On a Kick

I'm definitely the person who can play a music album over and over and over again and not go insane. In fact, I once drove from Lexington, VA to Washington, DC with "Linger" by the Cranberries on repeat. Not the album. Just the same song for 3 hours straight. I was clearly in the car alone. Lately I've realized I also have this strange "repeat behavior" with food. Until about a week ago, I ate a whole wheat English muffin with almond butter and sliced apple for breakfast every morning for 4 months straight. I don't know what you call that. OCD? . . . Creature of habit? . . . Good taste?

I do prescribe to the philosophy that variety is the spice of life, so I'm not really sure what this little caveat of repetitive eating is all about. Maybe it's because my brain is tired at times and can't think of anything else to eat? As much as I love food, there are some days when I wish we could take a magic meal substitute pill and get all of our required nutrients without the bother of eating. But there are also days when I'm really craving something and when I have it, I realized how delicious it is and I want it again the next day, and perhaps even the next. Maybe my body is actually missing a nutrient and therefore is fixated on having it? But that doesn't really seem applicable to pizza and wine, which my body seems to want every single day.

My current culinary obsession is a raw kale salad. I know, that probably threw you for a loop there. Maybe I have been in California too long. I'm not sure I ever even had kale before this stint. Growing up on collard greens, kale seemed like a red headed step child. You just didn't eat it. I'm not even sure you could buy it in the grocery store. But I've seriously eaten this salad about 3 times a week for the last month. My poor friends who've been unlucky enough to join me for dinner several times during this period have started turning down invitations for fear of me serving this salad to them yet again.

I read a lot of food blogs and magazines, and it just seemed like all of a sudden everyone was talking about kale salad. Whoever is the kale sales rep out there is doing an excellent job. It was like, "I got to get some of this kale stuff!" So off I went to the grocery store in search of kale. But I got there and realized there several types, of which I know nothing about. I was totally eavesdropping on the produce guy talking to this college student about the different options. The funny part is that I'd already made my selection but was still fake-browsing in the vicinity to see if I'd chosen wisely. It turns out the black kale or Tuscan kale (I think officially called Lacinato kale) is what the dude was singing praises about, so I had to wait a reasonable amount of time to make my subtle kale swap. I think he was mainly partial to it because it was local and fresh, but regardless I'm now also a big fan of it because it's delicious! [It's also super nutritious. You can read all about that here if you're interested.]

I can see why it's also called dinosaur kale as each leaf is bluish-green and bumpy — almost warty. It tastes a whole lot better than that description may inspire. It's got a subtle bitterness because it's full of iron but it's not overpowering. It's more in the class of an herb-infused martini, if you can imagine that. It's got a leafiness and freshness to it but it's not like you feel like you just ate a handful of grass. It's more like slightly bitter cabbage. Once you remove the ribs, you just chop it up for the salad. I have done several iterations now and my favorite is to add chopped granny smith apple and candied pecans, along with my other staple ingredients: crunchy croutons, grated pecorino for some saltiness, and a tangy lemon vinaigrette laced with just enough red pepper flakes to add a hint of heat.

It's such a great combination of textures and flavors. It's truly addictive and a welcome change of pace for a nice Fall salad. It's special but simple. It would make a great side dish for Thanksgiving because the kale won't wilt like lettuce so it could stand up for a lengthy meal. It would also be a wonderful counterbalance to the richness of many of the standard side dishes you typically find on the Thanksgiving table. Don't be surprised, though, when there are no leftovers to enjoy.

Kale Salad with Lemon Vinaigrette

Ingredients

4 cups black kale

1/2 - 1 cup fresh bread crumbs (I just take a piece of whole wheat bread, tear it into chunks and toast in a dry skillet for a few minutes)

1/2 cup fresh grated pecorino cheese (could substitute parmesan)

1/2 granny smith apple cut into matchsticks

1/4 cup candied pecans, chopped

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/3 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice

1 garlic clove, smashed into a paste with some salt

dash of red pepper flakes

pinch of pepper and more salt if needed

Directions

Lay the kale leaves flat on the side so the rib is exposed on one side and cut out the rib. Stack the "de-ribbed" leaves and cut into 1/4 inch ribbons and place in a large bowl.

