shaved zucchini salad with parmesan and pine nuts

We all know the kind. Those songs you stumble upon that you’re totally in love with, and you spend the majority of your time trying to catch it on the radio, waiting around for luck to bring it on so you can crank it up, hoping that it will end up where you are?

It never does, of course. Just like the stranger boy you have a crush on. Not like you spend the majority of your time trying to run into him. But why doesn’t he work a consistent schedule at your favorite coffee shop?

Oh no, no…this isn’t from experience.
Okay, you caught me. But I get coffee at the same time on the same days, so one of us is dropping the ball and it’s not this someone.

Anyway. When I’m listening to the radio, I can’t just catch a radio wave and ride it. I always have this real anxiety that I’m missing an even better song on another channel. Maybe it’s because my mom always taught me never to settle. Or maybe it’s because I’m too worried that I’m missing something. Or maybe it’s some sort of disorder. I am a self-diagnosed hypochondriac, after all.

I am, also, a zucchini-lover. The kind that can devour an entire bowl of roasted zucchini like it’s ice cream, convincing myself that an entire bowl is completely excusable since it’s a vegetable. Just like with ice-cream, you know, since it’s made with milk.

I also like to convince myself that I enjoy eating multiple course meals because I am such an adventurous, wild and crazy kid, even though the last crazy thing I did was try fresh zucchini vs. roasted. And while I was making this Shaved Zucchini Salad with Parmesan and Pine Nuts, I was constantly tempted to turn up the temp. on the oven just as easy as I tap the seek button on the stereo. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was really missing something without the caramelizing goodness that roasting vegetables entails.

Turns out, no. The salad is beyond simple, but just so darn good. It is incredibly refreshing really, and another way to use up that surplus of zucchini at your home garden or local farmers’ markets without cranking up the heat of the oven for the end-of-summer-staple zucchini bread.

I’ve adapted the recipe a bit from the August 2010 issue of Bon Appétit Magazine, opting to add a bit of garlic to the dressing for a little extra kick alongside the crushed red pepper.

This lemon and olive oil dressing is like the Little Black Dress of the food world. It’s simple, elegant, always there when you need it, and makes you feel like a million bucks. This is also a great dressing for more traditional, leafy salads. I especially love the way it hugs the lemon-peppery taste of arugula.

Start by peeling the zucchini with a vegetable peeler. I’m sure you could leave the peeling in for some texture, but I just wasn’t feeling it.

Then you continue shaving the rest of the zucchini into a large bowl. Besides the fact that teeny tiny slices of zucchini are delicious and refreshing, the process is just gorgeous.

Toss the shaved zucchini together with the dressing, move to plates, and top with your toasted pine nuts and shaved Parmigiano Reggiano.

This is a great, healthy side for a summer meal. And forget about thinking you’re missing something by not roasting these zucchini. (Although I’m sure that would be equally delicious). Just settle into this salad and enjoy because I assure you, you won’t be settling for less.

Shaved Zucchini Salad with Parmesan and Pine Nuts
Adapted from Bon Appétit Magazine. Original recipe, here.

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
1 garlic clove, chopped finely
2 pounds medium zucchini, trimmed
1/2 cup coarsely chopped fresh basil
1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted
Small wedge of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese

Whisk lemon juice, salt, black pepper, crushed red pepper, and garlic in shallow bowl to blend. Continue whisking and gradually add the olive oil. Set dressing aside.

Using vegetable peeler and working from top to bottom of each zucchini, slice zucchini into ribbons (about 1/16 inch thick). Place ribbon in large bowl. Add basil and nuts, then dressing; toss to coat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Using vegetable peeler, shave strips from Parmesan wedge over salad.

beef and cheese manicotti, crab and ricotta cannelloni

What does your happy place look like? I think I’d like to escape to a place like Boccaccio’s Berlinzone, a description of which he writes in the pages of the eighth day of The Decameron.

…Berlinzone, the land of the Basques, in a region which is called Bengodi, where they tie up vineyards with sausages and where you can have a goose for a penny and a gosling thrown in for good measure, and that there was a mountain there made entirely of grated Parmesan cheese upon which there lived people who did nothing but make macaroni and ravioli which they cook in capon broth and later toss off the mountain, and whoever picks up more gets the most; and nearby there flowed a stream of dry white wine, the best you ever drank, without a drop of water in it.

