past.  Kohlrabi, for instance, now regularly gets sliced and added to stir-fries.   

But sometimes, particularly in this abundant time of the year, the mystery box overwhelms their culinary imagination and leaves them facing an unused pile of produce with no clue what the next move should be.

After a recent visit I was the beneficiary of my friends’ excess, helping them to make a smoky eggplant dip out of an oversized version of the purple nightshade.  I also took home several summer squash and zucchini vowing to use it in a way that would be novel for me.

As a child, the texture of cooked zucchini and yellow squash led me to dramatic gagging episodes at the dining room table.  (I have only somewhat matured past that stage.) A raw salad on the other had would protect against any displeasing texture and bring new possibilities for seasoning with fresh herbs, nuts, and maybe even cheese.

The mandolin made quick work of the squash, slicing it into paper-thin sheets in a matter of minutes.  I then squeezed over the juice of a couple lemons and let the two hang for a couple of hours.  The acid from the lemon was just strong enough to gently soften the squash without disintegrating.  To finish dressing the salad it needed little more than good olive oil, salt, and pepper.  As I had some basil on hand I tossed in a good handful of torn leaves.  For crunch I threw in some slivered almonds.  Finally for a bit of tang, some crumbled cotija cheese.

That night a few girlfriends who were over for dinner gobbled the salad down.  Two days later, I made another batch for myself for a light lunch.  The combination of squash, cheese, nuts and herbs I settled on was delightful but I could have easily substituted pine nuts for the almonds, parsley or mint for the basil, and feta or shaved parmesan for the cotija and would have been perfectly happy.  Between the CSA’s, farmer’s market and friends’ personal gardens, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of chances to keep experimenting.

Raw Summer Squash Salad

Serves: 4

1 large zucchini

1 large yellow summer squash

2 lemons

3 T. olive oil

Salt 

Pepper

handful of basil, torn or cut in a chiffonade

1 oz. Cotija cheese (feta would be nice, as would shaved Parmesan)

¼ cup slivered almonds

Slice the zucchini and yellow squash thin on a mandolin or with a thin, sharp knife.  Squeeze the juice of two lemons over.  Let sit for a couple of hours until the squash has softened a bit and soaked up the lemon.  Toss with olive oil, basil, crumbled cheese, almonds, and salt and pepper to taste.  

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Vacation Smackdown

 OR, How to Eat Your Way to a Holiday

Sri Lankan Pork Curry and Curried Green Beans

There are many ways to choose a vacation, but few (at least that I’ve heard of) involve a weekend-long smackdown.  Needless to say, John and I have never been the types to take travel lightly.  Our holiday destination this year wouldn’t just present itself in the form of a friend’s wedding, or family reunion.  No, our vacation location would have to work for it. 

Several months ago we had been tossing a few ideas back and forth for a late June holiday.  We knew some serious discussions would need to be had, and fast, if we were going to book flights and rooms before prices turned astronomical.  After batting around a few locales (Burma- monsoon season, Peru- winter, Nepal- too hot) we whittled the global list of possibilities down to a surviving two.  Sardinia has long loomed in our gustatory and beach fantasies and yet never had either of us set foot on those fabled sandy shores.  On the other hand, both of us had been to Sri Lanka, but we had such a good time on our last visit, we considered visiting for a second time in just two years.

With no clear champion between the finalists, John decided the best way to form a conclusion was to have the countries face off in a weekend-long analysis of the pros and cons.  We were having a vacation-off. 

Geographically and culturally Sri Lanka and Sardinia fall on opposite ends of the spectrum.  So to measure these against each other we decided on some clear categories for comparison- logistics (flight times, number of legs), cost (flights, hotels, in-country transport, expected food prices), and (obviously) food.  It is worth mentioning that because Sri Lanka and Sardinia are both blessed with the sort of fairy tale beaches one thinks only exists in the glossy pages of travel magazines, we called the beach requirement a draw. 

Surprisingly, even though Sri Lanka is a full 4000 miles further away from New York than Sardinia as the crow flies, it was not necessarily quicker to get to.  Limited flight times and the number of connections meant total travel time to either destination was about the same. 

As for cost, Sri Lanka would be the more expensive plane ticket.  However, we read enough travel blogs to know that we should expect to pay handsomely for mere decent accommodations during the Sardinian high season.  And food, well, even if a plate of pasta in Sardinia is cheap for Italy, nothing can beat the $6 per person curry and rice specials in Sri Lanka where dishes emerge from the kitchen in quantities no person in their right mind could finish.

Cookbooks used for reference in the cooking smackdown

That just left the cuisine.  Since we are not the types to travel to Thailand and end up eating at a German schnitzel restaurant, the local foods would need to be meals we not just tolerated but loved.  So it was we started the weekend with the Sardinian specialty, fregola, and finished the smack down with a Sri Lankan pork curry. 

