Before I get down to business about this truly dreamy fall salad, I just have to ask – what do you think of the new look on the site? Is it not awesome? Major props and heaps of gratitude are in order for Paul, the gifted designer who was able to take the pages of meandering babble I wrote for him about my vision for the East Village Kitchen and translate them into the clean, beautiful design that you see here. I can’t wait to cook a giant thank you meal for he and his wife. Also, while I’m rolling the credits, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Brian spent the better part of a weekend wrangling the HTML to make the design play nice with WordPress, a daunting task that elicited cursing from the computer desk all weekend and proved, as if I didn’t know already, just how much he loves me.

Also, while I’m handing out thank yous, I also owe a big one to the EVK readers who reached out to me, either by commenting on the site or via email, to express disgust about what happened at that interview earlier this week and to offer words of encouragement. I was pretty ashamed, in hind site, that I allowed it to even happen rather than telling him that it was inappropriate and storming out, and I feel better now that I’ve taken action. That’s the last I’ll say on the matter, onward and upward! I’ll be doing a trial run at a wonderful bakery on Monday.

Ok, so, this salad. I’ve got my sweater on and I’m changing culinary gears – it’s time to embrace fall, hateful socks and all. I read an article about how amazing sugar pumpkins are for all kinds of sweet and savory recipes and decided that I wanted to try my hand with them this week. I have to say, I’m in love.

I missed out on the farmers market, so I was really happy to find the perfect NY state sugar pumpkin, just shy of 2 pounds, at Whole Foods. They were not marked with price per-pound, which usually ends with me going into mild shock at the checkout when the price is finally revealed, but not this time. I guess I never noticed before, but it turns out that pumpkin, even local, organic pumpkin, is cheap.

This is happy news for me, because I plan on making this salad at least once a week as long as sugar pumpkins are in season.

This is the kind of recipe that is super easy to pull together, but does require you to wait half an hour for the pumpkin to roast and the lentils to soak and cook. Be sure to get the lentils and the boiling water going while you are prepping the pumpkin, to save time. The biggest pain is cutting up and peeling the pumpkin, but I found that the chore became easier with the help of a sharp Swiss peeler. Also, if you quarter the pumpkin and scoop out all the seeds and pulp before you peel, the job goes much quicker. Be sure to use a sharp knife – raw pumpkin flesh is tough!

Once your pumpkin has cooled a bit (I thought this was stellar when the pumpkin was still warm) the only thing left to do is toss everything together and – voila! You’ve got yourself a bowl of spiced, creamy, crunchy deliciousness. The flavors and textures meld so perfectly; the subtle whiff of cumin and smoky flavor from the paprika, the goat cheese, melting into the pumpkin, making them both creamy and just a bit sweet, the slight bite of the lentil skins and the crunch of the rocket. Sigh. Drool. I’m so happy I have leftovers in the fridge!

Spiced Pumpkin, Lentil, and Goat Cheese Salad
Borrowed from Bon Appetit, November 2009

The subtle spices that are roasted with the pumpkin make a big difference and it is important to used a smoked paprika if at all possible. The website tienda.com is an excellent source for Spanish specialty spices and other traditional Spanish staples – Brian even ordered cheese from it! If you can’t find French lentils, just substitute other ones, just be sure to follow the directions for soaking and cooking that are provided with them, as they may be different.

Serves 4 as a meal, more as a pre-meal salad or side

3/4 cup French green lentils*
6 cups 1-inch pieces peeled seeded sugar pumpkin or butternut squash(from about one 2-pound whole pumpkin)
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon hot smoked Spanish paprika**
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
4 cups baby arugula
1 cup soft goat cheese, crumbled
1/4 cup thinly sliced mint leaves
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

PreparationPlace lentils in small bowl. Cover with cold water and soak 10 minutes; drain.

