Brie, figs and honey

Fig season has officially arrived.

If you know anything about myself or this blog, you know I wait all year for the figs to come around. Sometime around August 20, I'll usually find a half-nibbled fruit on the path––as if some critter took a taste, decided it wasn't yet ripe enough and left it there to let me know, it's almost time!

Figs seem to show up at the store before they ripen on my tree. I become a giddy kid in a candy store when I see them, but I never buy them. It's too soon... And there's really nothing like a fig fresh from the tree. Sweet, succulent, textural. 

A few weeks later, when it's finally time, I go straight to the store for a French baguette, some brie cheese, arugula and raw honey. On the first day of fig season, you know what's for lunch.

With carmelized onions and maybe a drizzle of balsamic reduction, this petite sandwich defines perfection. Feel free to toast it, if you like; I couldn't wait. 

Brie, Fig and Honey Baguette :: Serves 2

• 1 French baguette, halved lenthwise
• 1 cup of sliced figs
• 2 ounces brie cheese, or however much you like
• a drizzle of raw honey
• arugula greens
• carmelized onions 
• balsamic reduction (optional)

Layer ingredients on one side of the baguette. Cover with the other side and slice in half. Press like a panini if you want. Otherwise, enjoy as-is.  

My favorite summer sandwich

If you consider the fact that I had the very same sandwich for lunch three days in a row this week, it might be safe to say I'm in love with it.

I've always had an affinity for the more pungent food flavors. I like espresso in my ice cream, the most bitter dark chocolate I can find, olives, pickled things, cured meats, hard cheese, red wine, balsamic vinegar, and mushrooms... to name a few. I think that's why this sandwich calls to me. It has many of the strong tastes I like, but in perfect balance with one another. 

See, it starts with the smooth, moist, crusty-but-soft ciabatta bread. A drizzle of balsamic vinegarette on the top half makes things interesting. Then, we have layers of delicious salami and provolone cheese – a classic pairing. With a piece of sweet butter lettuce for crunch, the bottom half of the bread is smeared with a succulent olive tapenade – an unexpected but joyful addition. 

That A.G. Ferrari really knows a thing or two about food. If one of these delightful Italian shops resides near you, I highly recommend taking a gander at the sandwich menu sometime.

This is what has satisfied my hunger 'round the one-o-clock hour most days this week. I can't make any promises, but you may just catch me with another one on Monday.

Elliott and I are off to Sonoma County this weekend, where cell phone service is scarce, dirt is in abundance, and good times with friends are plenty. I hope to return, detoxed and tired, with a story or two and a recipe. 

For now, my favorite sandwich of summer.

Quick Ratatouille

The very best thing to do to a summer vegetable is… nothing at all. If you’ve never pulled a carrot straight from the ground, given it a quick rinse with the garden hose, then bit into the crunchy, sweet, orange flesh, my friends… it’s time to plant yourselves some carrots.

My grandmother, Mema, has kept a garden for as long as I’ve been alive. She has a degree in horticulture, for goodness sake. Every morning of every summer since I can remember, she has spent a couple of hours weeding, watering, and planting in her garden. If I happened to get up early one morning when we were visiting, the most amazing treat was to sneak down to the garden with her and have a pre-breakfast snack. 

Perhaps a carrot, still warm from the earth.

For dinner last night, I wanted zucchini – another favorite – minimally prepared. Think olive oil, salt, pepper, and herbs. I wanted to roast it slowly, over low heat, with other in-season vegetables. But for lack of time and patience, 350 degrees in the oven for 35 minutes had to do.

“Quick ratatouille” is an oxymoron, so perhaps this isn’t really ratatouille. However, except for eggplant, it has most of your typical ratatouille staples: zucchini, tomatoes, garlic, onion, herbs. If you have the time, I think you should slow roast the vegetables in a saucepan in their own juices. If not, do as I did; which really isn’t anything at all. 

 

How do you like your summer vegetables? 

Toast for Lunch

Every so often these days, in the midst of some fun outdoor activity, I remember the fact that I won’t be going back to school in August – and I get SO excited. 