Make the dressing by combining the olive oil through the salt and pepper. If the dressing is too tart, add a few drops of honey to mellow out the flavors.

Dress the kale with some of the dressing and allow to sit 5 minutes. Add in the apple, pecans, bread crumbs, and cheese and toss together. Add more dressing as needed.

Have Your Cake and Eat it Too

I like cake, but am no fan of frosting.

When I'm at a wedding or birthday party, I happily eat around the icing like crusts on a PB&J. My mom used to make naked cupcakes for me when I was little, sparing my allotment from any icing contamination. Even ice cream cakes seem misnamed. In my mind, it's supposed to only be ice cream in the shape of a cake. Like the name advertises, right? We don't need no stinking icing on it. I think the issue is that icing's just too sugary for me. I know, the irony. . . . This is coming from a girl who drinks Coke, which has a shocking 39 grams of sugar — or almost 10 sugar cubes — in a can, but somehow it's disguised as a refreshing beverage. Icing on the other hand is just a big ole mouthful of whipped sugar that seems excessive and unnecessary. It probably won't shock you to hear that I was also not the person who would upend a can of ReddiWip and spray a mound into my mouth. Easy Cheese yes, but whipped cream no.

Since I'm talking about my food idiosyncrasies here, let me also tell you where I stand on crispy cookies. Far away from that jar. You see, I like my cookies chewy and bendy. I don't see the point in taking a bite of a cookie only to have it crumble to nothingness in front of your eyes and all over your lap. I religiously under-bake my homemade cookies in an effort to achieve the perfect point of chewiness, which is risky because it can often come out like raw dough. While I used to eat a lot of raw cookie dough (if you've ever been in a sorority, you know what I'm talking about), it's not really something to serve to guests. Although one time I did serve a truly inappropriate dessert to guests. I was in middle school and my friend Megan and I decided to make Rice Crispy treats for a barbecue. We were gabbing and stirring the marshmallows on the stove top with a rubber spatula. I lifted up the spatula after the contents of the pot looked good and melted — only to find that the spatula had melted INTO the melted marshmallows! This was obviously before the days of silicone cooking utensils! Like many thirteen year olds, we don't always make the best judgment calls. So Megan and I just kept making the treats, wondering what's the worst that could happen. Well no one died of poisoning, but the Rice Crispy treats had an undeniable plastic-y taste to them.

One of my favorite things about Halloween is pumpkin! Not pumpkins but canned pumpkin you use for pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, and other lovely pumpkin treats. I don't know why we don't bake with it year-round. I love the homey spices and the subtle sweetness — not like a mouthful of icing. My friend, Val, posted a photo on Facebook last week of a big, beautiful plate of pumpkin cookies she'd just made. In truth, I'd just returned from the gym, yet my first thought was, "Let's go to the store right now, buy all these ingredients, bake these, and then eat them for breakfast!" Sad but true. Yes, I loved that they were pumpkin, but I could also tell that these were not your average crispy cookie. Oh no, these were like mini domes of cake! With no icing to ruin them!

Well, I did manage to wait a few days to make these, and served them as dessert to a group of girlfriends who came over for dinner on Friday. They were just as good as I imagined, with a moist texture, hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, and studded with semi-sweet chocolate chips for the perfect foil.

They were truly the best frosting-free cakes disguised as cookies I've ever had. I could easily have thrown back two dozen of these, but I did the right thing by sending my friends home with the majority of these cake-cookies. I did say majority. I admit to keeping a small Ziploc bag of these delights. And I'm happy to report I ate the last one for breakfast this morning (as soon as I got back from the gym). Now I see why people bake with pumpkin only once a year. It's too tempting otherwise.

Pumpkin "Cake-Cookies"

Although I have several different recipes, which were very similar, I decided to go with this one posted at One Charming Party

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/2 cups shortening

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup canned pumpkin

2 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp cinnamon

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Directions

Preheat over to 350 degrees. With a mixer, cream the sugar and shortening for 3-4 minutes. Mix in the egg, vanilla and pumpkin. In another bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder and cinnamon. Add flour mixture to the pumpkin mixture. Mix until just combined. With a spoon, stir in the chocolate chips. Drop spoonfuls onto a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper (or lightly greased) and bake for 10-15 minutes.

