This recipe started with a lot of leftover bread. I didn’t know what to do with it; it was stale, so I ground it into coarse breadcrumbs in the food processor. Okay, so now I have breadcrumbs, I thought. What to do? This was great fodder for, let’s see, meatballs? Frying batter? Savory stuffing? Nothing that sounded too appealing during these hot weeks of July.

You know what did sound appealing, though? Dessert. Any dessert. It didn’t have to be a classifiable dish, just something to get me through the rest of the night. Filling this need, I came up with this crispy, breadcrumb-based crust to bake sweetened ricotta and fresh fruit in.

In step with this free-for-all mood I think almost any fresh fruit, chopped up and juicy, or whole small berries, would serve a suitable filling in this recipe. Stone fruits like apricots, peaches and cherries have been making their appearances at Greenmarkets throughout the city, to widespread cheer, and one of these days, I’ll have to finagle a car and check out some of the nearby farms to pick my own. But for the time being, I’ll just stick with picking through the baskets. Last weekend, I settled for some nectarines. I like these best when they’re still firm and have some crunch to them; they’re a little more tart than peaches and since I thought I’d want to cut them up to toss in something else, I didn’t want to deal with fuzzy skins.

my favorite stone fruit of the moment: nectarines

Most recipes for ricotta-based custards have eggs and cream beaten into them, which is fine. I didn’t use either in this baked dessert, and if you ask me, this is fine, too. After giving the ricotta and some sugar a whirl in the food processor, its texture was so thick and creamy and its flavor so pure and luscious that I thought it could do no harm to leave it alone. After just a tiny drop of almond liqueur (a nice pairing for nectarines, I thought), that slightly sweetened, smooth ricotta was to-die-for, spatula-licking good on its own.

ricotta and sugar are smoothed in a food processor

The slightly savory tart shell was composed of only the breadcrumbs and some butter. The cold butter works the breadcrumbs into a pliable “dough,” easy to smush up against the sides of a ramekin and stick there. The breadcrumbs I used were still slightly moist, since I didn’t leave them out to dry too much. As with a graham cracker crust, the baking gives it a slightly toasted flavor which reminds me, in this case (using stale country white bread), of a crostini with ricotta slathered on it for hors d’oeuvres. Or of buttered toast with jam for breakfast. Or a combination of the two. Whatever the comparison, it’s completely delicious.

butter blends with coarse breadcrumbs

resulting in a quickie pastry crust

Fresh Fruit-filled Ricotta Tarts
(makes 2)

3/4 cup ricotta
about 1/2 cup fresh white breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons white sugar
2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter
about 1/3 cup chopped fresh fruit or whole berries
1/4 teaspoon almond liqueur or extract
sprinkle of cinnamon (optional)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Put ricotta, sugar and almond extract/liqueur in a food processor and pulse until mixture is smooth and creamy.

Using a pastry blender or just your fingers, cut the butter into the breadcrumbs until evenly distributed into a unified, greasy sort of paste. Divide into two halves, and press each down into the bottom and along the sides of two ramekins to form a tart shell. (Use slightly less or slightly more breadcrumbs than indicated, as needed to fill the sides of your ramekins.)

Divide the fruit equally amongst the two ramekins. Top each with the ricotta mixture, gently smoothing out the tops with a spatula. Add optional sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Bake for about 20 minutes, until the sides of the crust are lightly browned. Remove from heat, and let cool at least 10 minutes before serving (or, as a delightfully refreshing alternative, let cool completely, then chill covered for 2 hours and serve cold).

Cost Calculator
(for 2 servings)

3/4 cup part-skim ricotta (at $1.99/pint): $0.75
1/2 cup fresh breadcrumbs (from a leftover homemade loaf): $0.15
1/3 cup chopped nectarines (at $3/lb): $0.70
2 tablespoons butter (at $4/quart): $0.25
2 tablespoons sugar, 1/4 teaspoon almond liqueur, sprinkle of cinnamon: $0.25

Total: $2.10

Health Factor

Six brownie points: The first thing you might notice about this dessert if/when tasting it is that it isn’t very sweet. The ricotta’s been sweetened with just a touch of sugar, and the crust has none at all. That said, each serving has a tablespoon of butter for that crispy, toasty, buttery crust, and the rest of the fat tally depends on the ricotta you chose to use (I opted for part-skim instead of whole). Depending on what fresh fruit you use, this dessert also has vitamins and calcium from the ricotta.