I’ve thought before that I could be perfectly happy curling up in a rind of Parmigiano Reggiano, but I think that living on a mountain of Parmesan cheese might be even more perfect with the added value of a room with a view.

But, more importantly, Giovanni Boccaccio’s mention of ravioli (written in the 1300s) strikes me as a clue to our deliciously historical and long-lasting infatuation with stuffed pastas.

I recently made two different stuffed pastas for an simple but fancy lunch. Beef and Cheese Manicotti is the kind of red meat and red sauce dish that bakes so perfectly (with just enough golden brown parmesan cheese on top) that it feels and looks and tastes like home. Or at least somewhere you dream of calling home – maybe Berlinzone – and hopefully nearby that stream of white wine.

The second, Crab and Ricotta Cannelloni, is so supremely elegant and rich that you start to question how the fact that a béchamel sauce isn’t atop everything you eat doesn’t constitute a serious and severely punishable crime. One of each of these pastas seemed to satisfy even the heartiest of appetites, and the vastness of variety on a single plate was appreciated and delicious.

The good thing about both of these dishes was that I was able to prepare them in advance, a day ahead in fact, so that 35 minutes in the oven was all I needed to prepare lunch. If I hadn’t been able to do this, our lunch most certainly would have turned into a dinner. And though appetizers of wine and cheese can satisfy for a time, you almost can’t stand to wait for these dishes to make their grand entrance. The preparation, honestly, takes a bit of time. It’s nowhere near the dedication required for making fresh pasta for stuffing, but it is no simple boil and toss either. Boil and stuff pasta is still simple, though a little more tedious, and actually therapeutic (if that’s how you decide to look at cooking). And the results are more than worth the effort, I think.

And if you’re lucky enough to have leftovers, you just might eat this way for lunch the next day.

And then your midday will be your happy place for a while. And a delicious one at that.

You can find the recipe for Beef and Cheese Manicotti online at Food Network. The recipe is also in the pages of Everyday Italian.

You can find the recipe for Crab and Ricotta Cannelloni online at Food Network. The recipe is also in the pages of Everyday Pasta.

foto friday

coffee.break.

tagliatelle with fresh corn pesto

Summer just seems like such an exciting time to eat, don’t you think?

Especially when you’re from the Midwest, like me. There is just something so special about those few short summertime months when farmers’ markets seem to explode on every corner and you finally get a chance to see what’s been hibernating under those inches of snow all winter (or sometimes the fickle fall and spring). I imagine it’s quite different in places like California and even Vancouver (who has this awesome year-round market), where local ingredients are a prominent staple all year round.

And to have these slight changes in your eating habits is an incredible jumpstart for your now dormant reserved-for-fresh-and-local-foods taste buds. I nudged them awake while shucking sweet corn in preparation for the Tagliatelle with Fresh Corn Pesto I made to top my first attempt at homemade pasta (!). And the dish was certainly a pleasant surprise as well.

My family is one accustomed to habit. And not only that, but one habitually aware of the fact that we are, in fact, accustomed so. Every summer – around this time in July actually – we would make our way west across our Midwestern state to the same state park, where we would pitch our same camper and same tents, eat our same on-the-road lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and red grapes, make the same jokes about all things from cows to towns with whopping populations of 8 along the way, and then head to the same restaurant for the same larger-than-your-head pancakes of which we would without fail sarcastically remark at the incredible size.

But one summer I remember in particular, mainly because I tore out of the car where I had been smooshed into the backseat between my brother and sister when we made a very exciting and very non-habitual stop at my great uncle and aunt’s house. They live in a small town nearby the area my grandma was born, which is also conveniently on the way to our final destination. I was very young at the time, so I really only remember three things about the unconventional stop that day: my aunt and uncle’s adorable little schnauzer, light-hearted musings about Long Island Iced-Tea, and the sweet corn we ate.