Cook lentils in boiling salted water until tender but firm, about 30 minutes. Drain lentils. Rinse under cold water, then drain.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Place pumpkin in large bowl; toss with 2 tablespoons oil, cumin, paprika, and sea salt. Arrange pumpkin in single layer on baking sheet; roast 20 minutes. Turn pumpkin over. Roast until tender, 10 to 15 minutes. Cool.

Combine lentils, pumpkin, and oil from baking sheet with arugula, half of goat cheese, mint, vinegar, and 1 tablespoon oil. Season with salt and pepper. Divide among plates; sprinkle remaining goat cheese over.

* Available at some supermarkets and at specialty foods stores.

** Sometimes labeled Pimentón Picante or Pimentó de La Vera Picante;

available at specialty foods stores and from tienda.com.

Tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes. I’m swimming in them. And the most marvelous thing about tomato season is that much of the work has been done for you, by the farmer. In-season tomatoes are the most marvelous thing to happen to cooking, because even kitchen-phobic, “I can’t even boil water, pass the takeout menu!” types can make perfect, delicious, and colorful meals with minimal effort.

This recipe is another simple, delicious way to cook with your tomatoes right now.

You can either serve it hot, as a side dish, or as a cold salad, by allowing the orecchiette to chill before adding the other ingredients.

It’s exactly the kind of food I’ll be enjoying this week on my Sonoma Valley vacation – hence, the short, effortless recipe for the short, effortless post. Brian and I will be cooking some amazing, California cuisine in our rented tree house kitchen between kayaking, hiking, and wine touring, and I promise to share it all with you here.

Orecchiette with Fresh Mozzarella, Grape Tomatoes, and Garlic Chives
Adapted from Bon Appétit, August 2009

10 ounces orecchiette (little ear-shaped pasta; about 3 cups uncooked)

1/2 pound pea-size mozzarella or fresh mozzarella, diced

1 pound grape tomatoes or pear tomatoes in assorted colors, halved

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

3 tablespoons white balsamic vinegar (or more, to taste)

3 tablespoons minced fresh garlic chives or regular chives

2 tablespoons minced fresh basil

salt and ground black pepper to taste

Cook pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain; return pasta to pot. If you are going to make a salad, chill this until it is cold. If you are serving it as a pasta dish, add mozzarella; stir until cheese begins to melt, about 30 seconds. Add tomatoes and all remaining ingredients; toss to blend evenly. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Brian and I had a happy reason for forgoing the yearly trip to Mermaid Inn for my birthday this year, and with the passing of soft shell crab season I thought that I’d missed the window for this salad. Then, leafing through a forgotten cookbook that someone had given me a while back, I found this recipe that replaced the crab with squid and avocado. I made it for my friend Nora when she came to visit, and it was a delicious hit.





There was just one problem when I went to make the dish again – not a ripe avocado was to be found within a 20 block radius of my apartment. Whole Foods, Food Emporium, Trader Joe’s, the Associated, and 5 fruit and veg stands along 14th Street – all had ‘em, but they were all hard as rocks. Totally unusable, and such a shame because the avocado adds a creamy texture and mellow flavor that makes this salad even more irresistible. If you are making this, I strongly encourage you to watch a quick and entertaining demo on how to fry squid by clicking here.

Calamari, Watermelon, (and Avocado) Salad
Adapted from Flavor By Rocco Dispirito

When you use this recipe, be sure to watch Mark Bittman’s video to learn a simple, foolproof technique for frying calamari (click here).

Makes 4 servings

2 teaspoons ground coriander seed

1/4 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

2 cranks on a black peppermill, plus more to taste

1/2 lb. whole squid, cleaned and cut into rings and tentacles

Approximately 1-2 cups grapeseed, corn, or canola oil

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 tablespoon olive oil

zest of 1 lemon

1 shallot, peeled and minced

approximately three cups of watermelon, sliced thin

1 avocado, peeled, pitted, and cut into thin slices

flour for breading the calamari

Watch Mark Bittman’s directions in this video to learn exactly what to do to fry your calamari. Only fry the calamari right before you plan to serve it.

