susan's squash

I made good use of the shockingly sunny produce my mom passed along from my second cousin’s summer garden -- a whole mess of crookneck squash! I fixed them my favorite way, and it’s so simple you could go pick some and have them on a plate in 15 minutes flat.

(It’s a short post for a short recipe. Hope you don’t mind.)

Perfect Squash

Several yellow squash, firm and bright
A shallot
Olive oil
S&P

Thinly slice the shallot and squash. Warm olive oil in a pan, add the veggies and S&P, and sauté for a good 10-12 minutes. Wait till that dark brown crust just touches the edges of the squash… you won’t regret it.

in between

The days between Christmas and New Year’s Day are a little odd, I must admit. We typically leave the lights and ornaments up until January 1, but the trees are bare of gifts and the stockings hang dull and empty. Gorging on leftovers is a given, but the guilt is steadily beginning to creep up. And it’s definitely still a few days too early to start the annual diet.

My outrageous love of holiday cooking has also begun to wane, as steadily as the bag of peppermint bark in the fridge depletes. I want simple, warm food, easily whipped up in a matter of minutes but still loaded with enough cheese to keep me in vacation mode. So I’ll share one of my favorite recipes, plus an easy, interesting way to cook pasta that lifts the lowly egg noodle to true gourmet status.

If you don’t have leeks and Swiss on hand, feel free to switch ‘em out for sautéed onions, zucchini or squash and cheddar or gouda.

Absorption Pasta with Leeks and Swiss

1 pound pasta (rotini and farfalle work best)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic
1 leek, thinly sliced
As much chopped-up cheese as you can stand
S&P

Heat the olive oil in a large, shallow saucepan and sauté the garlic for 2 minutes. Add the pasta, stirring to coat the noodles in oil and sautéing for another 2 minutes. Pour enough water in the pan to just cover the noodles and bring to a boil. Boil for 8 minutes or until pasta is tender.

Meanwhile, sauté leeks (or other veggie) in a bit of olive oil until tender. When the pasta is done, strain and toss with sautéed veggies and cheese. Douse with salt and pepper and… you know… gorge!

luscious leeks

If leeks cost a nickel per bunch, I swear I’d add them to every salty dish I make. That subtly piquant taste, the delicate bite of an onion, the rich freshness they retain even when cooked… I just love those dadgum things. And they even look lovely, reclining among the cabbage and radishes at the supermarket in long, lean, lime-green stalks, as if to say, “Yes, we are the supermodels of vegetables.”

And yet, Tom Thumb has squashed my leek-a-day dream by charging three bucks for a pair. So outraged have I been by that price, I have not purchased leeks in months. But when Mom called and said they were coming to our neck of the woods for lunch and a movie, my resolve crumbled.

One of the stalks is waiting patiently in the fridge like the jewel that it is, but the other was chopped into rings, sautéed in butter and generously heaped on chicken-provolone sandwiches. And that is why I am so heartily dedicated to the worldwide spread of this fabulous vegetable! It’s not just for quiche and soup, it’s a sandwich topper. A pasta enhancer. A cheese’s richest dream. Risotto’s most cherished mixer.

I have no distinct recipe for leeks, but here’s the best method I’ve found for coaxing out their fullest flavor.

Sautéed Leeks

One tablespoon butter
Dash of kosher salt
One leek

Melt butter in a sauté pan. Cut off the rooty end of the leek and the rather tough dark-green torso. You should have about 5-6 inches of usable leek. Cut into thin discs, and (this is SO enjoyable), using your thumb, push out the rings into the pan. Toss every 2-3 minutes. They’re done when you see hints of caramel brown on the edges, about 15 minutes.

blender salsa

Any true Texan will tell you that close behind (or sometimes in front of) a love of home cookin’ falls the brilliant, gut-stuffing adoration of Tex-mex. We hold that the best Mexican food is not just found in our state, it’s got a heavy dose of Texan in it, too. Hence the abundance of orange cheese and salty, salty chips.

Like most good Texans, I cherish a good, bracing salsa. My husband is a bit more devoted… he consumes at least one gallon of salsa every two weeks. It’s an addiction which I feed gratefully. (Hey, at least no empty bottles or video games are involved.)