Now, I thought for sure that I could easily sneak that little schnauzer puppy into my Mickey Mouse backpack as an early Christmas present to myself from my parents (of which they were unaware, of course). I wasn’t sure what Long Island Iced-Tea was, but they certainly made it sound like a really wonderful thing. And what I certainly didn’t know was how ahead of our time we were by eating sweet corn that had been picked just inches from our picnic table. Inches, really. Ok, maybe feet. You get the picture. The point is, this local eating craze that has become en vogue these days, has been going on long before I understood or appreciated it. Thank goodness we learn from those that come before us.

(I should maybe be peppering this post with a lightly-but-seriously-asserted defense against common misconceptions about the Midwest as a drab land of cows, cornfields, and cowboys, but I promise you, it is so much more. But I’m sure that my story of eating inches away from corn would just break those defenses anyway. Just take my word for it.)

This is why I especially appreciate this meal of homemade pasta and fresh corn pesto. The preparation is simple, really. It is a recipe adapted from the one found in this month’s Bon Appétit Magazine.

You begin by cutting the kernels from six large ears of corn. As a disclaimer I’d like to advise you to prepare yourself to find corn kernels strewn throughout your kitchen for days to come, they will go flying.

You then add the corn, garlic, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes to a pan containing the drippings from the four strips of bacon you’ve previously cooked to a delicious, crispy brown. The corn becomes tender and just smells like summer. Makes me crave a Long Island Iced-Tea, actually.

You then combine the corn along with Parmesan cheese and pine nuts (our more classic pesto ingredients) in a food processor until smooth. The key to really making this into a sauce is saving some pasta water, adding as you find necessary to make it really coat the pasta.

You can never go wrong topping things with basil and/or bacon (though I would suggest substituting with pancetta, just to keep this pasta dish uber Italian).

I really enjoyed the creaminess of the pesto with the distinctive texture of the fresh pasta, but any dried fettuccine or tagliatelle would certainly be delicious as well. It was just a little bit nice to know that I was eating inches away from the table where I made the pasta.

Besides being great over the pasta, I think that this corn pesto would serve great as a topper to a crostini. Maybe with a decorative red bell pepper atop for some crunch and depth. It seems really quite versatile. And I’m sure that with all the farmers’ markets stalls, it will be easy to take advantage of the fresh corn while it lasts this summer. And then I can go back to the same fall, winter, and spring with the same snow, that brings the same gorgeous summer that I appreciate so much, because I miss it the same every year.

I guess sometimes things change (like camping trip detours) and sometimes they don’t. And for that I am very grateful.

Tagliatelle with Fresh Corn Pesto
Adapted slightly from Bon Appétit magazine, August 2010. Original recipe, here.

4 bacon slices, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
4 cups fresh corn kernels (from about 6 large ears)
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon. red pepper flakes (or more to your taste)
1 1/4 teaspoons course kosher salt
3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup pine nuts, toasted
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
8 ounces tagliatelle or fettuccine
3/4 cup torn basil leaves

Cook bacon in large nonstick skillet over medium heat until crisp and brown, stirring often. Using slotted spoon, transfer to paper towels to drain. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon drippings from skillet. Add corn, garlic, 1 1/4 teaspoons coarse salt, 3/4 teaspoon pepper, and red pepper flakes to drippings in skillet. Sauté over medium-high heat until corn is just tender but not brown, about 4 minutes. Transfer 1 1/2 cups corn kernels to small bowl and reserve. Scrape remaining corn mixture into processor. Add 1/2 cup Parmesan and pine nuts. With machine running, add olive oil through feed tube and blend until pesto is almost smooth. Set pesto aside.
Cook pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain, reserving 1 1/2 cups pasta cooking liquid. Return pasta to pot. Add corn pesto, reserved corn kernels, and 1/2 cup basil leaves. Toss pasta mixture over medium heat until warmed through, adding reserved pasta cooking liquid by 1/4 cupfuls to thin to desired consistency, 2 to 3 minutes. Season pasta to taste with salt and pepper.
Transfer pasta to large shallow bowl. Sprinkle with remaining 1/4 cup basil leaves and reserved bacon. Serve pasta, passing additional grated Parmesan alongside.

homemade pasta

You know those mornings when you wake up and your ab muscles feel like they’ve gotten just the slightest workout, and you wonder when did I do that? Then you remember that the evening before you spent hours upon hours surrounded not by sit-up machines and ellipticals, but among laughter so hard it hurt and made you cry?

