... a spirited celebration of regional food and culinary craft, season by season, with original recipes by Susan S. Bradley
One of the easiest and most effective ways to elevate a simple dessert to epicurean heights is to add a brightly colored, brightly flavored dessert syrup. You can serve a dessert syrup over ice cream or gelato, alongside panna cotta or baked custard, with tea cakes, or as the key flavoring of an Italian soda, lemonade, or limeade (recipe below).
The Northwest farmers markets are overflowing with field-grown rhubarb. And the bounty will extend well beyond the time the large commercial growers call it quits for the season. This is because small local growers have taken up the cause and have discovered that they can keep rhubarb growing about as long as customers show enthusiasm for buying it. My own enthusiasm never seems to wane. The absence between October and February just makes the heart grow fonder.
On the LunaCafe Facebook page recently, I bemoaned the fact that this is an atypically chilly and dreadfully dreary May in the Northwest. By chilly, I mean most days are in the 50’s, which forces me to put on three layers of everything just to step out the door. This is not the kind of weather that makes me all dreamy-eyed about eating cold, composed salads, no matter how much I will crave them once summer finally kicks in.
Instead, I find myself jotting down ideas for Moroccan tagines. Why? Because they are hot, spicy, succulent, and so damn delicious that not even the weather can bring me down when I’m eating one.
I think of myself as a component kind of cook. Just as I prefer a wardrobe full of separates that I can mix and match as fancy strikes, I also like to mix and match culinary components. What I learn from one dish always has ramifications to another dish later.
Take this new salad for instance. I am in the lingering thrall of the Lemon & Thyme Marinated Artichokes posted last week. They were so good that I can’t get them out of my mind. We had barely finished the first batch of artichokes, and I had another batch marinating in the fig.
Years ago in Sedona, Arizona, a dish titled Fire-Smoked Lemon and Herb Marinated Artichoke caught my attention. I asked the server how it was prepared, and she said the artichokes were marinated for days in a lemon, garlic, olive oil, and fresh herb vinaigrette, then grilled over mesquite. She said they were to die for. They weren’t. In fact, I could barely discern the marinade at all.
Can you say Tzatziki (za-ZEE-kee)? Honestly, it’s more difficult to say it than to make it. Which is a good thing, because it’s the magic potion that sends this Greek-inspired sandwich into the flavor stratosphere. And I promise, after one bite, no one will care if you bungle the pronunciation.
I can still remember my first dreamy mouthful of Spaghetti Carbonara. It was later in life, because my family knew jack squat about pasta. Meat sauce (made with the help of a seasoning packet) heaped over spaghetti was the only pasta dish I ever ate as a kid, and it was a very occasional treat. And later, when I began to cook professionally, I gravitated toward the French country classics. It took me a while to make my way to Cucina Italia.
It’s picnic season once again—hallelujah!–and I’m perusing my culinary files for dishes that lend themselves to packing into a cooler and heading to the beach or mountains. This is one of those dishes.
I also love having it on hand in the frig for everyday snacking. Thinly sliced, it makes a fantastic sandwich. But perhaps its most glamorous role is as the star of a composed luncheon plate or the centerpiece of an appetizer buffet.
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