Prepare a plate with the sliced watermelon slices and avocado slices. Drizzle some additional lemon juice over the avocado to prevent it from turning brown.

Whisk together the lemon juice, lemon zest, olive oil, salt and pepper, and shallot in a small bowl.

Follow the calamari instructions that Mark Bittman gives you, with one exception. Instead of breading in plan flour, mix the coriander into the flour before breading.

When the calamari is fried, arrange it on top of the watermelon and avocado. Drizzle with dressing and serve immediately.

Like so many of us, I’m working hard to enjoy these last few weekends of summer. As I struggle to hold onto each minute and savor every precious day, I am also trying to imagine how the Fall is going to feel, knowing that the end of bread class next week will bring an entirely new lifestyle for me, as I plunge into my first job in a bakery and my evening pastry class schedule.

A lot of people may not understand the sacrifices that people who cook for a living make in exchange for the satisfaction of having a job that they love. Cooks, chefs, and bakers are all hard at work during the times that other people reserve for relaxing, eating out, partying, and sleeping. It makes sense – their income relies on having people who are not working there to patronize their establishments and eat their food.

What this means for a career changer like me, is that my cherished weekend routine of sleep-in mornings, leisurely walks with a cup of coffee around the Thompson Square dog run, making the Saturday haul at the farmer’s market, leaving the apartment to spend agenda-free afternoons walking around the city with my beloved… these are all things that I will be giving up to pursue my dream of becoming a baker.

I’m feeling very conflicted about this loss. On the one had, I’ve never been more motivated to work in my entire life. I can’t wait to start working as a baker, which usually means starting work at 4 AM and getting Tuesdays off. On the other hand, I’m having a hard time saying goodbye to only part of my corporate self that I liked – the woman who had her weekends off.

I fear losing my friends, driving a wedge into my relationship, missing out on all the good stuff that goes on. I hope that everyone will understand that I may be disappearing for a few years to accomplish some very big goals, but that doesn’t mean I will be gone forever.

I got a little taste of a baker’s schedule this Saturday, when I went in to school to make up a class in the bread kitchen. It was a bit of a treat because it was the first time I got to work completely on my own, without the aid of teammates. I got to make my own breads, from scaling the ingredients to pulling the bread out of the oven, and how the bread turned out was completely on me.

I also got to experience how it feels to work in a silent kitchen. It was meditative, like baking at home, except I was producing at a much larger volume, so everything was that much more repetitive and intense. I was moving around all day, I can’t remember the physical labor of baking ever being more challenging. I paused for a moment sometime in the early afternoon and thought to myself, “Yes, this is what I love about baking”.

At the end of that very busy Saturday, I returned home to Brian, who had spent the day pulling together a meal from things he’d found on his solo trip to the market. We drank cocktails and I told him about my day, and it was lovely. On Sunday we enjoyed a day of leisure, and not wanting to spend all my time in the kitchen, I pulled this salad together with some local beans and we sat outside and talked about the changes ahead. He tells me to stop warning him that he needs to be prepared for me not being around so much, but I keep saying it anyway. I think I do it to hear myself say it, because I’m feeling a little lost these days.

Green Bean and Hazelnut Salad
Adapted from Gourmet, May 2008

This salad has a few fancy oils as ingredients (hazelnut oil, flaxseed oil) that I did not have. I substituted a little sesame oil along with the olive oil. I think next time I’d like to try it with the hazelnut oil at least, although it was still very good without it. I recommend using a mustard that has whole mustard seeds.

1 ounce hazelnuts (2 tablespoons)
3/4 pound green and or yellow beans, trimmed
2 1/4 teaspoons grainy mustard
1 1/2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
1/8 teaspoon fine sea salt
4 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon sesame oil (the original recipe calls for both hazelnut and flaxseed oils)
1/4 cup finely chopped shallot

Preheat oven to 325°F with rack in middle.