The fregola I cooked slowly with diced tomatoes, sweet sausage, and chorizo.  I stirred in parsley at the end for a good herbal kick.  John lapped up his dish and declared that it should be a permanent additional to our household dinner rotation. 

Two days of research and debate later I was working on our pork curry lunch when it hit me.  I’d made up my mind where we should go this summer.  But first we needed to eat. 

Fregola with sweet sausage and chorizo

John had been out running errands and walked back into our apartment to find the powerful aromas of cinnamon, ginger, and lemongrass wafting from a wok where the aromatics were simmering away with cubes of lean pork shoulder.  I stood back from the stove as he leaned over to inspect my work and dip his finger in the sauce for a taste.  

“I think I know what we should do.”

He cocked an eye.  “Really?”

“Yep.”  I handed him a fork and he speared a cube of meat.  He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. A look of blissful meditation passed over him while he chewed.  He let out a slight groan and slowly fluttered open his lids.  “Want to guess?” 

A smile crossed his face.  “Well, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking right now….” 

The aroma of cinnamon, fiery heat of the curries, beauty of the white sandy beaches, and smiling faces of the people on this Pearl of the Indian Ocean were all calling our names.  For this year at least, the smackdown was settled and Sri Lanka declared the victor.

Sri Lankan Spiced Pork

(adapted from “The Exotic Tastes of Paradise” by Felicia Wakwella Sorensen)

2 lb. lean, boneless pork shoulder, cut into 1 inch cubes

Salt

Pepper

3 T. vegetable oil

3 shallots

1 inch piece of ginger

3 cloves garlic

6 curry leaves, or 3 bay leaves

2 inch piece lemongrass

2 inch piece cinnamon

1 T. paprika

1 T. ground coriander

1 T. ground cumin

1 tsp. chili powder

¼ cup white vinegar

1 ½ c. water

Pat pork cubes dry.  Season on all sides with salt and pepper.  Heat oil in a large wok over medium high heat.  Working in four batches, brown pork on all sides.  Remove browned pork to a platter using a slotted spoon and repeat with remaining uncooked pork.  While pork is browning, peel and thinly slice shallots. Peel ginger and julienne.  Peel garlic and finely chop.  Once all pork is browned and resting on the platter, add shallots, ginger and garlic to the wok (if wok is dry, add additional 1 T. vegetable oil).  Stir fry garlic and ginger for two minutes until fragrant.  Add curry leaves, lemongrass, cinnamon stick, paprika, coriander, cumin, and chili powder. Stir-fry for another 60 seconds until fragrant.  Add vinegar, water, and browned pork to the pan.  Bring to a simmer then cover with a lid and reduce heat to medium low.  Cook covered until pork is very tender, about forty-five minutes.  Remove lid and return heat to medium high.  Simmer until liquid has reduced to a thick sauce.  Taste and adjust seasoning with additional salt and pepper if desired.  Serve with rice. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Breakfast Rebel: From Grilled Cheese to Dumplings

Vanessa's Chicken Dumplings for breakfast

I sometimes pity my mother.  Trying to feed me as a child couldn’t have been easy.  There was a crazy diet and a long vegetarian phase, but those came later.  Harder must have been the elementary years.  When most kids were happily munching on Cheerios and PB&J’s, I would blanket reject entire categories of foods. Sandwiches: gross. Juice: too sweet.   Yogurt: only acceptable direct from the refrigerator- I wouldn’t touch it once it had turned to liquid sitting in my lunch box for a couple of hours.

Breakfast in particular was a daily battle. I hated cereal, cold and hot.  Toast was out of the question, especially when it was the whole-wheat bread my mother painstakingly made from scratch each week (oh what I wouldn’t give for that bread today!).

Finally, after many a sunrise conflict, my mother brokered a compromise: I could eat anything I wanted for breakfast, as long as I ate something.  So for my entire sixth grade year, each morning I would wake up and grate cheese.  You see bread, even my mother’s thick wheat bread, was okay as long as it sandwiched gooey melted cheddar and was toasted to buttery perfection on a skillet.  Grated cheddar was the staple ingredient in my other breakfast go-to that year, when spread between two tortillas and toasted until the cheese oozed out the sides.  So I spent an entire year eating grilled cheese sandwiches and quesadillas for breakfast, which in my opinion were two perfect foods, perfectly suited for the most important meal of the day.

In some ways much has changed since those years.  I still eschew cold cereals but have grown to love those multi-grain hot cereals and rolled oats that I cringed at as a child.  I’ll eat toast, as long as it is from a good bakery, and eggs, as long as they are fresh from a farm.

But part of this rebellious breakfast spirit still lingers.  On a recent morning, for instance, none of my usual choices looked appetizing.  But staring up from a basket in the pantry were some gnarled Okinawa potatoes I had recently purchased.  I pierced a couple and microwaved them for a few minutes until tender.  A pat of butter dripped and disappeared down the chasms formed in the sweet, soft purple flesh. A sprinkle of sea salt later and breakfast was served.

