Ginger Stone Fruit Crisp

Well, summer officially ends next week. We should be thinking about apples and pears and pomegranates--but before we do, let's say goodbye to stone fruit.

With the prices going down, I stocked up. Then the question was what to do with them. A number of friends suggested canning them. But I just don't see myself craving a white peach in January. My appetites tend to run with the seasons. So, what would it be? A pie? A galette? A buckle or cobbler or ice cream?

Well, my intent was a pie. Actually a pie crust on the bottom with my oatmeal crisp on top. I even had a wonderful pie dough at the ready. But we've had this sticky heat wave and, to be honest, baking was not on my agenda. I didn't tell this to the fruit, however, which were showing signs of age. The day of reckoning came today. One more and into the trash they'd have to go. Fortunately, the temps did lower a bit. But today? Well, it it's Rosh Hashanah. The quintessential apples and honey celebration. Plus, despite my feelings about working on the High Holidays, I had a full plate of projects on my desk. And dinner with my parents.

If I was going to bring dessert to them, it would have be something with stone fruit. And it would have to be something I could pull together quickly because I didn't finish up until about 2 p.m.

The dough went back into the freezer for another day. I quickly made my crisp recipe. Then I started slicing up the fruit. I had been dipping into this wonderful gem of a little cookbook, Rustic Fruit Desserts by Cory Schreiber and Julie Richardson, and picked up a new way to treat fruit in a pie. Instead of just tossing the fruit with sugar and flour, I followed their lead and made a mixture of cornstarch, salt, and sugar that I added to the raw fruit slices. Then I stirred in lemon juice. It had occurred to me yesterday that pairing the fruit with ginger would add a nice jolt of spice to the flavors so I added a tablespoon of ginger--the ginger I had grated and stored in the freezer just a few weeks ago.

Everything was ready quite quickly. The oven was already preheated to 350. I sprayed the pie plate with baking spray, emptied the gingery fruit into the pie plate and covered up the fruit with the crisp. In it went for 40 minutes. Out it came with the fruit juicy and bubbling beneath a crispy crust of oats, walnuts, and butter, scented with cinnamon and my favorite "secret" pie ingredient, fennel pollen. When I served it at dinner tonight, cutting into the crisp revealed the lightest aroma of ginger and the sweet fragrance of peaches and plums, beautifully paired. The flavor was sweet summer, just on its way out to make way for fall.

Okay, I'm finally ready for apples.

Ginger Stone Fruit Crisp
Serves 8 to 10
(printable recipe)

Ingredients

For crisp

2 cups quick cooking oats

1 cup toasted walnuts, chopped

1 ½ cups lightly packed brown sugar

2 cups all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon fennel pollen

1 cup unsalted butter, melted

For filling
3 pounds stone fruit (I used white and yellow peaches along with plums), pitted and sliced
1 tablespoon freshly grated (or grated and frozen/defrosted) ginger
3/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons lemon juice

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

To make the crisp mixture combine all the ingredients, adding the butter last, and mix well. Reserve.

To make the filling, slice the fruit over a bowl to collect the juices. Add the ginger. Combine the sugar, cornstarch and salt, and then stir into the sliced fruit. Add the lemon juice and mix well.

Spray a pie plate with baking spray. Pour the fruit mixture into the pie plate. Top with crisp mixture--about 1 to 1 1/2 cups, depending on how thick you like the crisp layer. You'll have plenty of crisp mixture left over so put it in a freezer bag and store in the freezer to pull out whenever you have a last-minute craving for a fruit crisp.

Bake for about 40 minutes or until the fruit is bubbly and the topping is browned. Perfect served with vanilla bean ice cream.

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Just in Time for Rosh Hashanah: The Seasonal Jewish Kitchen

With the High Holidays beginning Sunday at sundown with Erev Rosh Hashanah, I was delighted to receive a new and unique Jewish cookbook by Amelia Saltsman. Her first cookbook, The Santa Monica Farmers' Market Cookbook, is a classic. So, I rightly anticipated that she would bring literally a fresh approach to The Seasonal Jewish Kitchen ($33.95/Sterling Epicure). Saltsman comes to this subject with an edge up that most Jewish families don't have. She embodies the Jewish diaspora with both an Ashkenazi and Sephardic background, being the daughter of a Romanian mother and Iraqi father and raised in Los Angeles. This gives the book much more range than most traditional Jewish cookbooks. Add to this Saltsman's clear passion for seasonal, ingredient-driven food and you have a wealth of recipes that have the familiarity of tradition but fit in with a modern sensibility about food.

Now some of the recipes can legitimately be questioned as being traditionally Jewish. What is Jewish about an Autumn Slaw with Beets, Carrots, and Kohlrabi? Or Curried Roasted Cauliflower? Or Green Fava Bean and English Pea "Hummus"? Saltsman takes this on in the beginning of the book with a brief chapter, What is Jewish Food? She refuses to be limited to a definition that strictly identifies it as the religious dietary laws of kashrut. You know the old joke about three Jews and five opinions? Well, that's how I--and I assume Saltsman--feels about Jewish food. With so many Jews on the move for so many centuries spanning the world, Jews have adapted their culinary traditions to where they find themselves. Just because I am tied to the traditions of Eastern Europe and feel a connection to foods like gefilte fish, noodle kugel, and brisket doesn't mean that Jews who lived in Spain, Italy, or Iraq have that sentiment. The Seasonal Jewish Kitchen opens up the possibilities of other types of ingredients and their preparation, adding these new concepts to whatever we originally came to the table with. So, that Curried Roasted Cauliflower? Saltzman's headnote explains that cauliflower lends itself to multiple Jewish Diaspora flavor profiles, in this case Indian. And while my touchpoint for Chanukah may be potato latkes, Saltsman's Iraqi family would be delighted with Zengoula with Lemon Syrup: Iraqi Funnel Cakes. Both celebrate the miracle of the oil that is the essence of Chanukah.

Then there's the crucial word "seasonal" in the title. A food writer who is passionate about farmers' markets is going to follow the seasons. And since Jewish holidays are scattered throughout the year, it's easy to divide a book into mini seasons. Saltsman does it with six, two-month chapters that really capture what is growing around the time of each holiday. She starts, of course, with the Jewish New Year--Rosh Hashanah--and recipes for September and October. The very first recipe is a Tunisian Lemon Rind Salad, which I made. As she says, it can be a substitute for traditional preserved lemons. The addition of garlic and spicy harissa paste adds a punch to the salad that pure preserved lemons don't have. You can use this as a condiment with chicken or fish. I will also add it to vegetables to make a sauce for pasta.

While most of these recipes aren't specifically associated with a particular Jewish holiday and can be enjoyed anytime in the season, Saltsman does create holiday menus with the recipes. Yes, there's chicken soup and brisket and a honey cake for Rosh Hashanah. And, of course, tzimmes. Most of these recipes are beautifully illustrated with photography--and wonderful storytelling by Saltsman. You'll turn to this book again and again for inspiration for a weeknight meal or to freshen a traditional holiday table.

Roasted Carrot And Sweet Potato Tzimmes

From The Seasonal Jewish Kitchen by Amelia Saltsman

Makes 8 to 10 servings

Pareve/vegan

Tzimmes is an eastern European stew of carrots and/or sweet potatoes and prunes traditionally cooked with beef flanken, often sweetened with brown or white sugar, and sometimes thickened with flour. In Yiddish, the word tzimmes means “a big fuss,” probably because of all the work required to make the old-style dish. This version couldn’t be easier: Skip the meat, sugar, and flour and instead roast carrots, sweet potatoes, and dried Santa Rosa–type plums (or common dried prunes) in fresh orange juice until they are tender, browned, glazed with citrus, and deliciously infused with orange. Tzimmes is a great companion to brisket or chicken and is also a good accompaniment to farro or quinoa for a pareve/vegan main course. It can easily be made a day ahead and reheated and is often served in the fall for Rosh Hashanah and in the spring for Passover. It is also a lovely addition to any festive meal during these times of the year. Both seasons yield sweet carrots, especially in the spring. In the fall, use new-season white- or orange-fleshed sweet potatoes.

6 to 8 oranges

1 lemon

2 pounds (900 g) carrots

3 pounds (1.4 kg) sweet potatoes

1 pound (450 g) shallots (about 8 large)

½ to ¾ pound (225 to 340 g) dried plums or pitted prunes (vary the amount depending on how sweet and fruity you want the dish)

3 to 4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Kosher or sea salt and freshly ground white or black pepper

Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C). Using a swivel-blade vegetable peeler, remove the zest in large strips from 2 of the oranges and the lemon. Be sure to press down only hard enough to capture the colored part of the skin, not the bitter white pith. Juice enough oranges to yield 2½ cups (600 ml) juice. Reserve the lemon for another use.

Peel the carrots and cut them crosswise into 2-inch (5-cm) chunks or lengthwise into 2-inch (5-cm) chunks (if carrots are very fat, first halve them lengthwise). Peel and cut the sweet potatoes into large bite-size chunks. Peel and quarter the shallots lengthwise. Use kitchen scissors to snip the dried fruits in half.

Use a roasting pan large enough to hold all the vegetables in more or less a single layer. Place carrots, sweet potatoes, shallots, dried fruit, and lemon and orange zests in the pan. Toss with enough olive oil to coat evenly, season with salt and pepper, and pour the juice over all. Roast the vegetables, turning them once or twice during cooking, until they are tender and are browned in places and most of the juice is absorbed, about 1¼ hours. If you want a saucier finished dish, add another ½ to 1 cup (120 to 240 ml) juice during the last 20 minutes of cooking. The juice should thicken slightly. Serve warm or at room temperature.

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Six Great Kitchen Hacks for Busy Home Cooks

One of the projects that falls under my food writing umbrella is writing a blog called à la minute for The American Personal & Private Chef Association. I recently pulled together half a dozen of my favorite kitchen hacks that I've come across and used to share with the chefs--because these are folks who need to work as efficiently as possible and waste as little as they can. 

But I thought these should have a broader audience so I'm sharing them here in this space, too. A few  of these I got from the wonderful website, The Kitchn. Others come from friends. Have great kitchen hacks that work for you? Please share them below!

1. Preserved lemons: This Moroccan staple is brilliant added to pasta, salads, dressings, and proteins like scallops and poultry. And they're ridiculously easy to make. All you need is a large glass jar, about 7 or 8 Meyer lemons and sea salt. Slice the lemons down the long end almost half way, turn it a quarter and do it again. Stuff the inside with salt. Grab that end, turn the lemon upside down and repeat so both ends are stuffed with salt. Place the lemon in the impeccably clean jar and repeat with as many lemons as you can fit into the jar and still screw on the lid. A lot of juice will come out. That's fine. Keep the jar of lemons on the counter for a month, periodically turning it over and back to make sure the juice is covering the top. After a month, you can use the lemons in pasta dishes, in rice, salads, sauces, with fish or with Moroccan-style dishes. Keep the jar in the refrigerator and the lemons will last for months.

2. Freezing ginger: I don't know about you, but fresh ginger root can be frustrating. You buy a knob to use for a dish and then you still have leftover ginger that, despite your best intentions, doesn't get used and eventually shrivels up and gets tossed. Enough of that. The Kitchn has a great approach. I learned I could peel a hand of the root, grate it, measure it off in teaspoons, and freeze it. But I changed it up a bit and made it even easier. I didn't peel the root and instead of grating it, I pulled out my mini food processor, quickly sliced up the large hand, 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 when the pieces were hard, I placed those now-frozen ground ginger rounds in a quart freezer bag so I can have what I need when I need it. And sans waste.

3. Dried dill: My mom has a Persian friend who has taught us all sorts of great recipes--and one fabulous trick. She uses a lot of dill so her way to always have what she needs on hand is to slowly dry bunches in the oven and then package it for storage. Wash and dry dill fronds. Cut off the thick stems and place the smaller fronds in a single layer on a baking sheet. Place the sheet in a 225-degree oven. Periodically move the dill around to make sure the air is circulating around all the pieces. Depending on how much you are drying it can take from half an hour to hour until they're just stiff and crunchy. Remove from the oven and let cool. Then carefully crumble the leaves over a clean sheet of paper so they don't fly all over your counter. Pull the ends of the paper together so the dill settles into the middle and you can easily direct it into a container, where you can store it in the pantry, or into a freezer bag. This also works for other herbs, like mint and parsley.

4. Vacuum sealing with straws: Unless you have plenty of counter space for large vacuum sealers, this little hack will save you space and money. About $1.50 will buy you a package of straws that can serve a multitude of purposes, including vacuum sealing freezer bag contents. Air is the enemy of freezer storage and as talented as you may be in strategically manipulating bags to push the air out of them, using a straw is way simpler and more effective. Simply fill your freezer bag with what you're storing, insert the end of a straw and seal the top around it. Then suck in until the plastic tightly encircles the contents. Quickly pull out the straw and finish sealing. Your frozen product will have a much better chance of lasting longer and without freezer burn.