Toast nuts in a small baking pan until centers are golden, 15 to 20 minutes (cut one open to test for doneness). Cool to warm, then rub off any loose skins in a kitchen towel. Coarsely chop nuts.

Cook beans in a 6-quart pot of boiling salted water (1 1/2 tablespoons salt for 4 quarts water) until just tender, 4 to 6 minutes. Transfer to an ice bath to stop cooking. Drain and pat dry.

Whisk together mustard, vinegar, and sea salt in a bowl, then add the oils, whisking. Add beans and nuts and toss well. Season with salt and pepper.

Being married to Brian is one of the most exciting ideas I can think of, but getting married is something that I’ve started to dread. It’s not cold feet, and it’s not even wedding planning itself, since type A personalities like myself tend to get off on organizing those sorts of detailed logistics. It’s the fact that I don’t have a clue where to get started when finding a venue that we can make our own. So far our brainstorming has transported us to a vineyard in California, a villa in Tuscany, a beach in Maine, and a funky art space in New York City. It’s all too surreal for me to commit to a date or calligraphy on an invitation.





This weekend, the search officially begins, with me hitting the pavement and checking out some places around the city. I’m not expecting much, just that rainbows will appear and little bluebirds will flutter around my head, signifying that I’ve stumbled upon the one. More likely, I will be hallucinating as a result of heat stroke.





My other plan for the weekend? Eat as much native corn as possible. The market is overflowing with delicious, plump ears of the stuff, and if there’s been a sweeter corn season in my lifetime, I certainly don’t remember it. With corn stuffed to the gills in my fridge, I’ve been looking for new ways to use it, and I stumbled across this painfully simple recipe which takes all of the work out of gnawing the corn off the cob (a pastime I do enjoy) and really lends a wonderful zesty kick, a perfect contrast to the sweetness of this year’s sweet crop.


Click here to check out my photos of Chef Aarón Sánchez of New York’s Paladar and Centrico restaurants, doing a demo this week at the FCI.  He made an amazing grilled corn salsa with scallops and students at the demo were lucky to score the recipe, which is soon to come at East Village Kitchen!

Lazy Man Corn
Adapted from Epicurious.com


The thing I enjoy most about this recipe is that it’s perfect for parties and barbecues. It allows people to take as much as they want and it can be easily be eaten at a crowded picnic table where elbow room is at a premium. While I enjoy butter running down my chin, sometimes it’s more becoming in social situations to eat corn with a fork.

The original recipe called for half a stick of butter, which I thought was unnecessary. Feel free to add more to suit your own taste.

6 ears fresh corn, shucked
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon cayenne
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Special equipment: a wide 6- to 8-qt heavy pot with a tight-fitting lid
Garnish: fresh cilantro leaves

Bring 1 1/2 inches water (do not salt water) to a boil in pot, then
add corn. Cook corn (water may not cover it), covered with lid,
turning occasionally, until tender, 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer with
tongs to a large platter.

While corn cooks, melt butter in a 1-quart heavy saucepan, then remove
from heat and stir in lemon juice, salt, black pepper, and cayenne.

When corn is just cool enough to handle, cut kernels off cobs in long,
wide strokes with a large heavy knife, leaving kernels in clusters.
Transfer to a serving bowl.

Add butter mixture and cilantro to corn, stirring gently to keep
kernel clusters intact. Serve warm or at room temperature.

I’m disappointed in myself because, despite my convictions to do better, I didn’t cook very much and I only went to the gym three times yeah, OK, fine, twice. It was supposed to be the week that I charged ahead with my new bread-baking self, the woman who manages her life, kicking ass and taking names along the way. It was supposed to be the week that I raised my coffee mug high and laughed in the face of my early morning schedule. But alas, it was all takeout and Hulu and hmmm, what’s that you say about a wedding? You mean, people plan those after they get engaged? Well, I never.





So here we are again, a Monday night, the chance to turn over a new leaf and I’m on board. I’m carpe-ing this diem.