It’s pleasant, really. And luckily, on this Monday-come-too-soon that we all love so much, I have that slight tinge in my stomach drawing me back to last night’s festivities. This time, though, I didn’t laugh so hard it hurt all night long (though there was some of that), instead I made my first attempt at making homemade pasta. And surprisingly, to me, it turned out fantastically.

And I don’t even say that showboatingly or in an attempt to impose my own brand of culinary imperialism, booting Italian grandmothers from their pedestals and reigning supreme in the cucina as a newbie with newfound confidence in the kneading of dough. I am, rather, just absolutely delighted that the whole thing wasn’t a complete disaster. And I think you’ll be absolutely delighted that you can do it too.

I’m feeling the burn today, because I didn’t have the aid of a pasta maker, manual or otherwise. It was just me and the rolling pin, and boy did it feel good to work for the results (and then eat them, of course). I’m not really sure what is so intimidating about kneading dough, but there certainly is something. It often seems to be praised as one of those things you either have a knack for or you don’t. But then I think we tend to pull this ‘knack’ word from our back pockets whenever we don’t feel comfortable doing something or – and maybe this is more likely – when we’d rather just that other people do certain things for us. So we tell them they have such a knack for doing the dishes, or making us hot chocolate when it’s cold outside and we’re feeling lazy, or kneading dough when we’re feeling inadequate.

But I know that my grandma had a real knack for kneading all sorts of dough, and I hoped I wouldn’t erase her legacy by falling flat on this one. Though flat was exactly what I was going for here, and that’s what required the muscle.

In fact, she came to my second grade class and showed us all how to make bread. I remember the way her radiating expertise pulled the corners of my smile up and my shoulders back as I sat up straight and grinningly sent a subtle inquisition of “and what can your grandma do?” to my classmates. And she beamed at the opportunity to share her passion for baking, something she had always done for me in the confines of her small and humble kitchen. But this was big time – the entire second grade – talk about your name in lights.

So I tried to remember what she taught me sixteen years ago. (Oh, second grade, where have you gone?) And the results made me beam just the same as my seven year-old self would have. It is exciting to succeed in the kitchen. Especially when you’re not so confident that you have a knack for this sort of thing.

I borrowed, and adapted just slightly, Saveur magazine’s recipe for homemade tagliatelle. Assembling the ingredients takes 5-10 minutes, tops. Once you’ve formed the dough into its lusciously smooth consistency, let it rest for 30 minutes and then you’re ready to begin rolling it out. Score the dough into four equal pieces, working with each one separately.

I then borrowed a bit of the technique from The Wednesday Chef, who shared the wisdom of rolling the dough into itself and cutting (tagliare, in Italian, and thus follows ‘tagliatelle’) strips of pasta.

A little toss in flour and time to dry, and the pasta is ready for a 2-4 minute dip in the water – nuotare nel mare – to swim in the salty water, just like the sea. Italians are really great at making a meal an adventure, aren’t they?

I absolutely encourage you to embark on this adventure. You don’t need any fancy gadgets, though if you have them already you’ll save yourself the momentary amnesia arising from subtle stomach muscle tightness the next morning. Or maybe you’ll choose not to use your gadgets, just so that your tomorrow can harken back to the success of your yesterday. Or maybe that’s just me. I’ve just discovered that intimidation ends with intimation. So when you find yourself elbow deep in flour and egg and with a grin on your face, your pasta fears will wash away as soon as the salty water transforms the simplest and fewest ingredients into…pasta! Buon appetito!

Homemade Tagliatelle
Adapted slightly from Saveur Magazine

3 cups flour
1 tsp. coarse salt
3 eggs, 1 egg yolk
3-4 tbsp. water
1 tbsp. olive oil

Form the flour into a well and add the final four ingredients in the center. Stir ingredients together with a fork until they are all incorporated together. Knead the dough, adding water as necessary to bind. Add flour as necessary to prevent sticking. Knead dough for 10 minutes until the dough is smooth. Wrap in plastic wrap and let rest for 30 minutes.

