017: Lobster Salad Days
This ain't your garden variety newsletter
(SB) Hi sweet readers, I hope you’re out there hydrated, moisturized, and poised for the changing of seasons (JS: Don’t forget SPF!). That’s right: summer’s over, bitches! Just kidding. Well, I guess technically, it is, but I won’t be policing seasonal boundaries in this newsletter, when it is fully in the 80s outside and a legendary heat-wave washes over California. In a transparent attempt to work with and also simultaneously slip past New York City’s mandatory quarantine ordinances, I touched down in my apartment for just enough time to shell out for a rapid COVID test (make them free!!!), repack my bag, and head up to spend end-sommar with boyfriend-of-the-newsletter Willis’s family in Maine (all in under 24 hours, Andrew Cuomo). Thus commenced a beautiful week, where I attempted to transform myself into a lobster through consumption, dove into frigid Atlantic water for good luck, and generally felt grateful to be alive. On dry land, the air had turned crisp and trees boasted shocks of bright orange foliage, the PSL-girls of Nature. Reaching for a sweater one afternoon, I remembered the feeling of being cold in the sunshine — one I was feeling often in the days before the City shut down.
Garden of eaten
As I’ve often discussed here, Quaran-time passes in fits and starts for me. The days blend together until someone mentions Tiger King and I realize that months have passed. I’m thinking about all this time in an attempt to reflect on what we have learned and how we may have secretly grown. I’m not sure what hopeful signs or lessons are lurking in your life, but I’ll share one of mine with all of you: In June, as protests began in earnest across the United States, I struggled with a mixture of personal-professional conflicts that felt overwhelming. My texts were full of comrade-colleagues offering strategic support and encouragement, and my partner and family quickly, completely, and decisively wrapped me in their unconditional love. Despite these blessings, I felt like I had been run through some kind of emotional meat grinder, raw and weepy. For comfort and distraction, I spent that week wearing the overalls that friend-of-the-newsletter Eva gave me on March 12th while weeding and planting two overgrown raised beds Willis’s mom built a couple of years ago. Well-meaning and more talented farmers warned us that it was already late in the season to be planting, but that seemed besides the point at the time. I left a couple days after they were done, to return to the City and then to see my parents. I was overjoyed at reports that they were doing well from afar, but wasn’t prepared for the full bodied joy I felt when harvesting their (perhaps final?) bounty this morning. Green tomatoes! Little red chilis! Summer squash that annoys everyone but me! It’s a humble harvest, but one that left me more hopeful than I’ve been in a while.
In case you’re rolling your eyes, know that I’ve been stress researching retinol treatments while trying to read Glissant for a few hours already today!
This week I ate:
Some hand pies with this cornmeal crust and a bounty of green tomatoes, cheddar, and a little mustard.
Alison R*man’s olive and vinegar chicken, with some couscous and a squash gratin.
Of course, lobstah! With some butter-milk corn on the side.
(JS) On a scale of 1 to absolutely not, how annoying would it be if I wrote my introduction as a point-by-point response to Salonee? (SB: I honestly thought that Jake was going to offer supportive words about my aforementioned #traumas) I’ll spare you the pettiness, but suffice it to say my summer gardening attempts did not turn out quite as planned. Back in the spring my downstairs neighbors generously offered me use of their yard during quarantine, a most-welcomed gesture and ample source of post-dissertation catharsis via weeding and brush removal. Despite my best efforts (read: at least fifteen full-size garden waste bags), the remaining plants sprang back with a vengeance, and my humble patch of grass was quickly subsumed by creeping vines and thorny bushes. At least some of those suckers bore raspberries. My dad, a more seasoned gardener, likewise had a less than pleasant go with his vegetable garden, first fighting to stave off an especially determined pack of suburban varmints, and then trying to salvage after intense wind and salt spray from tropical storm Isaias effectively wrecked his plants. Normally this time of year he’d gently force a bag of sun-ripened tomatoes on anyone and everyone to grace our home, but unfortunately our strange passive aggressive Tomatina will have to wait until next year. (SB: I knew tales of garden abundance would haunt me sooner rather than later. That’s what you get for trying to find a silver lining in this town!)