The market is full of delicious things and so is my refrigerator. This salad, which is based on my mother’s cheese tortellini version, is designed to be eaten cold. Just cook the couscous and make the pesto ahead of time, then chill the whole thing down and add the tomato and onion just before you are ready to serve. It’s a flexible recipe, feel free to adjust the olive oil and seasoning to your liking, and you can choose to add parmesan or leave it out all together. This salad keeps for a few days in the fridge and it’s a light crowd-pleaser at picnics.





I promise that this week, there will be recipes and probably some bread to ogle as I pull myself from my slump. In the meantime, thank you ever so much for your continued readership.

Best regards,

Lauren

PS – Check out my pictures from a demo at the French Culinary Institute that I took this week of Alex Stupak, pastry chef at WD-50, showing us desserts that are on the menu now. Click here to jump to my Flickr page.

Israeli Couscous Pesto Salad
Inspired by my mother’s recipe for tortellini salad

serves 8 side portions

2 cups Israeli couscous

3 cups water

1 pint grape tomatoes, halved

1/2 a large red onion, finely diced

1 large bunch of basil (approx. 10 stems)

1/2 cup olive oil

2 fresh lemons, juiced

sea salt

fresh ground black pepper

grated parmesan cheese (optional)

Bring salted water to boil in a medium saucepan with a lid. When water is boiling, stir in couscous, allow it to come back to a rolling boil and cook for two minutes, stirring occasionally, then cover and remove from heat, and allow it to sit covered for 10 minutes. Remove the lid, test for doneness (if it still is too crunchy, replace the lid and wait a few more minutes), and fluff the couscous with a fork. Place in a large bowl, cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

In a food processor or blender, place the basil leaves, lemon juice, and olive oil (feel free to adjust amount to your taste) and pulse for 1-2 minutes. Open up the lid and add salt and pepper to taste. Remove cooled couscous from the fridge and stir in the pesto. Add onions and tomatoes and stir until all of the couscous is coated with pesto and all of the onions and tomatoes are uniformly integrated. Grate parmasean cheese over the top, toss and serve cold. Will keep for 2 days in a covered container in the fridge.

The chefs had told us that we were not allowed to ask them any questions as we moved through our tasks for this spectacularly busy day. Instead of helping us and critiquing as we went, per usual, instead they watched us with intense, piercing eyes, mentally tallying each and every mistake. I’ve often prided myself for being able to perform well under pressure, but once I felt one of the chef’s eyes on me as I was leveling the beam balance scale before measuring flour, and I freaked. This small task that I’ve done a million times without even thinking about it suddenly eluded me completely. I’m sure that chef was blown away by my incompetence as he watched me fumble and fail about ten times.





Somehow our team pulled through the day, and we finished up by examining our handiwork, which was overflowing off of the floor to ceiling cooling racks. When the chefs called our team over to debrief, I expected that I’d be shamed for the countless silly mistakes that they’d been check, check, checking all day long, but instead they made positive remarks about the shape, crumb, and score of our finished products and our ability to work as an efficient team. In cooking school no one ever says “good job”, but this is the closest I’ve come so I’ll take it and continue the futile toil to win the approval of these chefs for whom I have nothing but respect.





With two weeks down, I’m sad to say goodbye to the French unit, although we will still be baking boudelais and baguettes for the restaurant each day. After the test I went home, got off my feet, and took stock of my mental drain, my physical exhaustion, and the rainbow of colorful bruises decorating my forearms. None of these things matter to me in the slightest. I’m having the time of my life at bread school, but with two weeks down, I need to work on the balance of the other parts of my life – the ones where I do part-time marketing work, cook balanced meals, exercise, spend QT with my man, and return phone calls. The bread I am making is ridiculously good, but that is no excuse to eat it for every single meal. It’s the height of the market season, and time for me to assert some balance, or have to buy new pants (and I really don’t want it to come to that).