Green Factor

Six maple leaves: I missed a major opportunity here–the ricotta. I didn’t think I needed or wanted ricotta when I passed by Salvatore Brooklyn’s stand at Brooklyn Flea the last time I went, though I’ve sampled their fresh, locally produced ricotta and it is outstanding (not to mention made from pasture-raised cows). So I just got a ho-hum grocery store carton. The rest of the three or four ingredients in this dessert were consciously purchased, or as for the bread, made at home.

Trial: I get on my bike to run some errands, including a grocery store trip to get ingredients for a classic French salade nicoise. I have a craving for slick, smushed beads of brininess otherwise known as olives. It’s almost ninety degrees outside. I get out of the store, unlock my bike, and get on it only to find that the back tire is sagged like an empty sail.

Retribution: The nearest bike shop is uncannily nearby. They fix my back tire in exchange for a sweaty $10 and I get back on and hop home. I take a bunch of food photos in a rush to get to my next destination, a dinner party I was to spend the afternoon helping cook for, and a much-needed shower.

Trial, redux: I have negative-thirty minutes to get to my destination. But I’m least I’m showered, fed and my ride is newly fixed. Once outside my lobby, I seat myself on my bike, only to find that the back tire is sagged like an empty sail. (Strange fact: I’ve never gotten a flat tire before. But the last time I went to the same person’s place for dinner, my chain snapped in the middle of the street.) I don’t know why this is happening to me. I thought mercury retrograde was over?

Retribution: I’m much farther from the same bike shop I went to earlier in the day. It feels like ninety-five degrees now. I wave at vans and SUVs charging down a busy street and finally one pulls over; I ask the guy inside for a lift to the bike shop. He not only gives me a ride but his business card, a wholesome, harmless chat, and the parting words: “I’m happy to be a neighbor.”

By now, you’ve read the preliminary trials and retributions of the day and are probably wondering, now what the heck does this have to do with salade nicoise? In the end, though, it doesn’t. Because the final trial occurred the next day, when, after a perfectly delightful evening cooking and dining with friends, I turned on my camera only to find that I’d accidentally erased all the photos I’d taken the day before. And I’d eaten all the salade nicoise contained in the photos the day before, too.

So the final retribution of the story, you see, is Salade Me-coise. Not by-the-book, proper salade nicoise (not that I tend to cook anything by the book), but a confluence of some of its typical ingredients, leftovers, and other things I sort of hold dear. Frozen edamame? I can’t live without them. As I no longer had green beans as I did for the previous day’s version, into the salad these steamed and husked beans went. Radishes and onions were plentiful in my refrigerator, so I gave them a good slice, too. And in place of the olives I’d all but gobbled up, I found an old but still-good container of olive tapenade in my fridge (a relic from a get-together), thinned it out with some vinegar and added fresh chopped herbs for a pungent, chunky dressing.

tapenade creates a thick dressing base

Shunned this time also was were the cold potatoes and hard-boiled egg, two signature ingredients that the salade nicoise is known for having (in fact, its Wikipedia entry states that it “should always” contain a number of certain things… sheesh). Though more cylindrical rings would have been aesthetically synonymous, I just didn’t feel like boiling anymore. But the quintessential ingredients for a salade nicoise, in my opinion at least, were still in check: some greens (baby arugula, in this case), and oil-packed Italian tuna.

(Somewhere in between the luxuriously dark, rich bluefin (which is rare and expensive, not to mention increasingly overfished) and the familiar white albacore, the type of tuna I’d purchased for this was yellowfin (aka “chunk light”). I’m not sure it was as flavorful as I was hoping it to be, but I guess that’s why it’s in a salad with all these other flavors and textures. The olive oil it’s packed in also provides flavor and half the dressing.)

olive-oil packed tuna: Do not drain

pre-dressing, everything is assembled

There’s of course no such thing as needing to follow any recipe or classic dish preparation by the book, especially for something as fluid as salads. But I didn’t really know what to call this one. Bad-luck day salad? Blown-out tire X2 a la thanks, broken glass-swept Brooklyn salade? Random this-and-thats from that-and-this previous meal salad?

Anyone who’s had a string of bad luck ever might wonder if things happened for a reason, as cheesy as it may sound. We all want retribution for our strife. And a lot of the times, maybe partially willed by later efforts, they do happen for good reason, as they did here. Because in the end, I like this Salade Me-coise better than its predecessor. Plus, the photos came out much better this time, too.

Salade Me-coise
(makes 2 big servings)

1 can high-grade olive oil-packed Italian tuna
about 4 cups baby arugula
1/2 small onion (either red or white), thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
2-3 radishes, thinly sliced
about 1 cup frozen edamame (in their pods, or 1/2 cup if already shelled from pods)
1 tablespoon olive tapenade
3 teaspoons cider vinegar
teaspoon each freshly chopped parsley and chives
freshly ground black pepper to taste (optional)
squirt of fresh lemon juice (optional)

Steam edamame for 4-5 minutes (or 3 minutes if using frozen edamame not still in their pods). Let cool, and separate the beans from their pods, if still in them (they should pop out easily). Discard pods and set aside.

Mix the olive tapenade, vinegar and chopped herbs in a small bowl until thoroughly blended.

Gently break the tuna into flakes with a fork. Combine all the ingredients, aside from the dressing in a large bowl. Add the dressing, black pepper to taste, optional lemon, and toss to coat evenly. Serve immediately.

Cost Calculator
(for 2 servings)

1 can Italian olive oil-packed tuna: $3.59
4 or so cups baby arugula mix (at $2/bag): $1.60
1 smallish red bell pepper (at $3.50/lb): $2.25
1/2 small onion (at $1/lb): $0.25
1 cup frozen edamame (at $1.25/bag): $0.35
2-3 radishes (at $1.25/lb): $0.20
1 tablespoon olive tapenade (at $5/small jar): $0.80
3 teaspoons cider vinegar: $0.10
2 teaspoons chopped parsley and chives (from houseplant): $0.10

Total: $9.24

Health Factor

Four brownie points: Whenever you’re dealing with olives, you’re in Sodium City. But with this salad, instead of getting one big bite of it at a time and with other bites zip, you have an even distribution of salt, which led me to not add any extra salt anywhere else in the recipe. I figure I used less total olives than the previous version, hence less salt. Edamame is a great source of protein, fiber and many other nutrients for few calories and sodium; oil-packed tuna, however, is much fattier and saltier though it yields valuable omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids to help combat heart disease (mercury content notwithstanding).

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: There are a lot of factors determining how ocean-friendly canned tuna is, including what type of species they are, how they’re caught and where they’re caught. According to the Blue Ocean Institute guide, yellowfin tuna are commonly purse-seine-caught for the canned market, the method which famously can endanger dolphins. Then there is the issue of whether imported tuna, from seas where their populations are more abundant, is better than domestic tuna, where populations are greatly exploited. Just a few things to bear in mind when trying to choose the lesser(s) of a handful of evils. (Don’t you just love the Green Factor??)

I was a proud glutton on Saturday. Not that co-hosting a Great Hot Dog Cook-Off isn’t reason enough to celebrate (or pack on five extra pounds), but through it all, we made over $1500 for the Food Bank for NYC from ticket sales and cash donations at the event. Fourteen chef-contestants made trays full of fabulous, fantastical frankfurter creations. We made new friends, lots of them. And it was also a day when the majority of the ballot-voting audience made this fascinating discovery: Goat cheese and hot dogs go REALLY well together. Especially with mangoes.