5. Homemade vanilla extract: For years I've bought large bottles of vanilla whenever I've gone down to Tijuana. It's inexpensive and very good. But recently my friend Robin Ross of Cupcakes Squared gifted me with a beautiful bottle and a long, thick vanilla bean with instructions to fill the bottle--with the bean in it--with vodka, brandy, bourbon, or rum. Vodka, she says, gives the cleanest flavor, and that's what I've used. Then let it sit in a cool dark cabinet or pantry for six weeks. At that point, your extract is ready to use. And you can keep adding more alcohol to top off your bottle as you use it. Robin claims the single bean will give pure vanilla extract for 25 years. Mark your calendar.

6. Bacon by the slice: How often do you need just one or two slices of bacon to add to a dish (or make for yourself)? Here's a great way to access a single slice at a time that I learned from The Kitchn. Buy a package of bacon, separate and roll up each slice individually. Get out a small baking sheet and line it with parchment. Place each little roll on it and put it in the freezer. Once they're hard (I know; this is like the ginger--but, hey, it's a great and versatile  technique), remove and toss into a freezer bag. Grab that straw from hack 4 and vacuum seal the bag. Next time you want to add a little bacon to a vinaigrette, you're all set.

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Vince Schofield's Gooseneck Barnacles

I've eaten and written about all sorts of unusual seafood, from hagfish to sea urchin. So when chef Vince Schofield of the new Whisknladle Hospitality restaurant Catania in La Jolla started telling me about Gooseneck Barnacles I was intrigued. Schofield is a big fan of their briny flavor and clam-like texture. Popular in Spain and Portugal, where as a delicacy they can sell for as much as 60 to 100 euros a kilo, the barnacles can also be found in the waters off Morocco and Canada, and locally around Baja. And that's where Schofield gets his--from a diver in Ensenada and for far less: $16 a pound.

Gooseneck barnacles, also known as percebes, are crustaceans that cling to rocks in heavy surf. They're very peculiar looking creatures. Long--usually two to three inches--and encased in a rough, wrinkled tube with a roundish shell attached to one end, they have a distinctive look. In fact, Schofield joked, the Spanish slang for them is "pitos de mono" or, um, monkey dicks.

In Mexico, the barnacles are served very simply--with lime juice, onion, and serrano chilis. But they can also be added to pizza as a topping after being cooked. They can go into cioppino or seafood soups or a creamy sauce. Add them to a salad or create a barnacle crudo with them.

But before you do any of that, you need to learn how to prepare them--and that's what Schofield brought me into his kitchen to teach me. And he gave me a very basic but oh so delicious recipe to share that can enjoyed as is with a big hunk of toasted or grilled bread or added to pasta.

The first order of business is to blanch them. Yes, you could do this in plain boiling water (no salt needed; they're already infused with salt from being in the ocean), but Schofield makes an ersatz stock. He peels a carrot and tosses the peelings into the water, along with slices of fennel bulb, and herbs. The blanching lasts from 1 to 1 1/2 minutes. It could take a bit longer if you have a lot of barnacles or, as the ones we had were, they're larger than the usual 2 inches. Just don't overcook them or they'll be tough.

From there you shock them in ice water to stop the cooking process. Then, start pulling them out to remove the head-like shell and the gnarly outer skin. What you have is the tender meat, now cooked. Since they may still have some sea grit in them, put them in a bowl of water, which will loosen and remove the grit.

From there you can perform all sorts of culinary magic with them.

Sautéed Gooseneck Barnacles

From Vince Schofield, executive chef of Catania

(printable recipe)

Serves 3-4

Ingredients

1 carrot peeled completely

½ fennel bulb, sliced

Handful each of tarragon sprigs and basil sprigs

1 ½ pounds whole gooseneck barnacles (should yield 10 ounces meat)

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

3 cloves garlic, skin on (use more if you want to enjoy eating the garlic)

Pinch of red pepper flakes

Pinch of fennel seeds

½ tablespoon fresh oregano leaves

Pinch of kosher salt

½ lemon, grilled

Directions

Fill a large bowl with ice and water. Fill another bowl with just water. Fill a large pot with water. Add carrot peelings, fennel bulb slices, tarragon, and basil. Bring to a boil. Add barnacles and blanch for 1 to 1 ½ minutes. Remove the barnacles from the boiling water and shock them in the ice water. While they’re still a little warm, remove the shell and the outer tube. Then drop into the bowl of water to remove any remaining grit.

Add olive oil to a pan. When warm, add the garlic cloves. Tip the pan slightly so that the garlic is covered by the oil. Add the red pepper flakes and fennel seeds and briefly toast as the garlic continues to cook and soften.

Add the barnacles, fresh oregano leaves (save some for garnish), a pinch of salt, and the juice of the half lemon. Stir and cook briefly; you’re really just rewarming the cooked barnacles.

Remove from heat. Spoon all of the mixture into a bowl or cazuela. Garnish with remaining oregano leaves. Serve with toasted bread. Alternately, you can add to pasta.

Catania is located at 7863 Girard Ave. in La Jolla Village.

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Tender Greens' Potato Cinnamon Roll with Bacon

I first met Susanna Brandenburg about seven years ago at a Slow Food Urban San Diego event at the then new Tender Greens in Liberty Station. She was serving the most delightful mini root beer floats and guests were going bananas over them. Brandenburg, whose son Ryan was a chef there at the time, was hired to run the pastry operation and while Ryan has since moved on (and will soon be opening a new restaurant in North Park), Brandenburg has stayed with Tender Greens as it's grown. The desserts she makes and has trained her staff to make are like crack. From the most seemingly mundane chocolate chip cookies to her carrot cake, fig galettes, and lemon curd tarts, Brandenburg is constantly creating and revising recipes that bring customers to their knees in weak desire.

Brandenburg has been cooking, canning, and baking most of her life. Back in the day, she and her husband lived in Oregon. She says it rained so much there that she spent most of her time in the kitchen with her kids. When the family returned to San Diego in 1980, she continued the tradition. She also opened The Soda Jerk in Ocean Beach before launching Creative Dining, a catering company she ran for 15 years. When Ryan and Pete Balistreri asked if she'd like to be the pastry chef at this new restaurant they were opening called Tender Greens she jumped at the chance, saying it was a dream of hers come true. The local, seasonal ethos of Tender Greens is aligned with her own philosophy about food.

"The fun of being here is being able to educate people on the seasons and how that influences what they're eating during the year," she says.

One item that's not limited to the seasons, however, is her classic cinnamon roll. That strolls through the year unhampered by what fruits are available. Brandenburg has amped it up, first with the addition of mashed potatoes to the dough. "I've been making cinnamon rolls forever," she says, "but about a year ago I started adding potatoes to them. I'd been making potato bread and it dawned on me that the potatoes make the bread softer and fluffier, so why not add that to the cinnamon rolls. It doesn't change the flavor but it creates a much fluffier roll."

She also decided to periodically add bacon, which she bakes in brown sugar until it's just cooked. Crispy bacon doesn't work; you want to retain the luscious fat flavor and have the texture meld, not compete with the soft dough.

Last week I went into the downtown branch of Tender Greens and spent time in the kitchen with Brandenburg so she could share the recipe with me. One thing I learned, which is great if you're planning on serving these for a weekend brunch, is that you can make and shape the rolls in advance. Keep the trays of the rolls refrigerated, as well as the cream cheese frosting. Be sure that the frosting comes to room temperature before you use it so that it's spreadable once the rolls come out of the oven.

Potato Cinnamon Rolls with Bacon
from Susanna Brandenburg of Tender Greens
(printable recipe)
Yield: 8-12

For Rolls:
4 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 1/4 teaspoon yeast
1 cup milk
1 cup mashed potato
1/3 cup butter, cut up
1/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
8 slices bacon
1 cup plus 1/3 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons cinnamon
1/2 cup butter, softened

For Cream Cheese Frosting:
1/2 pound (8 ounces) cream cheese
3.2 ounces butter, room temperature
3/4 pound (12 ounces) powdered sugar

Mix cream cheese and butter until very creamy. Slowly add the sugar and beat until smooth. You can add more sugar if the mixture is too thin. Refrigerate, but bring to room temperature before using so it's spreadable.

Directions for Cinnamon Rolls:

1. Preheat oven to 325˚.
2. In a bowl put 1 1/2 cups flour and the yeast. Set aside.

3. In a saucepan, mix together the milk and mashed potato. Heat and stir the mixture with 1/3 cup butter, sugar, and salt just until warm (about 120˚) and the butter almost melts. Add to the flour and yeast mixture, along with the eggs. Beat for 30 seconds, scraping the sides. Beat on high for 3 minutes. Add as much as the remaining flour as you can by hand.

4. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead in any remaining flour. Knead for 3 to 5 minutes until its smooth and elastic.
5. Shape into a ball and put in a lightly oiled bowl. Cover with plastic and let rise until it's doubled in size, about 45 to 60 minutes.

6. While the dough is rising place the bacon slices on a baking sheet lined with silpat or parchment paper. Sprinkle the bacon with 1/3 cup of brown sugar. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes. Don't let it get too crispy or you'll lose the flavor of the fat. Dice the bacon and set aside.
7.  Punch down the dough, turn out onto a lightly floured surface, and let rest for 10 minutes.
8.  Grease a 13-inch-by-9-inch pan.
9.  Make the filling by combining 1 cup of brown sugar and the cinnamon.

10. Roll the dough out to 18-by-12 inches. Spread 1/2 cup of butter onto the dough and then sprinkle the cinnamon mixture over the butter. Sprinkle the bacon pieces of the cinnamon mixture.

11. Roll up the dough and cut into the number of pieces you want. For large rolls, just cut eight pieces. For smaller, 10 or 12. Place them cut side up into the pan, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise 30 minutes or refrigerate overnight.

12. Preheat oven to 350˚ (325˚ if you have a convection oven). Bake for 35 minutes. Cool slightly and frost with cream cheese frosting.

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Meyer Lemon Chicken with Artichoke Hearts

I can't think of the last time I turned on my stove--it's been so hot and sticky recently. But we're enjoying a slight break in the monsoonal system and, knowing I was going to do some cooking for my parents at their house over the weekend I was in the mood for making chicken. It's something my dad always enjoys and something I can make enough of so that they have leftovers.

Recently I've been making them mustard chicken baked with panko. It's easy--just slather the chicken pieces with a great mustard and roll in panko. Drizzle with olive oil and bake at 375˚ for about an hour. My folks both love this dish, as do I. The mustard tenderizes and flavors the meat and the panko and olive oil create a fabulous crust. What's not to love!

But I don't want them to get tired of it, so I was thinking about other options. I love chicken flavored with lemon juice but I had one last ripe Meyer lemon on my tree and thought it might be interesting to chop it up and cook it with the chicken. And add artichokes. I knew I couldn't find baby artichokes right now--this would be great with trimmed fresh baby artichokes--but I could buy frozen artichoke hearts. It all started coming together--add some shallots, fresh herbs, some wine. And that was it.

The result was a marvelous tangy, yet rich dish. The roasted Meyer lemon pieces contributed to the juices but were also wonderful bites, drenched in chicken juices and wine, since they don't have the bitterness of conventional lemons. The chicken practically fell off the bone, yet the skin was crisp. And the mellowness of the artichokes and shallots complemented the bright sweet flavors coming from the lemon and wine.

I made some basmati rice to accompany the dish, which was perfect because this lemon chicken creates some magnificent juices and you want a grain that will sop it all up.  And there are plenty of leftovers for a couple of days. This goes in the rotation, especially so Mom can enjoy it later when she's feeling better.

Lemon Chicken with Artichoke Hearts
(printable recipe)
Serves 5 to 8

5 whole chicken legs, cut into drumstick and thighs (trim excess fat)
1, 12-ounce bag of frozen artichoke hearts, defrosted
2 Meyer lemons, washed, cut into pieces and seeded
3 shallots, peeled and sliced
About 12 sprigs of fresh oregano and thyme
2/3 cup white wine
Salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Preheat oven to 300˚F.

Place chicken pieces skin side down in casserole in a single layer. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Turn over and season the skin side.

In a large bowl, combine the artichoke hearts, lemon pieces, shallots, and herbs. Toss with olive oil and salt and pepper.

Add to the chicken, tucking into the crevices between the pieces. Keep as much of the chicken uncovered as possible. Pour the wine over the chicken mixture.

Cover with foil and bake for two hours. Increase the oven temperature to 425˚F. Remove the foil and roast uncovered for half an hour or until the skin is brown and crispy.

Serve with rice or another grain.

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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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