It’s time to get back into a more healthy meal routine and I’m starting with this delicious, crisp, beautiful, and flavorful slaw. It’s a fun way to use jicama, which I found at Whole Foods (and then later saw at the corner fruit and veg stand for so much less money), and with a nice balance of sweet, savory and crunch, it is a perfect, light and satisfying companion for grilled veggies, fish, or meat. This recipe yields a ton – easily enough to feed 6-8 people as a side, and it kept well for several days in the fridge. Don’t be like me – remember to buy the carrots when you are picking up supplies for the slaw – I suspect they will only improve something that is already very tasty.


Jicama Slaw
Adapted from Epicurious, 2004

For the dressing:

1/2 cup fresh lime juice

2 tablespoons rice vinegar

2 tablespoons ancho chile powder

2 tablespoons honey

1/2 cup mild vegetable oil, such as canola

Salt and freshly ground pepper
For the slaw:

1 (2-pound) jicama, peeled and cut into matchsticks (I used a mandolin)

1/2 head napa cabbage, cored and shredded

2 carrots, coarsely grated (I did not include carrots, simply because I forgot to buy them. I would definitely use them next time)

1/4 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro leaves

I’ve been busy climbing the walls, working through what are hopefully the last days of cubicle occupation for the rest of my life. No matter how much I’ve loved or hated the work I’ve done while parked in my cell in various, non-descript office buildings, The thing I will miss least about corporate life is the constant sitting. 

But the thing I will miss most are the friendships that come when you are lucky enough to work with people with whom you instantly click. And while I do not doubt that I will still make friends while at cooking school and in the places I go beyond, I’m not sure that anything bonds new friends so quickly as sitting two feet away from them for most of your waking hours, each and every week. Their trials become your trials. The stuff going on in their personal lives becomes your daily dialogue, as you travel from desk to conference room to the deli down on the corner, to, thankfully, happy hour.

I consider myself quite lucky that at every job I’ve had, with the exception of one (guess why I didn’t last there for very long?) I’ve made great, dear friends for life.

A few weeks ago, as I mentioned a few posts back, Brian and I were lucky enough to be invited to one such friend’s house upstate for a weekend of precious sun and delicious eating, thanks to the trifecta of amazing chefs in her inner-circle. On our last day there, as we savored every sunbeam that we could before heading back to monsoon city, and her brother prepared a simple, crisp slaw made from fresh snap peas, with a spicy-sweet dressing. I went back for seconds and thirds.

I spent a lot of time that weekend asking , “oh my god, what’s in this?”, to the point that I was annoying everyone, but somehow I never asked for this recipe. Then I started craving it with the appearance of snap peas at the green market, and was left to my own devices to cook it from memory. I know that I’m missing something in the chili department, my impulse was to use the less homogenous, sweet Thai chili sauce, but I was out and compensated with Sriracha instead. The results were delicious, a little sweet, a little acidic, quite spicy, and big on crunch.

Spicy Snap Pea Slaw

1 lb. fresh snap peas, washed, with the stems snapped off

3 green onions

1/4 cup rice vinegar

4 tablespoons grapeseed oil, or another light oil

1 lime, juiced

2 tablespoons light brown sugar

Sriracha, to taste

sea salt, to taste

Chop the snap peas lengthwise into thin strips, at a slight angle. Chop the green onions into thin rounds, and mix with the snap peas in a large bowl. 

In a separate bowl, combine the rice vinegar, oil, lime juice and brown sugar. Whisk with a fork until the sugar is dissolved. Add the sriracha, a little at a time, until you reach desired level of taste and heat (I used three tablespoons and it was quite spicy). Toss the dressing with the veggies. Add salt to taste and serve immediately. Store leftovers in an airtight container in the fridge, they were still tasty the next day.

At first glance, there’s nothing on this plate worthy of getting all emotional about. Indeed, it’s a delicious, satisfying green bean salad, made hearty by smoky, meaty prosciutto di parma and accented by just a tiny bite of mustard and radish. Delicious yes. Tear worthy? With drama and violins? Nope.