For anyone who appreciates the ritual of dim sum, the idea of savory dumplings for breakfast is far from foreign.  Asians in general take a much less sweet approach to their morning larder.  Dumplings, pho, congee- these are the nourishment of early morning hours in their countries of origin. 

It is in that vein perhaps that I have added a new, nontraditional, non-Western breakfast to my occasional morning routine.  On a recent visit to Beijing street-food style restaurant Vanessa’s Dumpling House, I was thrilled to discover their delectable handmade dumplings are available to take home frozen, by the bag of thirty.  Not living exactly near either their East Village or Williamsburg locations I thought what better way to satisfy my dumpling cravings than keeping a ready supply in the freezer at all times?

Little did I realize that such a craving would not hit at the usually mid-afternoon snack time hour, or dinnertime, but around nine am one weekday morning as I trolled through the cupboards looking for something other than oatmeal to fill my rumbling belly.

Four dumplings went straight from the freezer and into a small pot of boiling water.  Eight minutes later I fished them out with a slotted spoon, deposited them in a bowl, and doused the dish with black vinegar and a good squeeze of Sriracha.  Eating with a side of miso soup, it was a breakfast my eleven-year old self would have been proud of. 

My poor mother.  All those years I thought I was being a rebel, insisting on breakfast that was anything but normal fare in our small California town. Turns out the sort of savory food I was craving, millions of people were already eating, granted most of them were half way around the world. Thanks to handmade frozen dumplings, interesting sweet potatoes, good bakeries, and well, my own adult kitchen, I can now eat whatever I want for breakfast, as long as I eat something. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell  

From Caracas to Cartagena with Arepas

Arepa Maker in Cartagena, Colombia

When Caracas Arepa Bar first opened it would be safe to assume that 95% of the hipsters lining up outside the doors of their diminutive East Village shop had never tasted an arepa before. Now, nearly ten years after the first store opened on East 7^th Street, the love of New Yorkers for Caracas Arepa Bar’s signature item has allowed the trailblazer to open outposts in Williamsburg and Rockaway Beach (fate TBD post-Sandy) as well as double the size of the original by expanding to a sit-down restaurant next door.

New Yorkers, it would seem, have discovered arepas are not just a passing food fad bound to go the way of the cupcake shop, but a real, honest meal that is completely crave-worthy on a daily basis.

Like many, my first taste of an arepa was at Caracas- the restaurant, not the Venezuelan capital for which it is named.  I instantly fell for the pita pocket-like cornbread stuffed with various grilled meats, cheese, and vegetables.  Having been weaned on tacos in Southern California, the concept of a corn-based wrapper enveloping meat was not new. But these were a different beast altogether. 

John with a grilled arepa

Unlike a taco, an arepa is a thick patty of cornmeal.  The dough is then cooked- grilled, steamed, baked, or fried. A slit is then made to form a pocket in which any manner of filling can be stuffed.

It is to Caracas Arepa Bar I owe thanks for my excitement around a recent trip to Cartagena, Colombia.  In Colombia, like Venezuela, arepas are a common street food consumed by rich and poor, from the narrow, impeccably preserved lanes of the Old City to the shantytowns and working class suburbs. 

It did not take more than a hundred feet of walking on our first evening in the walled city of this UNESCO World Heritage site before we ran into our first vendor.  The disks of partially cooked dough were piled high the man’s cart like a mound of white hockey pucks. The vendor fanned a small mound of charcoal beneath the grill attached to the side of the cart where he would throw on the arepas to reheat as customers called out orders. 

Eating arepas in Old City Cartagena

It wasn’t until the next day, however, when we went out searching specifically for this national dish to fill our hungry mid-day bellies.  We found what we were looking for in front of the line for the Hay Festival- a posh literary gathering- the vendor doling out food to well-dressed intellectual types waiting in line for an author event.  It appeared even the bookish get hungry for arepas from time to time. 

At our signal two arepas were thrown on the grill.  Once charred, the vendor cut a deep pocket and into which he spread a bit of butter.  He opened two cubbies holding grated cheese and cooked ground beef. He stuffed the filling into the pocket to the point of nearly bursting.  Topped with a bit of hot sauce and washed down with a limonata, it was an ideal lunch.

Deep Fried Breakfast Arepa

Out at a beach resort a day later, it was a pleasure to find the local specialty on the menu as a breakfast item.  Here the pocket was stuffed with deliciously seasoned minced beef and raw egg before being sealed and dropped into a deep fryer.  Crackling crisp on the outside, the shell broke open to reveal a deeply meaty, moist interior. 

Egg filling

As it stands, it may take a flight to South America to find myself in a place where arepas are as common as tacos or a slice of pizza.  But if Caracas Arepa Bar keeps spreading the gospel of their signature food, maybe more people will discover what a bunch of intrepid eaters in NYC did a few years ago: arepas are damn delicioso.

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell