Shots of Summer

Just a few quick shots to remind us that summer has finally arrived.  I’m proud to say that some of this produce is from my own tiny backyard garden plot!

Soft, sweet, whole bulbs of roasted garlic:IMG_0768

Cherries from the Saturday Market, tart and taut:

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Lunch one weekday – spicy stir-friend rainbow chard with half a wheat bagel:IMG_0939

Snap pea, squash blossom, and nasturtium risotto:IMG_1063

Goodies from Sweet Life Patisserie – I love the hand-painted look of the tiny flowers on the square of chocolate:

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Ravioli

What does one make with half a package of wonton wrappers slowly succumbing to freezer-burn, a yard full of fragrant spearmint, and a package of cherry tomatoes?

Homemade ravioli.

A few months ago, during that first spell of beautiful heat, N. and our friend S. and I went to the annual Friends of the Eugene Library booksale.  Amidst nerdy volumes, I found two glorious, inexpensive cookbooks, and it was from a volume called “Everyday Epicurean” that I found the recipe for this simple and really quite delish ravioli concoction.
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The filling combines crumbled feta cheese, cream cheese, herbs, and the magic ingredient: a small pickled jalapeño pepper.  After a whirl in the food processor, half a tablespoon of filling gets mounded in the center of a square wonton wrapper, which you fold into a triangle after moistening the edges with water.  Stow your raviolis safely on a WELL-FLOURED cookie sheet while you finish producing the batch.

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I stuck mine in the refrigerator for a few hours before dropping the delicate little stuffed triangles into a boiling pot, though the recipe didn’t call for this.  While the little darlings boiled, I mixed up the sauce, which consisted mainly of cherry tomatoes and mint, just barely heated up in a sauté pan with some hot olive oil.  Since my tummy doesn’t do well with heavy processed tomato sauces, this was near perfect for me.

The result was heavenly.  The raviolis stuck together a little bit while I was pulling them out of the pot, and one or two of them may have leaked a little bit (the water was pretty cloudy by the time they were done), but it didn’t seem to matter.  Unlike the usual frozen variety we depend on in a pinch, the wonton skins were ultra-thin and delicate, and tasted more like restaurant fare than the quick fix from the freezer section.  The filling was creamy and rich, but not overpoweringly so, as the sharp bite from the pickled jalapeño inside and the sweet acidic tang from the tomatoes outside cut through the potentially cloying velvet of the cheese.  Served up with a toaster-oven broiled slice of romano-garlic toast, this was completely worth the effort of creating all those little packages.  Maybe the cliché about good things is true after all.

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Cheese, please!

Once upon a time ago, N.’s parents bought him a quesadilla maker.  I’m not sure what this was in response to, but my first reaction might have been a giggle.  I can make a quesadilla, you just fold a tortilla in a frying pan!  I resisted the quesadilla maker.  I begrudged it the space it took up in our moving boxes when we moved in together.  I glowered at its awkward shape in our cabinets.

Since those early days, the quesadilla maker and I have become good friends.  I still use a skillet for plain cheese quesadillas, but when I want to go all out and add other vegetables, the dual surface cooking mechanism is helpful in preventing flip-related spills and leaks.  In fact, we’re down to a fairly standard recipe that one of us employs once every month or two.

Tonight, inspired by the need to use up some vegetables, I dug out the trusty quesadilla maker and layered in the standards plus a few additions.  I usually fry some sliced mushrooms and defrosted corn in olive oil until the mushrooms are soft and the corn has just started to caramelize against the bottom of the pan.  Then I layer Monterey jack cheese, baby spinach, the mushroom and corn mixture, and a little bit more cheese onto the bottom tortilla before slapping on the top.  Today, since I’ve been reading everywhere to eat a rainbow of colors in your fruit and veggie diet, I added some chopped radicchio that I had hanging around in my crisper drawer.

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While I was waiting for the mushrooms and corn to do their thing, I addressed several aging avocadoes in our fruit baskets.  I’ve recently made a few alterations to my old standard guacamole thanks to a shortage, and am pleased enough with my new strategy to share it.  I’m not calling this a recipe, because I still adjust things every time I make a batch.  Tonight’s avocado-and-a-half was joined by four or five strips of julienne cut sundried tomatoes, chopped cilantro and garlic scapes from the back garden, lime juice, sea salt, one finely chopped miniature pickled jalapeño, sea salt and black pepper.  Sometimes I use garlic powder and some green onions instead of the garlic shoots, but the key ingredient, the fundamental change, is the move from fresh tomatoes to sundried.  There’s a pleasant textural difference, and I like the intensity of the flavor profile that the dried tomatoes lend.  Tonight’s spice from the pickled jalapeño was a bright change as well, that cut nicely through the thick cheesiness of the quesadilla itself.  I cleansed my cheesy palate with a Hornsby’s hard cider, but I suspect any pilsner or lager would have done the trick just as nicely.  A crisp pinot grigio or some other fruity white wine would have paired well too.

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