And even so, I found myself tearing up as I prepared it tonight – as part of our last ditch supper,  with us begging to stretch out every last second out of what turned out to be a delightful, lazy weekend. There’s nothing here to cry about, nary an onion in sight, and yet, there I was, counterside, snapping beans over the sink, bawling like a baby.

People who know that I love to cook often ask me if I learned how from my mother, which is pretty laughable, because my mother wouldn’t let me near her kitchen for a single second longer than the time it took to pour a bowl of cereal. you see, my sister and I were a walking mess, veritable Tazmanian devils of slovenly behavior, and my mother was fed up with restoring order in our path (our father’s too) as she did her best to minimize the damage we left in our wake.

Growing up on a few healthy acres in Northern New England, I took for granted the tremendous bounty of fresh, seasonal produce we had coming from our very own backyard. Only now, as I join the crowds at my local urban greenmarkets, can I appreciate my mother’s commitment to growing fresh vegetables for our family. She was part of a food movement before that movement even existed. And as I was snapping green beans for the salad this evening, I couldn’t help be be transported back to my childhood, when my mother delegated such menial jobs to my sister and me. They made us part of the cooking, and yet, moved us out of the kitchen, safely onto the back porch, where we were sure to do little damage. I remember resenting tasks like this – snapping beans and peas, shucking corn… but now they make me tear up thinking about how much I miss my mommy.

Yeah, how perfect, on Mother’s Day, of all days. My mother is the type of woman who would be mortified by such a display. She’d be telling me to get a grip, that my life is easy compared to so may others. And this is the affirmation that I rely on during our weekly (or, if it’s a hard week, daily) phone calls, because this city can take you far from Earth, and sometimes all I need to get through is tough love, Mom style.

Green Bean Salad with Radishes and Prosciutto
Adapted from  Bon Appétit, June 2009

1 1/2 pounds green beans, trimmed

8 radishes, sliced paper-thin

1 3-ounce package thinly sliced prosciutto, cut crosswise into thin strips

3 tablespoons aged Sherry

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

1 tablespoon minced fresh chives

1/4 cup olive oil

1 2- to 3-ounce wedge parmagiano reggiano

Cook beans in large pot of boiling salted water until crisp-tender, 4 to 5 minutes. Drain well; cool. Toss beans, radishes, and prosciutto in large bowl. Whisk Sherry, mustard, and chives in small bowl. Gradually whisk in oil. Season dressing to taste with salt and pepper. Toss salad with enough dressing to coat. Using vegetable peeler, shave cheese in thin strips over salad

I’ve been addicted to the grill since the onset of warmer weather, but the hardwood grilling setup can be a bit of a production on work nights, especially with the super-appealing thought of schlepping a bag of all-natural charcoal home on my back in addition to carrying groceries on a sultry, eighty seven degree evening.  

Yesterday I suffered food paralysis in the produce section of Whole Foods. The recipe for this salad, that  I was totally feeling early that morning when I’d emailed it to myself, was all illuminated on the screen of my phone. The game plan was there, and still, I hesitated.

It was partially because I was not feeling up for the challenge of what I was starting to realize was a not-quite-simple recipe. What had once seemed like a pleasant evening of cooking, suddenly felt like a huge, post-work drag.

But I persevered. I dealt with the mob scene in the isles, and was patient with the slightly slow woman at the checkout who couldn’t find the grocery codes for four of my purchases. I sweat all the way home – thank god I had changed into sensible flip flops for my travels. Then, as soon as I had stowed everything in the fridge, I opened a bottle of wine and ordered us some delicious sushi.

Tonight I came at this recipe with renewed vigor, and my what delicious victory. This recipe comes with two warning labels:

1 – It takes awhile, but it might be worth cooking for an audience if you are not into involved cooking projects for your average weeknight meal.

2 – If you use the tiny, green Thai chili peppers, DO NOT TOUCH THEM. I did, and then I touched my face, and both areas are still burning hours later. Be sure to wash with hot water and soap immediately if you do touch them.