Little Miss Sunshine's Soup

When I was little, my parents always sang "You are my Sunshine" to me. That's what they called me, their Sunshine. They said it was because I brought so much brightness to their life. I think it was because I seemed to run off the sun, the battery to my Energizer Bunny. If it was sunny, I was sunny. Just like there are beach people and mountain people, I think there are rain people and sun people. I'm rooted fully in the sun camp. I can feel a physiological and psychological response when that Vitamin D comes into contact with my skin. If I was an animal, I'd definitely be that cat who's always napping happily in the sun.

It's probably a good thing I live in Santa Barbara, where we get less than 15 inches of rainfall and more than 300 days of sun each year. Because when it does rain, I become a walking zombie. It feels like my hands are in vats of quicksand as I type on my laptop. My eyes feel like they never really open for the day. I find myself drinking an inordinate amount of Coke even though it seems to have no affect. And I'm really not that pleasant to be around.

Last Saturday it started to rain. And it's rained and rained and rained ever since. We even had lightening and thunder a few days, which is almost unheard of around here. The poor animals were ill-prepared. But I think we put a pretty good dent in that 15 inches of rain in just the past 5 days.

While normally I'd be all sleepy and pouty about it, this time I was actually happy to see the rain. It's ridiculous but I've had this lentil and chorizo soup recipe I've been dying to make. I've been traveling a lot lately, and there is something so comforting and restorative about a pot of soup simmering on the stove as you curl up on the sofa and read a book in front of a fire. And it is Fall, people. Halloween is right around the corner so it seems like a little cool, rainy weather is called for to help get us in the mood.

On an aside, I can't think of Halloween without recalling the mishap with the angel costume my mom made me when I was in kindergarden.

It was a beautiful white satin gown, and I had a sparkly halo made from silver Christmas tinsel wrapped around a bent coat hanger and cardboard wings covered in aluminum foil. We were living in Ft. Leavenworth, KS at the time, and the weather always took a precarious dip just as Halloween arrived. My mom wouldn't let me go trick-or-treating in my costume unless I wore a sweatsuit underneath. Of course when you're a kid you have no temperature gauge and I told her I'd be fine. Being the good mom she is, she refused. The real issue was not that I had to wear an extra layer for warmth. Oh no. It was that I didn't have a plain white sweatshirt. The closest thing I had was one with Mickey Mouse plastered on the front. When I put my costume on over it, low and behold, you could see Mickey through my ethereal gown! That just would not do! Who's ever seen an angel sporting Mickey Mouse on their ensemble?! I threw a hissy fit and refused to go trick-or-treating. Well, that lasted about 10 minutes once I realized I'd miss out on the one day a year where you're encouraged to go up to strangers and ask for candy, even if it meant looking like a moron angel.

So back to the soup I happily made in the rain . . . . This recipe called for lentils, butternut squash, fennel and tomatoes, which sounded delicious and quite healthy. But I was looking for some good comfort, so the addition of chorizo was more than welcomed.

I love chorizo with its overtones of sweet and smokey paprika awakening my taste-buds. I enjoy just eating it solo slice after slice, but it's also amazing to cook with, adding incredible depth and that certain "what exactly is that I'm tasting that's blowing my mind?" Uh, it's chorizo. If bacon is to the South, chorizo is to Spain. It's got just as many uses and, just like bacon, everything tastes better with it.

This recipe calls for fresh tomatoes, blanched, seeded and then diced. If you still happen to have a few lovely lingering tomatoes at the market as we do, follow this easy trick. Cut an "X" in the bottom of each tomato and plop into boiling water for 1 to 3 minutes. The cut allows the boiling water to loosen the skin so it peels off in a snap. The same technique works for peaches.

But if it's past season, you could certainly use canned whole tomatoes and then seed and dice them. I also just wanted to say that sometimes garnishes seem totally unnecessary and I shrug them off. But I must implore you to go the extra step and add the paprika dusted creme fraiche. The creaminess finishes the soup off and adds a lustrous layer to it that your tongue will love you for.

The rain did pause, at least momentarily, around sunset today, and I took a walk along the beach. For some reason I haven't spent much time there this year. But boy did it feel good to inhale that salt-water air and feel the soft sand beneath my feet. And also made me kick myself for not taking more walks on the beach at sunset. It is glorious.

With the dampness still clinging in the air and the temperatures dropping as I walked back to my car, I looked forward to going home and heating up another bowl of this comforting soup. But as I head to bed tonight I'll be praying for sunshine.

Lentil Soup with Chorizo and Paprika Cream

Ingredients

2 cups dry lentils

2 carrots, peeled and sliced

4 tomatoes, blanched, skinned, seeded and then diced

1 cup peeled and diced butternut squash

2 bay leaves

3 celery stalks, diced

4 garlic cloves, minced

1 red onion, diced

1 leek, white part only, chopped finely

4 thyme twigs, chopped finely

1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped

4 cups chicken stock

4 cups cold water

2 Tbsp double concentrate tomato paste

4 oz Spanish chorizo

Creme Fraiche

Dash of ground paprika

Directions

In a large pot, heat two Tbsp olive oil over medium heat. When warm, add the onion, leek, celery, chorizo and thyme and sweat for 4 minutes, stirring but not browning. Add the garlic and continue to cook for 1 minute. Add the tomato paste and tomatoes and cook, stirring, for two minutes.

Add lentils, carrot, butternut squash, parsley, bay leaves, water and stock. Bring to a simmer and season with salt and pepper. Cover and simmer for 20-30 minutes or until the vegetables are soft. Salt and pepper to taste. I like my soups more pureed than brothy so I took maybe 4-6 cups of the broth and veggies out (trying to avoid the chorizo) and blended it in a blender to puree.

Add a Tbsp creme fraiche with a dash of paprika (or mix together before adding) on top of each serving of soup. Serve immediately. Yields: 6-8 people.

Girl Scout Cookies and Wine

A wise woman once said, "God never slams a door in your face without opening a box of Girl Scout cookies." After admitting I'd been in a funk for most of September, these words couldn't ring more true. The problem is there are no Girl Scout cookies to be found right now. While Thin Mints are my absolute fave, I felt like I needed something a little more indulgent. That could only mean one thing: I was in desperate need of some Samoas. I think these may be called Caramel DeLites now, but they're still the same vanilla cookies dipped in caramel, rolled in coconut and striped with chocolate. I recall having a friend sleep over once in middle school where we each devoured a box of these beauties in about an hour. We may have ended up doubled over in pain afterwards, but all I remember is the richness and delight of these square cookies with a hole punched out of the center — and wondering why they didn't give us the holes to eat too because it was an utter shame for those to go to waste.

Since I consider myself a resourceful person, I turned to the internet to see if I could find a recipe for Samoas. I found an intriguing one for Samoa blondies that seemed quick and easy. [*Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!*] The reviews were glowing too so this seemed like the perfect solution. The recipe included the core ingredients (brown sugar, chocolate, coconut. . . ), even though they were being presented in a more unconstructed manner. How bad could it be? Well, let me tell you. Awful. Inedible is actually the word I'd go with. As bleak as things seemed for me, I still couldn't force myself to get a whole one down. So into the trash these went. . . .

I then recalled a recent quote from another wise woman, which was, "From now on, let's just drink our dessert!" In that moment, this seemed like a much more appealing approach to soothing myself. As luck would have it, just then my friend invited me to join him for the Santa Barbara County Celebration of Harvest. While it may not be Girl Scout cookie season, it is harvest season in Wine Country and that's definitely something to celebrate! And by celebrate I mean the opportunity to sample 112 wineries on a stunning day in the Santa Ynez Valley. That trumps even a box of real Samoas!

We made the beautiful drive out to Rancho Sisquoc, the event host, which is a treat in of itself. Although the Santa Ynez Valley is just an hour away from Santa Barbara, you feel completely transported to another world when you cross the San Marcos Pass.

You enter a world of rolling, golden hills; row after row of grapes growing like wild hair out of the Earth; and cows making long, dark shadows on the hillside. When I think of the "Happy cows come from California" ad campaign, I'm pretty sure they are referring to these particular cows.

The day was gorgeous and the winery was the perfect backdrop for the event. Olive, oak and walnut trees line the rustic property with white tents popping up every few feet showcasing some of the county's best wines. Many people were exposed to the Santa Barbara Wine Country through the movie Sideways. It resulted in Sideways tours, memorabilia, menus and lots of inside jokes with the locals. [BTW, I heard this is happening in Bali now after the release of Eat, Pray, Love.] Thankfully the attention didn't go to our winemakers' heads. It's really just given them some long overdue recognition for indeed making some of the finest wines in the United States. The region's unique patchwork of microclimates has created a "perfect storm" for growing amazing grapes, ergo amazing wines. I love the winemakers for keeping it real and keeping it small. It's an honor to routinely taste a boutique wine with only 500 bottles produced. It's artistry in the highest sense.

Although I'm a staunch red lover, the 90 degree temperatures made me long for some light whites or rosés, which are a little harder to come by in this area known for its Pinot Noirs and Syrahs. But when you're tasting the best, who can complain?!

Highlights from the day were: having Kurt Russell (actor and now new wine maker!) pour me a glass of wine, every single Ken Brown wine I tasted, a beautiful white Rhone varietal blend from Curtis, and watching a group of drunk twentysomethings from LA hit on all the cute wine pourers. Poor girls. Great entertainment though.

After a late afternoon drive through the country, the day ended with a stop at one of my favorite foodie outposts in Los Alamos: Flatbread Full of Life. This gem is open to the public only on the weekends when they convert their production bakery space into a restaurant and invite the neighbors and community to gather around the stone hearth and enjoy freshly prepared flatbreads.

The menu changes according to the fresh ingredients they pick up at farmers' markets and local artisan food producers. The result is some of the most simple yet sublime food you'll put in your mouth. While they also have an insane wine list, after a long day of wine tasting, nothing beats an ice cold beer!

So I'm healed. Well, maybe not all the way, but it's been a whole week since I searched for Girl Scout cookies on ebay (as I type this with a glass of wine in my hand). And I'm back in the saddle and looking forward to cooking more and sharing it with you. Happy Fall!

Burger Nation

People assign hot dogs the title of "America's food," but I beg to differ. For me, it's a burger. It's the first thing I want to eat when I return from a trip out of the country. While burgers are not something I traditionally crave, it seems to be the only thing that can hit the spot when I'm back in the good ole USA. Having just returned from a trip to Europe, I've had burgers on my brain ever since I passed through customs. However, a trip through the McDonald's drive-through is not exactly what I had in mind. I wanted a proper, homemade burger. Not a ladylike one, but one all juicy and messy, requiring a dozen napkins and possibly a shower afterwards.

I'd cleaned out my refrigerator before I left, so there was nothing in it except condiments. Since one cannot live on mustard alone, I made the trek to the Farmers Market yesterday. Of course I was delighted to see a bounty of vibrant vegetables and made sure to pick up a pound of peaches while they're still around. As I walked through row after row, I found myself increasingly distracted. There was this intoxicating aroma seducing me. At Farmers, my olfactory system is usually enticed by fragrant dried lavender, notes of citrus, and the earthiness of root vegetables. But this time, there was a note of sweet onions, punctuated by grilled meat and possibly bacon. I mean, Lord have mercy, is there a combination more compelling when you're hungry and feeling grateful to be back home? But this was definitely a very non-Farmer's scent which left me feeling disoriented. I was in Santa Barbara after all, which is not known as the mecca of meat, but it was unmistakeable. A burger. Someone was grilling a burger. I found myself weaving through the rows with increasing speed to find the source of this intoxicating scent.

And just on the outskirts of the market was the Burger Bus. They've created a cult following in Santa Barbara. I had yet to partake in their "simple yet sublime" burgers though.

The scent emanating from the bus (which is literally a refurbished school bus — a short one at that!) has magnetic power. I was like Wimpy from Popeye's cartoons, who was often seen walking like a zombie in pursuit of a burger, the scent leading him like a leash. I literally walked up to place my order and realized in shock and horror that I'd just spent my last dollar on a half-gallon of organic, fresh-squeezed orange juice from Ojai. No diss to the Burger Bus, but they didn't accepted credit cards. There was no way I was going to walk away from that bus without a burger.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, right? Which in my case meant finding the closest ATM. I remembered seeing a temporary one somewhere in the Farmers Market maze, but where? I was getting (admittedly) a bit crazed at this point and knew I'd be carted away — without my burger — if I had to run like a madman in and out of each row until I found the elusive ATM. So, like a dog with his tail between his legs, I slowly and reluctantly approached the Farmers Market Association table and asked them where the ATM was. The subsequent dialog was one I knew was coming and was embarrassed to participate in:

"Excuse me, sir. Is there an ATM here in the Market?"

"Well, you can buy a gift card here that any vendor in the market will accept as cash."

"Umm, yeah. But I would actually prefer the cash."

"Oh, don't worry. Each vendor will happily take this card. It's just like cash for them."

"Well, you see, err, I, umm, I'm not planning to use the money in the Market. I don't want to buy any organic, homegrown, nutritious vegetables. I actually want to walk across the street and buy a big, fattening, mouth-watering burger that's been teasing me for the past 30 minutes and has lead me to wonder how anyone can ever be a vegetarian."

The poor guy was obviously taken aback but did kindly point me in the direction of the ATM, after which I was finally able to place my order at the Burger Bus. The burger was delectable and definitely worth the wait. This post is long enough already so I'll spare you the details of the burger other than it was *awesome* (imagine me saying that in a very sing-songy manner which is what I do if something is mind-blowingly good), but it did get me thinking about how amazing burgers can be.

Burgers are my mom's favorite meal. It's what she wants my dad to cook for her on her birthday. I have to agree: It's hard to beat a homemade burger. But sometimes we have to substitute the "homemade" part for a purchased one. No offense to my dad's barbecuing, because he's a master, but some of the other options are downright good. Case in point, the Burger Bus. I have never thought to put a burger on a ciabatta roll [right now I know my Southern friends are cracking up over that detail], but let me just say you shouldn't knock it unless you've tried it, especially if it's homemade from Our Daily Bread and completely light and pillowy. [Having just said that, you'll never catch me eating a burger on an English muffin. That's just wrong.] I've also never thought to put jalapeño jelly on it, but will do so again because it's so dang tasty, sublime even.

Another amazing burger I've had was at Pirate's Cove in Josephine, AL, not far from my grandmother's. This burger, swabbed in a drippy and delicious gin-mustard sauce, has been named by Garden & Gun as one of the 100 Southern foods you must try before you die. If that isn't a compelling accolade, I don't know what is. Last time I was there was over Thanksgiving. It was "off-season," so definitely mellow there, which was a welcome change of pace from the bustle of the summer boating season.

It's one of those joints where you're gonna drink out of plastic cups, may not find toilet paper in the bathroom, but will most certainly find oodles of drunk wisdom graffitied on every available surface. My recent favorite was, "Why am I so thirsty this morning when I drank so much last night?" Amen to that!

But what if you can't find the Burger Bus or can't make the trek to Josephine, AL? Are there other acceptable substitutes? In California, In-N-Out Burger definitely gets top rating.

Almost as cultish as the Burger Bus, people covet this fast-food burger, which, to their credit, is very un-fast-food-esque. It's the closest thing you'll ever get to a homemade burger from a drive-thru. They keep it simple and focused: Burgers, fries, and shakes from the freshest, highest quality ingredients available.

And did I mention how nice they are there? It's like a little shot of Southern hospitality and always makes me feel closer to home.

There are quality burgers and then there are quality burgers on the fly. For me, no one holds a candle to the South's Krystal Burgers. Their tagline is "Nothin' Like It" and I have to agree.

Is it the best burger I've ever had? No, but it's the one that is associated with more life moments that I cherish and would never trade. Whether that is eating with my dad and his parents at "Crishtals" or grabbing a 12-pack (of burgers, that is) with friends as the early morning sun rises after a late night out on the town (Bill and Terry, you know what I'm talking about). There is something addictive about this tiny slider crafted simply from a steamed bun, French's mustard, grilled onions, crisp pickle, and grilled beef patty. It may seem pedestrian but it does something good to your soul.

