Summer

Last Summer I spent my birthday up in the Napa valley. I stayed at a spa, went wine tasting and ate out, of course. It was sunny and relaxing and just a little bit indulgent. I had a terrific time and especially terrific meals, the highlight of which was a cool creamy soup at chef Douglas Keane's restaurant Market, in St. Helena.

Frankly the soup ingredients sounded like a spa treatment--yogurt, cucumber, avocado, was it a soup or a facial? Inspired to create my own version I gathered a whole bunch of fresh green ingredients and started experimenting. If your cold soup repertoire consists of gazpacho, try this one on for size. It's a great solution for dinner on a hot night, especially since it can be made in minutes and without heating up the kitchen. 

Three years ago I discovered something at the farmers' market that changed my life: it's called elote (Mexican grilled corn).

Despite the fact that it was only 10:30 in the morning, the aroma of smoky grilled corn lured Jeff and me to a stand where open grills were covered with plump ears of roasting corn. As soon as each ear was cooked it was quickly jammed onto a stick then drowned in a lime-spiked mayonnaise sauce, rolled in crumbly cotija anejo cheese and sprinkled with lime juice and cayenne pepper. Each customer's eyes widened in anticipation when handed this unusual treat.

Since that day, I have learned that the Spanish word "elote" can refer to corn or to grilled corn and that it's a common street food in many parts of Mexico. Like the famed fish taco, grilled corn is classic street food: unpretentious yet remarkable in its unique flavor. It's hot and creamy and salty and spicy, and utterly, wholeheartedly addictive.

Summer is bright red, hot, juicy and sweet. So it's ironic that tomatoes don't really become ripe until the last gasp of Summer and into early Fall. To savor a bit more of the flavor of Summer, I recently made a delicious variation on the Genovese pesto recipe, a Sicilian recipe from Trapani with chunks of ripe tomato.

Trapanese Pesto is a twist on the classic and in addition to tomatoes, it includes some mint, almonds, a dash of chili and pecorino instead of parmesan cheese. While I'm sorry I didn't try get to try this pesto when I was in Trapani, I am very glad I discovered it. Trapenese Pesto is spicier and more full-bodied than the Genoa version with cool and hot tones all at once. The almonds give it a distinctive creaminess.

I reviewed quite a few recipes before coming up with my own recipe. Like the more famous pesto there is no definitive version so if you feel like adding more oil or a handful of pine nuts, go right ahead. While sundried tomatoes are available all year round and make a lovely pesto, try this version now while fresh tomatoes are still sweet and juicy.

You can’t eat rhubarb without strawberries. Sorry. That’s just the way it is. I don’t make the rules; somebody else does. In fact, June 9th has been designated National Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie Day. Check your office calendar; you might actually have the day off.

Growing up on the East Coast, I remember going over my great aunt Pauline’s, where she grew rhubarb along the side of her house. I also remember eating it raw, and scrunching my face up in satisfaction at its impossibly tart flavor. I loved it as a kid, and I still love it as an adult (but not raw, thanks). Just writing about eating raw rhubarb makes my teeth ache (of course it might just be my new whitening toothpaste).

I also remember carrying home bundles of rhubarb that my mom would transform into mouth-watering desserts, of which my family’s favorite was strawberry-rhubarb pie. There was always an exciting anticipation watching my mom roll out the dough, stew the fruit, and make the perfect lattice topping with sparkly sugar crystals on top. Although I would haved treasured a piece, I knew that I didn't have the time this weekend to make one. So, I settled on this easy-to-make, delicious-to-eat strawberry rhubarb sponge pudding.