Frittering away our lives
The job hunt continues, with rejections ever more frequently hitting my inbox. I can’t decide if this is a good sign (companies are hiring!) or bad (not me!), but it’s probably best not to overthink it. Lacking a proper schedule, I find myself falling back into familiar academic patterns like compiling reading lists, half heartedly looking into how I might maintain these allegedly desirable foreign language skills, and (an old favorite) waiting til the last minute to draft this gd newsletter. I’ve also made sure to make room for new things. I dipped my toe into Codecademy, where a quick personality quiz suggested my gainful employment seeking peabrain might find joy in learning SQL. My sister convinced me and friend-of-the-newsletter April to try 305 Fitness at Home, an experience I can only describe as chaotic. I’m looking forward to wrapping up this ‘graf and cracking open my new Fenty Skin cleanser. Going ✈️ glowing.
Here’s what’s happening on the food front:
Fish-fragrant eggplant, aka yu xiang qie zi, a Sichuan preparation with garlic, ginger, and chile paste frequently applied to seafood
A few different kimchi preparations, including a full onggi of traditional tongbaechu kimchi to last me a couple months at least, and these quick kimchi cucumbers from David Chang, which pair well with grilled meats or this newsletter’s Permanent Rotation™ ginger scallion salmon
Saturday I happened to find myself near Park Slope newcomer Winner (s/o friend of the newsletter Rachel for the tip) just in time for the 3 pm strawberry fritter drop. Guess I now have a standing appointment on Saturdays at 3. Speaking of Park Slope, the coop was inexplicably selling whole Four & Twenty Blackbirds pies for the concerning price of $14.15, so I’m currently about a quarter through what will more than likely end up a personal bittersweet chocolate pecan pie
THE RAW AND THE COOKED
(JS) I’m not sure if you’ve heard but it’s actually peak tomato season here in the northeast. I tend to enjoy my late summer tomatoes, whether heirloom, sungold, or roma, raw, simply sprinkled with sea salt, or perhaps dressed with a bit of olive oil and fresh herbs. Patron saint of the newsletter Gabrielle Hamilton prefers her Jersey beefsteaks sliced thick and drizzled with warm melted butter. Night + Market’s Kris Yenbamroong flavors his tomatoes with fish sauce and tosses them with chopped peanuts for a Thai style salad. This is all to say that I hope you first and foremost find some time to enjoy these seasonal delights raw. When you’ve decided you’re ready to cook with them, read on.
For reasons I can’t entirely explain, cooking fresh tomatoes seems to me like a real ‘90s move. I’m specifically thinking of thin crust pizzas, loaded with diced pink tomatoes and slices of fresh mozz finished with a basil chiffonade. More often than not these pies were lacking in flavor but heavily marketed as fresh, healthy, and in many cases California-inspired. Disappointing as these memories may be, I insist there is a slim window when fresh tomato pizza can be done right. A more thoughtful and flavor forward cousin to the aforementioned pizza can be found from June to September at Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana, but if you’re looking for something to try at home I suggest skipping the cheese altogether and turning to Greece for some summer tomato inspiration.
Golden tomato slumbers
Ladenia (roughly, “olive bread”) is a popular dish in the Cyclades and Aegean Islands sometimes described as a vegan pizza. Other boyfriend of the newsletter David first encountered ladenia on the blue zone island of Ikaria, where an ageless farmer showed him how to make this local Lent-friendly delight. A simple yeasted dough is baked in a heavily oiled pan to form a thick, focaccia-like crust, which is then topped with chopped tomatoes, onions and oregano bathed in even more fragrant olive oil. The dough rises in about an hour, and the pie itself bakes at a modest 325° F, making ladenia an easy introduction to homemade pizza. Briefly cooking peak season tomatoes in oil removes excess water while concentrating their sweet summer flavors. I opted for golden tomatoes, but work with whatever looks best to you. This is excellent straight from the oven, but perhaps even better after it’s rested for a bit, and the dough has absorbed all that golden, tomatoey oil goodness.
TMYK: Summer Squash Bake
(SB) I started reading food blogs sometime in early college, which meant fantasizing about problems like a CSA box simply overflowing with an abundance of some impossible to use up but gorgeous produce while actually spending my summers moving in and out of dorms/frat houses and partying with my friends. Oh, to be young… Well, lucky for my aging ass, this summer is finally a time where I simply have a glut of homegrown summer squash to use up. Mindful of the ways that summer squash is often kind of ho-hum and watery (JS: MARINATE IT, he screams to no one in particular), I’ve been experimenting with the gratin. After consulting recipes for both the late Julia Reed’s decadent casserole recipe (RIP) and a minimalist summer squash bake from the Kitchn, I charted a (decadent, dairy-laden) middle ground.