So when Nanny and Daddy Tom loaded me down with a Wal-mart bag full of tomatoes from their garden, my gut reaction was to try something new and something for him — homemade salsa. Typically I don’t use a recipe when I make something simple, and this time was no exception, so forgive me if the measurements are a bit loose. Salsa should cater to your tastebuds anyway. This variety (cleverly fixed in a blender) has a robust tomato taste with a subtle cilantro and onion aftertaste and a final kiss of jalapeño.

Salsa

8-9 ripe, fresh tomatoes
3 jalapeños
2 small Noonday onions
2 cloves garlic
7-8 sprigs of cilantro
Generous amount of salt
Big sprinkle of garlic powder

Cut tomatoes in wedges and pulverize in a blender. Set aside. Trim and halve the peppers, removing the seeds of two of them. Finely dice the onions, garlic and peppers (a food processor works wonders here). Trim and roughly chop the cilantro leaves. Add all ingredients to the tomato mixture, give it a good stir, and season to your liking with salt and garlic.

Eat up!

Sidenote: I apologize in advance if you don’t have Noonday onions, which are the greatest in the world, but market varieties will suffice. I suppose.

cucumber babies

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I was surely an… odd child. I preferred reading to sweating, styled my own hair, wrote plays and forced my brothers into the boring princess roles, and generally attempted to wear as many colors as humanly possible on any given day. And though I had a couple Barbies and stuffed animals, in the summertime, my doll of choice was a cucumber.

My grandparents had a lovely, sprawling vegetable garden that produced an abundance of lovely, sprawling cucumbers. I mean, cucumbers as long as your arm and thick as a saxophone. They weren’t much good for eating or pickling, and somehow my Nanny and I decided they’d be best for playing. Cradled in the crook of my arm and wrapped with a couple of banana leaves for blankets, the cucumber took on the life of a doll after Nanny gave it a cartoonish, Sharpie face.

See? Odd, and yet, so cool.

I still love the sweet, crisp crunch of a cucumber, whether in pickle or fresh form. (I haven’t tried the former yet; that will be a future, autumnal post.) Always best when gleaned by the bag-ful from someone’s garden, these babies are delicious in a million different ways. Here are a few of my favorites:

* Chopped and tossed with fresh tomatoes, olive oil, feta cheese and garlic.
* Sliced up like chips and eaten with a coating of S&P.
* Diced and substituted for relish in tuna salad.
* Julienned and stuffed into falafel.
* Thinly sliced, on any sandwich.
* The French way: chopped and mixed with fresh mint, sea salt and a bit of plain yogurt.

Sidenote: The modern version of my cucumber baby, dubbed “Little Boonie” by my delightful Nanny, currently resides on my windowsill. It’s a comforting piece of décor.

pearls of wisdom

Today I was heartbroken to learn that Mississippi leads the nation in obesity. Closely followed by Tennessee and Alabama. Sigh. Texas, oh Texas, where is your fire? Until now, you always made good on your promise that everything would be bigger (and so much better) within your hallowed borders. I’m disappointed, mother land, truly disappointed.

One food item sure to tip those scales in our favor is the infamous corn-on-the-cob at our state fair. For four dollars, you can pile on all the calories you walked off among the bright lights and whirling machines with a giant ear of corn quite literally dunked in a vat of butter. (Let us all pause in reverence of the very concept: a vat of butter.) I’d imagine that baby has as many calories as five candy bars. But who’s counting?

However, lest our population dwindle because of that ever-pesky heart disease, today I proffer a beautiful, flavorful, simple way to make corn-on-the-cob that will make your mouth water and your waistband gape. I guess health really is more important than winning at everything.

And hey, we were once a full-fledged republic. Try to top that, ol’ Miss!


Perfect Corn-on-the-Cob

A couple ears of corn
Two teaspoons olive oil
S&P

Husk and clean corn. Brush each ear lightly with olive oil, sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper (or other spices - chili powder’s a good one), and wrap each ear loosely in foil, twisting the ends to seal each “packet.” Stick them in a 350-degree oven for 25 minutes, unwrap, inhale that delicious steam and immediately devour.