I will often fly from Santa Barbara to New Orleans for the holidays and then drive to my grandmother's house in Bay Minette, AL. Even though I land beyond starved after traveling all day and consuming a tiny bag of pretzels, I joyfully hop into my rental car, bypass the Cajun culinary calling (which is not easy to do!), and drive the three hours until I reach Exit 13 on I-65. Granted it's only minutes from my grandmother's house, where delicious food gluttony awaits, yet I find myself unable to resist the pull of Krystals. I simply must stop for at least 2 squares. That's my rationale at least. Two Krystal's can't ruin your appetite, can it?

The truth of the matter is it can, but when you've got Monk's cooking awaiting you, you make room!

Before It's Too Late

I don't know about y'all but I feel like summer's almost over! Even though it seems like it just arrived (thanks to the foggiest summer in the past 52 years in Santa Barbara), kids, parents and teachers alike are already preparing to head back to school. I'm starting to feel a bit of panic set in, like I have to really take advantage of these final weeks. So before it's too late make this interesting summer salad. Interesting. . . . hmmm, maybe not the most compelling adjective I've ever used to entice someone to make a dish, but it seems the most honest.

When I think of summer, I think of shiny, golden corn, as well as dark, darling blueberries which you can't resist popping into your mouth by the handful. Both are excellent representatives of summer's bounty — and both center stage in this salad. It's a weird combination but a definitely good one.

I don't know if I could eat a quart of this, but I do think it makes a refreshing, tasty and somewhat exciting side dish for a picnic, BBQ or beach banquet. Maybe that's why people call such things "side dishes," because although delicious you may not want to make it your entire meal. I mean do you really want to eat a pound of baked beans? They're enjoyable but perhaps offer a diminishing return the more you eat. But seriously, sometimes slaw or potato salad — no matter how much you love them — seem so blah. Some days you need to mix it up a bit. I think this salad qualifies.

I admit it was the unusual combination that piqued my interest and was compelled to give this a try. I found this surprising combination is actually quite stunning when all is said. There is the sweetness from the roasted corn; punctuated by the smokiness of the cumin and subtle heat of the jalepeño; which collectively is then foiled up by the crunchy, cool cucumber; and is finally perfectly balanced by the tartness of blueberries.

You're supposed to let this refrigerate overnight but I made this as a jerk reaction when I got home from farmers market and accessed my purchases. I did make enough to sample the next day (because like I said this is best eaten as a side dish), and I agree that the depth and delight of flavors only intensified with time.

Even though this may sound like a weird combo, do try it before summer runs out. It will surprise you . . . like the beauty of summer can.

Corn and Blueberry Salad

From Better Homes and Gardens

Ingredients

5 ears fresh corn, husked

1 cup fresh blueberries

1 small cucumber

1/4 cup sliced red onion

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

1 jalapeño pepper, seeded and finely chopped

2 Tbsp fresh lime juice

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp honey

1/2 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp salt

Directions

Cut corn kernels off the cob and sauté in a dry skillet over medium-high heat until soft and slighted roasted. The fresher the corn the less cooking needed. In a serving bowl, combine corn, blueberries, cucumber, red onion, cilantro, and jalapeño. For dressing, in screw-top jar, combine lime juice, oil, honey, cumin and 1/2 tsp salt. Cover, shake well to combine. Add to salad; toss. Cover and refrigerate overnight (up to 24 hours). Yield: 6-8 servings.

In Receipt of Lemons

You've heard the old phrase, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." But what happens when your friend gives you two big ol' grocery sacks full of lemons? While my first instinct was to make an enormous batch of lemon drop martinis, I figured it was better for my liver to find a Plan B. My second thought was to make a lemon meringue pie, but then discovered I only needed about 1/2 cup of lemon juice per pie so that would be a whole lotta pie . . . . So that's how I decided to makes preserved lemons. I know, it's so Martha Stewart of me!