I’ve been working this summer, but the nature of the work means all I need to succeed is a wifi connection and my laptop. And despite the fact that I am working, the absence of class and homework makes me feel indefinitely on vacation. In an average week, I gravitate between Peet’s, Philz, Starbucks, and home, never staying in one place for too long, but always well-caffeinated. 

I eat lunch at home, usually. It’s inexpensive and never rushed. A super light and budget-friendly meal I’ve been making is an open-face sandwich… Because it feels more sophisticated than the usual deli fare, and due to the more delicate composition, takes longer to eat. 

This particular version has a schmear of ricotta cheese, a soy sauce + lime + avocado mash from Pinterest, thinly sliced red onion, and black pepper. A balanced and not-too-filling midday bite. 

Do you eat toast for lunch? What are your favorite combinations?

Fresh Summer Pasta

Italians approach food and wine from a perspective of self expression. Food, for example, is simple, elegant, nutritious, and timed – you have your antipasto, followed by pasta, a meat course, salad, and cheese or dessert and espresso. The meal in itself is an expression of the chef, the garden, the soil, the climate, and the season.

Wine is the same. In Tuscany, we took a wine tour with a wonderful woman named Francesca. She was so knowledgeable and passionate about wine, spewing wisdom so fast I couldn't write it all down. One of the first things she told us was, "When you drink Italian wine, you are tasting an expression of the place it came from." The health of the soil, the amount of rain that year, storms, diseases, bugs... It can all be tasted in the quality and flavor of the wine. And for that reason, Italians favor less oak in their wine. To overpower the essence of the fruit with heavy oak would be a shame, we were told. When you hold a sip of wine in your mouth and swish it all around, you taste every single note of fruit, spice, and chocolate. Too much oak would overshadow the delicate flavors.

At the table, we were met with several courses of the most carefully – but simply – prepared food. And never without wine. "In our life," Francesca told us, "food doesn't make sense without wine, and wine doesn't make sense without food."

They each make the other better, and neither can express itself fully without the other. 

One thing that really struck me was the quality of the pasta. In America, we're used to a little bit of pasta with a ton of thick sauce. In Italy, so much care and work goes into making the pasta with the finest ingredients, that it would be a shame to overpower it with bold, heavy sauce. Every dish was mostly pasta with a bit of extra flavor – garlic, fresh vegetables, a light bolognese, perhaps some cheese. 

It reminded me of a dish that, when I was first learning to cook, I would make for myself at least once every week. I would visit the Italian market in town and buy some fresh, unique pasta – whole grain farro was my favorite. Then, I'd search the refrigerator for any spare seasonal vegetables, do a quick chop, add lots of garlic, olives, and spices, toss through the pasta, and (with a garnish of cheese) dinner was served. It was so simple and delicious and easy, I wondered why more people didn't do it. 

We didn't have much in the refrigerator the other night, but we had some pasta, an onion, and a few jars in the pantry. Keeping in mind the culinary traditions I learned in Italy, combined with the flavors I love, I had a meal for three prepared in 10 minutes flat. Tailored to whatever you happen to have on hand, this is one of the best weeknight meals I could possibly imagine.

Fresh Summer Pasta :: Serves 4
1 package spaghetti
sea salt
olive oil
1 large yellow onion, halved and sliced thin
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 cup roasted red peppers, julienned
1/4 cup pitted kalamata olives, halved
1/4 cup marinated artichokes, chopped
1 16-ounce can diced tomatoes, drained
1 Tbsp. dried oregano
a few shakes of red pepper flakes
black pepper
1 cup fresh basil, julienned
handful of fresh parsley, roughly chopped
feta cheese and pine nuts, for garnish

1. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente. Drain in a colander and set aside.
2. Meanwhile, in a large nonstick skillet, warm a few tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, sprinkle with salt, and cook until starting to brown, about 5 minutes. Add peppers, olives, artichokes, tomatoes, oregano, red pepper flakes, and black pepper, and cook until warmed through, about 3 minutes. 
3. Add pasta and fresh herbs to the skillet. Toss through to evenly distribute, warm the pasta, and coat with sauce. Add a bit more olive oil if needed. Divide among plates, garnish with pine nuts and crumbled feta cheese, and serve.