Here, I’ll offer a stream of consciousness through my squash casserole, with some detours for speculative roads not yet taken. I began by taking a cue from the comments on Julia Reed’s New York Times recipe (I do like to live on the edge) and thinly sliced my summer squash. After sampling a little raw, I decided that these were tender enough to forgo a parboil, and instead liberally salted them and placed them in a colander to sit while I assembled the rest of the dish. Next up were some aliums — I went long and diced three shallots and a white onion, which I browned in a combination of a little butter and some olive oil. When they were three quarters of the way to caramelized, I threw in some green peppers, a sliced jalapeño, several cloves of sliced garlic, and some cumin.
My three adult squash sons
This seems like the place to get a little creative with your seasoning, if you too have a glut of summer squash: I’m never mad about a pinch of garam masala, turmeric, and sliced serrano; my next experiment will feature a little Thai curry paste and half a bird’s eye chili. Squash tends to release a lot of liquid, so I tried to leave the onion mixture over a low flame until it released most of its moisture, and then let it cool slightly. I stirred in a couple of healthy dollops of sour cream. I basically think that any rich and creamy element would serve you well here; some softened cream cheese or thickened coconut milk would be a hit. Once this looked nice and luxurious, I stirred in some panko breadcrumbs (Julia uses homemade breadcrumbs; I didn’t have the patience, but I bet they’d be delicious), creating a kind of ricotta-for-lasagna texture.
I browned about 4 TB of butter, set it aside, and began layering squash, the onion/breadcrumb mixture, and a little grated cheddar in a buttered baking dish. This was less beautiful than I imagined, but was also strangely satisfying. The top layer was naturally heavy on breadcrumbs and cheddar, and I drizzled that browned butter on top of the whole deal. Use your judgement, but I’ll tell you that I wished for more butter in the end. Stick the whole thing in a 425°F oven for about 45-55 minutes (you can cover it briefly in foil, towards the end, if you’re in a rush) and finish with a quick broil.
I TRIED TO DRINK IT AWAY
(JS) Summer 2020 may be coming to a close but Italian Summer Cosplay is forever, so today I want to offer you two negroni-adjacent aperitivi, one traditional and the other less so. The classic negroni is a fairly straightforward affair, mixing gin, campari and sweet vermouth in equal parts, though some prefer a gin heavy approach to cut the syrupy quality of the other components. (SB: I don’t actually remember his formal job title, but Jake was famously the Esquire “drinks intern” in college. He made me a Negroni circa 2011 and I simply could not hang. Oh, how things have changed! The passage of time! The hardening of livers! The refining of palates!) If you find yourself looking for something even lighter, I invite you to consider the Americano, which swaps gin for seltzer. Basically an adult soda, this low ABV aperitivo is lovely for late summer and a welcome way to whet your appetite.
The opposite approach, seeking more gin and less bitter, is the so-called negroni bianco, recipes for which vary. I shared one version from Joe Campanale at L’Apicio back in 2013, but over the years I’ve come to prefer a different combination whose origins I’m less sure of. My negroni bianco combines gin, Cocchi Americano, and Lillet Blanc in roughly equal parts, though I wouldn’t fault you for increasing the gin. Both Cocchi and Lillet are aromatised wines, offering a range of citrus and herbal notes alongside a hint of quinine. I tend toward a more neutral gin like Plymouth or Tanquery (not Hendrick’s), but if you’re craving additional citrus you might pick up a bottle of Malfy con limone. Both drinks are best enjoyed with a little nosh — perhaps a small dish of olives and/or potato chips.
PERMANENT ROTATION: Cumin carrots. This recipe comes from my (SB) uncle Raghu, who happens to live very near Jake’s parents (JS: how did his gardens fare, I wonder?): heat a lot of butter in a large pan until it foams; add a healthy pinch of cumin seeds and ground cumin; add carrots sliced into medallions and stir until they both soften and begin to brown. Salt. Rejoice.
WISH LIST
(JS) Having now cracked my Fenty Skin total cleans’r, I can say with confidence that I’m ready to invest in the full line of three products. Barbados cherry and reusable packaging? We have no choice but to stan!
(SB) In a crushing blow to my self-care arsenal, the Kardashians announced that they will be calling it a wrap on KUWTK after 20 seasons and 14 years of being reality TV’s first family. I am wrestling with my deep desire for one last hurrah in the garden of K by purchasing a new KKW Emerald Diamond fragrance and my trepidation about supporting election spoiler West, even by proxy.
(JS & SB) Fashionably late to our own fall cookbook roundup, we’re shouting out Hawa Hassan’s forthcoming In Bibi’s Kitchen, a collection of recipes from east African grandmothers co-authored with Julia Turshen.