Score the dough into four equal parts and roll each thinly with a rolling pin. Once thin, fold dough into a rectangle shape. Roll thinly once more. Fold the dough into thirds and roll thinly a third and final time, into a rectangle. Flour and place aside on a sheet of wax paper. Repeat for the remaining three portions of dough.

Starting at one end, roll the dough lengthwise halfway. From the other end, roll the dough to meet the other side in the middle. Once the two are together, cut strips to desired thickness, unravelling the pasta once it has been cut. Toss with a bit of flour and let dry on the wax paper while you continue with the remaining dough.

Add the completed tagliatelle to a large pot of boiling salted water for 2-4 minutes.

Drain and top with your your favorite choice of sauce.

cherry tomato pizza margherita

I’ve never really considered myself to be a perfectionist, but there are some things that I always appreciate their being in a perfectly particular way. Yes, I think it sounds better that way. But let’s not obsess over the wording.

I admit I am a tiny bit adamant about one thing, though, and that is clean countertops. I think this comes from the fact that I spent much of my childhood watching both my mother and grandmother in the kitchen, and they cleaned the countertops with a towel in such an organized, elegant, and visible-results-yielding way that I’ve inherited the practice from them right along with their penchant for the fresh smell of laundry off the clothesline, senses of humor, and passions for life and family.

In fact, sometimes it’s nice to make a dough – exploding flour and all – just for the immense amount of satisfaction that comes from its clean up. This is a big part of the reason that I am very much okay with making homemade pizza dough. When I worked in a restaurant, I held an unwavering affinity for cleaning the stainless steel in the kitchen. There was just something about this results-driven activity, I loved seeing it shine when I was done with it. Plus, it made me one of the few who un-begrudgingly partook in my end of shift side work.

Hey, we all have our quirks.

When I first made Bon Appétit magazine’s Cherry Tomato Pizza Margherita, I wasn’t surprised at all. Of course it was good. The simplest ingredients, in true Italian fashion, came together to make this light, elegant, gorgeous, and rustic pizza with added pizzazz from crushed fennel seeds.

The recipe calls for a tube of refrigerated pizza dough, and I didn’t think much of it until I read reviews of the recipe at Bon Appétit’s website. A couple of comments vehemently renounced the prospect of the magazine including such a suggestion, and in turn didn’t approve of the entire recipe. Though I myself opted not to use refrigerated dough, I wasn’t offended to find the suggestion in the magazine whose tagline is to “Eat Well. Savor Life.” (a philosophy I ADORE, by the way). The latter of which is often made possible by having more time to eat well, something any worthwhile shortcut is good for. That’s not to say I wouldn’t discourage the use of tubes of refrigerated dough – I do, in fact – but only because other quality, quick and easy alternatives to making your own pizza dough are so readily available. And I’m usually very much opposed to overdoing shortcuts in the kitchen (things such as garlic presses have hit pet-peeve status for me), though this is just my personal taste. I guess what I’m getting at is that I hope you won’t write off recipes because of their simplicity, especially this one. I don’t think you will be disappointed, and I have a couple of suggestions to make sure you are not.

First is a secret – or, shall I say, previously secret to me – discovery I made recently at Whole Foods. They sell take-and-bake pizzas, but they also sell fresh balls of their pizza dough. And I’m sure this is the same at several other stores. So when you aren’t in the mood to get out the mixer and wipe the counter free of scattered flour, this is a perfect alternative. It is absolutely delicious. Pick it up the day you plan to make your pizza or a couple of days before and it’s just as good as homemade, in my opinion.

Also, there are many bakeries that sell similar dough. This is a shortcut that I don’t mind, because it is deliciously worthwhile. With the dough taken care of, all that’s left for preparation is charring the tomatoes in a skillet, dicing up the cheese, tearing the basil, and throwing it together.

Besides the variation on the dough, I also opted this time round to grill the pizza. This is especially fantastic in the warmer summer months when you would rather not heat up the house by baking for the recommended 25 to 30 minutes. Also, the cook time is cut in half, at least, when thrown onto a flaming grill.

