Chilled Honeydew Coconut Milk Soup

It's hot. And sticky. And apparently, it's going to get even hotter and stickier this week. Usually this is when I make a batch of gazpacho--but I did that a couple of weeks ago during the last heat wave and I'm kind of over it for now. Yeah, I made too much.

Last week I came across a display of orange-flesh honeydew melons and knowing how beautifully sweet they are, I picked one up. And the wheels started turning. Chilled honeydew soup! Oh, how perfect! Yogurt? Check. Mint? Check. I could even add some Persian cucumbers. Or maybe I'd make a smoothie and add some baby kale. And then I thought, oy, melon, mint, and yogurt; that's so obvious. So I scoured my pantry and discovered a can of light coconut milk. Ah, here we go! It sent me off in a totally different Southeast Asian-style direction. I had a little container of kaffir lime leaf powder from Specialty Produce that would work perfectly. All I needed was lime juice and ginger. And maybe some honey.

Ginger. I don't know about you but when I buy ginger, I use a bit of a knob and then store it away for the future in the fridge or just keep it on the counter. Invariably it shrivels into the saddest little root and I end up tossing it. Well, I was done with that. I knew I could freeze it--but I don't like the texture of whole frozen ginger root. So I poked around a little online and, voila, thanks to The Kitchn, realized I could peel a hand of the root, grate it, measure it off in teaspoons, and freeze it. Did you know this? Well, if so, why didn't you tell me?

I actually did it a little differently. I didn't peel the root and instead of grating it, I pulled out my mini food processor, sliced sliced it up, and ground it as fine as I could. Then I used a mini cookie scoop, which measures about a teaspoon, and before I knew it I had more than a dozen scoops of ginger on a parchment-lined pan. I put the pan in the freezer. Two hours or so later, I placed those now-frozen ginger rounds in a little freezer bag so I can have what I need when I need it. And sans waste.

That was over the weekend. When I decided to make my honeydew soup, I pulled out a round of ginger and gathered the rest of the ingredients--all five of them--and puréed them together in my Vitamix. In other words, on a sweltering day when you don't want to be in the kitchen, you'll be in for all of 10 minutes, including clean up.

Now you probably will only need five of the six ingredients. I added a touch of honey, but I don't think it was really necessary since the melon was so sweet. I would add it to a version of this made with cantaloupe, however. Be modest with the kaffir lime leaf powder and the ginger. You don't want to overpower the mild honeydew, just complement it.

The result is a bright, refreshing creamy liquid that sings honeydew but has delightful background notes of acid from the lime juice and bite from the ginger and kaffir lime leaf powder. Enjoy this with a salad for a light meal on a sultry day. Or pour it into a glass with ice for a chilly drink.

Chilled Honeydew Coconut Milk Soup
(printable recipe)
Yield: 2 cups

1/2 honeydew melon (about 2 cups), seeded and cut into chunks
1/2 cup light coconut milk
1 teaspoon ginger, minced or grated
1 pinch kaffir lime leaf powder (available at Specialty Produce or spice shops)
Juice from one lime
Drizzle of honey

Combine all the ingredients. Puree in a blender until smooth. Chill for an hour before serving. Grate a little lime zest over the soup as garnish.

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Roasted Honeyed Loquats with Feta on Toast

Loquats are a now-or-never fruit. Originally from southern China, loquat trees found their way here, and by "here" I mean Southern California from the OC to San Diego, where they fruit in April and May. That's it. They grow in bunches and bear a slight resemblance in color and shape to apricots, but are juicy with a mild sweet flavor more reminiscent of ripe pears. I actually prefer the slight tartness of underripe loquats. I'm also drawn to their beautiful seeds. Some loquats have one, others may have four or five--but all look like lovely polished brown stones.

You probably won't find loquats at the supermarket. They are extremely fragile, with thin skins that easily bruise and the fruit itself turns quickly. Right now you can find them at the farmers markets. Both Terra Bella Ranch and Rancho Mexico Lindo carried them last Saturday at the Little Italy Mercato.

Terra Bella Ranch loquats

I'm very lucky that my little community has a few fruit-bearing trees, so you'll see me walking the dogs in the morning and stopping to pick as many as I can reach and gently carry in the little bag that holds my keys and phone.

Loquats are delicious snacks and make for a great jam, salsa, and sauce. A friend of mine with several trees pits the fruit and cooks it down with honey to an applesauce-like consistency. She can freeze this and enjoy it the rest of the year.

I thought I'd try a little something different with my latest score from the neighborhood tree--roasting them with honey, and pairing them with feta cheese on croutons.

Roasting loquats is easy. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Because you can eat the skin, simply slice the fruit in half lengthwise, remove the pits and place the halves in an oiled casserole dish or on foil.

I made up a mixture that would combine sweet, smokey, and just a little astringent: honey, grated fresh ginger, kaffir lime leaf powder that I got from Specialty Produce, and Aleppo pepper.

I brushed this on the loquat halves and roasted them for 20 minutes until they were soft, but before they collapsed.

While they were cooking, I toasted baguette slices brushed with olive oil and sliced a chunk of French feta. I love its gentle tartness and moist texture. The feta went onto the the warm croutons to melt a little.

Once the loquats were out of the oven, I sliced them into three pieces, and placed them on the cheese. Then I sprinkled the layered toasts with chopped fresh chocolate mint from my garden and drizzled the finished toasts with more honey.

Voila! An easy and unusual appetizer that makes use of a delicious fragile fruit with a short season.

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