I'd come across a few recipes calling for preserved lemons of late but kept forgetting to look for them at the grocery store. I did a little online research and apparently the learning curve for making preserved lemons is pretty non-existent. While "putting up" vegetables or making jelly is a terrifying prospect to me, this seemed quite manageable.

You basically just jam a ton of salt in between slits in the lemons, pack 'em in a quart jar, pour some fresh lemon juice on top, and then set them in a corner for 6 - 8 weeks. I don't have much of a green thumb when it comes to plants, so it's not unusual to find dead plants around my house. Even cacti don't last long under my watch. Watering them each week just seems like too much effort. I consider myself a very nurturing person but I guess I'm just not the cultivating type. But making preserved lemons is great because you basically have to do nothing to them once they're in the jar, and then *Shazam* two months later you've got these lovely golden gems!

I was all patting myself on the back for all my hard work. Whatever. It was awesome. I highly recommend it the next time someone gives you a bag of lemons.

And make this dish because it's awesome too. It's the moistest, tastiest chicken I've had in a long time.

My friend, Meredith, came over to eat some. I took her cleaned plate as a sign she agreed.

Preserved Lemon Citrus Chicken with Chervil Gremolata

from Serious Eats

Ingredients

1 chicken but into pieces, about 4 - 4 1/2 lbs

3 Tbsp chopped fresh chervil

Salt and pepper

2 Tbsp olive oil

1-2 small preserved lemons, thinly slices, seeded and rinsed (recipe below)

3 cloves garlic, 2 thinly sliced and 1 finely chopped

Zest of 1 orange

Zest of 1 lemon

3/4 dry white wine

1 cup chicken stock

2 Tbsp creme fraiche

2 stems fresh thyme, leaves finely chopped

Directions

When you buy a whole chicken cut into pieces, you should have 2 breasts, 2 thighs, 2 wings and 2 legs. Because the breasts are so much bigger than the other pieces, I cut them each in half, cutting perpendicularly through the bone. Season the chicken pieces liberally with salt and pepper, and sprinkle with 1 Tbsp chopped fresh chervil.

Heat a wide, deep saute pan over medium-high heat and when the pan is hot, add the oil. Place the chicken in the pan and sear until golden brown. Turn over and sear until golden brown on the other side and remove to a plate.

Lower the heat to low and add the preserved lemons, garlic and zest of 1/2 lemon and 1/2 orange. Quickly stir them around and then add the white wine. Raise the heat to high and use a whisk to pick up all the pieces of crisp chicken from the bottom of the pan. Add the stock and season with salt and pepper.

Add the chicken pieces back to the pot and when the liquid comes to a boil reduce the heat to low. Cover the pop and cook for 25 minutes.

Remove the lid and cook uncovered for 5 minutes more. Mix together 1 clove finely chopped garlic, zest of 1/2 orange and 1/2 lemon, thyme, 2 Tbsp chopped fresh chervil and salt and pepper to taste. This is the gremolata. Take the pan off the heat and move the chicken pieces to a serving platter. Whisk 2 Tbsp of creme fraiche into the hot wine and stock. Then pour over chicken and top with gremolata. Serve over couscous or with crusty bread. I actually used Israeli couscous mix from Trader Joes that has lentils and garbanzo beans. It was perfect. Yields: 4 - 6 servings.

Preserved Lemons

Ingredients

10-15 lemons, scrubbed very clean

3/4 cup kosher salt, more if needed

1 Tbsp fennel seeds

1 Tbsp coriander seeds

2 cinnamon sticks

2 bay leaves

Quart jar

Directions

In a bowl mix the spices into the kosher salt. Cover the bottom of an airtight jar with some of the salt mixture. Cut a cross into the lemons — almost to the base, so that the quarters stay together. Push the seasoned salt into the lemon segments and pack the lemons as tightly as possible into the jar. The less space there is between the lemons the better. Squeeze enough fresh lemon juice over the lemons in the jar to fill in any "air holes" and cover the tops. Screw the lid on the jar and put it away for 6 - 8 weeks. To use, remove a lemon from the jar and rinse thoroughly in water to remove salt. Discard seeds before using. Store in the refrigerator. These will last for about 2 years.