The dough I used was also not my prized secret shortcut, but another that I found at my local farmer’s market. A local yet expanding bakery, Le Quartier Baking Company, sells whole wheat pizza crust (crust vs. dough; thus not requiring any rolling out or shaping on your part) in addition to their other artisan breads and pastries. The crust is whole wheat, its few ingredients shouting from the label and keeping with the simple fashion of this recipe: white unbleached flour, stone-ground whole wheat flour, water, olive oil, sea salt, and yeast. It held up especially well on the grill.

I started off by toasting the crust a bit first, just a minute or so on each side.

For the top ingredients, charring the tomatoes is a surprisingly simple way to add a burst of flavor to these already delectable little reds.

Whole milk mozzarella and fresh mozzarella seem like they ought to have been one of those perfect pairs allowed onto Noah’s ark, and something tells me they might have been. Add a little basil and I doubt even the heartiest appetites will miss the meat from this pizza.

And I think that the crushed fennel seeds add the perfect amount of what-is-that?-flavor, and is a step that should not be skipped.

Since the ingredients are so simple, it is important to season every layer – adding salt and pepper to the tomatoes as they char in the pan, and then to the tomatoes again when you add the crushed fennel seeds and garlic to the bowl. The flavors are subtle, and boy do they fit perfectly with summertime. But maybe I’m being too particular. Heck, this pizza has to be perfect in any season. I say, take the reigns of the seasoning on this one. Be wild and add a little more garlic, if you’d like, and make a mess. I’ll be right behind you cleaning up the countertops.

You can find the recipe online, here.

turkey and arugula pita pockets, penne with radicchio and goat cheese

I don’t know what it is about fireworks, but they always make me cry.

These are never tears of sadness; let me be clear about that. There’s just something so beautiful, and American, and generally fantastic about them that just gets me every time. They rank right up there with fighter-jet flyovers at the beginning of sporting events. Ah.
Every year my city hosts a free outdoor concert sometime around the 4th of July at our largest public park. This year was an especially packed year, with over 80,000 people planting their picnic blanket and lawn chair islands on the green sea of grass. Most everyone brings a picnic dinner and this year was particularly delicious over at our camp.

I made two parts of the communal meal: Turkey and Arugula Pita Pockets and Penne with Radicchio and Goat Cheese. I can’t go on without admitting that this wasn’t entirely my brilliant idea. The Food Network actually organized these two together in a show, presenting them as a great combination for a picnic. So I took their advice.

I adapted the pita pockets a bit from the original recipe, opting to use turkey instead of chicken. I didn’t alter anything else and the flavor was fantastic. Toasting the pitas just slightly adds a nice dimension, complimenting the peppery arugula and serving as a great canvas for the gorgeously creamy arugula pesto. I’ve been disappointed before when I’ve substituted a green other than basil in a pesto, but arugula is not a disappointment. When I’ve made spinach pesto before, I was left feeling lonesome without much of the customary herbal kick I love so much about pesto. But arugula has enough lemon peppery taste on its own, that no extra garlic is needed. And when you’re crammed into a park with thousands of others nearby, extra garlic probably won’t further advance the bonding with your blanket neighbors as seems so popularly patriotic surrounding holidays that celebrate America.

The first few whirls of the food processor stirred up such an amazing aroma from the arugula pesto that I nearly boiled a pot of pasta and kept it all for myself. But I resisted, settling to make this quick pasta dish some other time very soon. Preferably at a time when I don’t have to share.

Once you’ve finished the arugula pesto, add a little mayonnaise and chopped turkey and you are ready to fill your pita pockets. So simple. The green of the pesto is particularly vibrant, and looks fantastic against the toasted tan of the pitas. Add a little cherry tomato and leftover arugula leaves and you start working the tricolore, a wonderful combination of colors. The best thing about these, besides how wonderful they taste and how healthy they make you feel, is that they just travel so darn well. I wrapped them in foil and used my insulated Whole Foods bag to keep them nice and cool.

Preparing the penne dish takes just about as long as the water needs time to boil. Begin to sauté the radicchio along with some spinach and red pepper flakes in some fruity olive oil, allow the leaves to wilt as long as the penne takes to reach glorious al dente status, add the pasta to the radicchio and spinach, transfer to a bowl and add the goat cheese and you’re set to go.