I’m really happy with the results of this recipe. I made some tweaks to the original – using a combination of the Thai chilies and Sriracha sauce rather than red chilies, adding lemongrass to the boiling water for the chicken, reducing the fish sauce, and finally, finishing the chicken with a round of roasting, to crisp the skin and evaporate some of the water.

This salad was a delicious flavor bombardment – hot and spicy balanced with sweet, with the fresh flavor of the mint and basil. It was so worth the steps it took to get to the end, and I’ll be enjoying some sweet leftovers at my desk tomorrow.

Vietnamese Chicken Salad
Adapted from Gourmet, August 2008 

For salad:
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic
1 tablespoon finely chopped peeled ginger
2 tablespoons Sriracha hot chili pepper sauce
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh green Thai chiles, or to taste
1 whole chicken (about 3 1/2 pounds)
1 (2-pound) green cabbage
1/2 pound carrots
1 tablespoon sugar
1 stalk of lemongrass, sliced through into quarters 

For dressing and topping:
4 tablespoons Asian fish sauce
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1 finely chopped fresh green thai chili
2 teaspoon finely chopped peeled ginger
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
5 tablespoons fresh lime juice
3 tablespoons sriracha hot chili sauce

1/2 cup packed torn basil leaves
1/2 cup packed torn mint leaves

Equipment:
an adjustable-blade slicer

Accompaniments:
lime wedges; thinly sliced fresh red chiles (optional)

Make chicken and vegetables for salad:
Stir together lime juice, garlic, ginger, chiles, Sriracha, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper, then rub all over chicken, inside and out. Marinate, covered, at room temperature while cooking vegetables.
Thinly slice cabbage with slicer. Cut carrots into thin matchsticks (1/8 inch) with a knife. Cook vegetables in a large pot of salted boiling water (2 tablespoons salt for 6 quarts water) until crisp-tender, 4 to 5 minutes. Transfer to a large sieve or colander with a slotted spoon (return water to a boil) and rinse under cold water to stop cooking. Drain well.

Add sugar to boiling water, then add chicken and lemongrass with marinade and cook, covered, 15 minutes. Remove from heat and let chicken stand in cooking liquid, covered, 30 minutes. Carefully transfer chicken with tongs to a cutting board and let stand until cool enough to handle. Coarsely shred meat (and skin if desired), transferring to a large bowl.

Make dressing while chicken cools:
Bring fish sauce and brown sugar to a simmer in a small saucepan, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Blend mixture in a blender along with chiles, Sriracha, ginger, and garlic (use caution when blending hot liquids). Stir in lime juice.
Assemble salad: 
Transfer to a large sieve or colander with a slotted spoon (return water to a boil) and rinse under cold water to stop cooking. Drain well.

Add sugar to boiling water, then add chicken with marinade and cook, covered, 15 minutes. Remove from heat and let chicken stand in cooking liquid, covered, 30 minutes. (Note: here is the point where I roasted the chicken at 400 degrees for 15 minutes – it did not yield the crispness I was hoping for. You may want to try for longer if you have time, I would not bother again). Carefully transfer chicken with tongs to a cutting board and let stand until cool enough to handle.  Coarsely shred meat (and skin if desired), transferring to a large bowl.

Make dressing while chicken cools: 
Bring fish sauce and brown sugar to a simmer in a small saucepan, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Blend mixture in a blender along with chiles, ginger, and garlic (use caution when blending hot liquids). Stir in lime juice.

Assemble salad: 
Toss vegetables with half of dressing and chicken with remainder. Serve chicken over vegetables and sprinkle with basil and mint. Or mix everything together, as I did. Serve at room temperature or chilled.

Cooks’ note:
• Chicken can be marinated up to 1 hour.
• Chicken and vegetables can be cooked 1 day ahead. Chill separately (covered once cool).
• Dressing can be made 1 day ahead and chilled in an airtight container.