Goat cheese, like most cheeses, constantly competes for the top of my favorite things list. There is no dish that has not become a better one after having met goat cheese. It’s sort of the undercover Gandhi of dairy products, inspiring greatness with a single churn of the soul. Also like most cheeses, goat cheese skyrockets in appeal when it melts. You add the goat cheese right at the end to the hot pasta and sautéed radicchio and it becomes your sauce. No need for anything more.

The only thing I would change about my preparation would be using the originally-called-for treviso instead of radicchio. Treviso, radicchio’s milder cousin, would have given the dish the more subdued tang I was looking for, I think. Since I was unable to track any treviso down, the radicchio filled in quite well. So don’t be afraid to make the same substitution. And lucky for you picnic-packers out there, this pasta dish is perfect at room temperature.

The herbal and creamy notes of these two dishes combined served as the perfect soundtrack to the concert in the park. And there’s something so wonderful about seeing people reliving their youth by tapping their feet to the music of their glory days; this time around it was Styx, Kansas, and Foreigner. Topping the night off with fireworks set to a blaring stereo of songs about America reminded me of why I love summer so much: it’s a season full of excuses to let loose into happiness and celebrate that joy with toe-tapping music, fireworks resounding in your chest, and picnics worth the tears. Just be careful, no one likes soggy pita pockets.

You can find the recipes online at the Food Network, both courtesy of Giada de Laurentiis.

Chicken and Arugula Pita Pockets, here.

Penne with Treviso and Goat Cheese, here.

almond blueberry cookies

Most of the time I forget how old I am.

I am the youngest in my family by a long shot. My sister is six years older than I, and my brother is three years older than she. Part of me has always tried to be older than I actually am at the time. One thing I cherish the most about my childhood is that we would always sit down together as a family for dinner. My mom was the queen of the making things in the crock-pot. She would always find new recipes to try. They were usually those that she could start in the morning, the crock-pot taking care of the rest during the day when she was at work.

One thing about the dinner table, though, was that I always tried so unbelievably hard to keep up with the conversation. My parents would talk about things they had read in the newspaper and my brother and sister would relate that to their classes at school or their oh-so-grown-up junior high lives. All I would be thinking about was how I hit max speed on my pink bicycle while the white wicker basket on front held on for dear life. But no one really wanted to discuss that for too long. And I would sink into my plate, mumbling under my breath that this had been without training wheels, people(!).

Anyway, I did make a valiant effort if I do say so myself. Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt this need to act so much more sophisticated and like an adult than I might otherwise be expected to. Not that it is necessarily a bad thing, trying to act mature can be a positive thing. There are some times though, when a person like me completely relishes in letting loose and breaking some conventions. Take my aversion to crock-pots – see, I can be wild – oh and mom, I don’t mean to say that I didn’t enjoy all those meals.

I have several times now made these amazingly delicious cookies. Almond Blueberry Cookies are perfect for any time, but especially as an afternoon snack or even breakfast with a cup of coffee – hey, it’s fruit, come on.

The cookies are relatively easy to make and they are beautiful both during the process and when they come out of the oven. Once you add the blueberries, your bowl turns into something like one of those tie-dye projects you made at summer camp with your oldest white t-shirt. It’s gorgeous.

The blueberries come together with flavors of almond and lemon. You can almost see their intentions in their eyes. Draping themselves in sophistication, almost an attempt to hide the stick of butter sneaking in behind the flour and sugar. It’s as if they are trying their darndest to be more mature than they are, and maybe that’s why I like them so much. But I think they would do a pretty good job at fooling anyone.

Making these doesn’t take a lot of time. And that’s a good thing, because you’ll want to take all the time you can find to sit down and enjoy them for what they are – just little cookies trying to find their way in this world – disguised in sophisticated taste but forever staying true to what makes a cookie, a cookie – and we might just be able to take a lesson from them.

Another plus, since the recipe isn’t overly complex, cleaning up is a cinch. Enjoy.

You can find the recipe for these Almond Blueberry cookies online at Food Network, here.