Although this innovation, the OK Dog (pictured above), may have won the Audience Award, every single hot dog served at the event was a winner in its own, often never-before-seen category. Internationally or regionally inspired, holiday or hue-specific, the recipes all flew far from the nest of your standard BBQ fare.

Kelly of Kelso proves beer does help at a barbecue

as do McClure’s relish and mustard

Held in the cozy, shady backyard of Kara’s (cook-off creator and co-host of Ted & Amy’s Supperclub) Fort Greene residence, the event took off on a beautiful July afternoon. Two of the three kegs graciously provided by Brooklyn-based Kelso craft brewery got flowing, with the help of proprietor Kelly himself. Jars of McClure’s relish and mustard were set out for sampling with some pretzels and for later use with the hot dogs. Not that I needed to add to this, but I resurrected the Maki Dog and Baked Brie Dog to serve as appetizers for early-comers. Then, off the cooks went.

banana-leaf wrapped dogs get grilling

an honorable mention went to this mac ‘n cheese-stuffed, collard green-wrapped dog served with cornbread and a fizzy beverage

the judges dig into Round 1

The first round saw two types of leaves wrapped around hot dogs: Team Good Times’ banana leaf-wrapped, bacon-topped dog and Lindsey Reilly’s collard green-wrapped Mac Daddy Dog, stuffed with mac and cheese. Also in Round 1 was Eugene Kim’s aforementioned OK Dog, with a refreshing and spicy mango-jalapeno salsa, three sauces and goat cheese (which I snagged the recipe for below!). Cooking in the Veggie Dog category for Round 2, Karol Lu’s banh mi sandwich inspired tofu dogs went head-to-head with Arin Kramer’s “Estelle’s” Corn Dog, named for her hen who contributed eggs to the battered and golden-baked cornmeal crust.

someone snags an Alligator Chili Dog

the Chicago Style Dog: not complete without the celery salt

the Oaxacan Chili Dog, made by a 3-year Great Hot Dog Cook-Off veteran

In Round 3, it was all about location: Scott Gold’s tequila-spiked alligator and Wagyu beef chili dog topped with crushed Fritos was a nod to his New Orleans upbringing; Phil Lubliner’s Chicago Style Hot Dog was lovingly and meticulously crafted after Stash’s famous Highland Park hot dog joint; Greg Galant’s Deep South Dog was topped with grits, bacon and cheddar; and Eric Friedman’s Oaxacan-inspired dog was served in a grilled tortilla with a scoop of chorizo mole.

the Colombian Dogs get served up

a close-up of the mouthwatering Bombay Dog

time for grace: a round of Thanksgiving Dogs

Drifting farther from North America, Round 4 featured the tangy, potato chip-topped Colombian Dog by Laena and Emma McCarthy, made with their own homemade jam and a secret pink sauce. Turning to India for inspiration, Benny Bhada perfected the Bombay Dog, a chicken frank smothered in chutney, wrapped in homemade naan, and served with raita and chile sauces. (This was my personal favorite dog of the day — not too spicy, not too sweet and most of all, not too greasy… I’ll need to get her recipe!). And bringing it all back home, Midge Pingleton’s Thanksgiving Dog was encased in puff pastry along with some bread stuffing, served atop mac and cheese and finished with a ladle of gravy. Thanks, indeed.

Kim Grauer and sous chef offer Cajun Dogs

Nichelle Stephens’ mind-altering Purple Haze Dogs

someone’s clearly still eating

Due to one chef who fell ill before the big day, the last round, Round 5, only forged two more hot dogs. Somehow, everyone still had an appetite for them. I credit this feat to Nichelle Stephens (of Cupcakes Take the Cake) for her Purple Haze Dog, a punky-looking entry with bright red cabbage, red onion and mixed berry relish; and Kim Grauer, for her gourmet Cajun Dog with its spicy-mustardy, fresh red peppery-tasting secret sauce blend.

Alright, so you want to know the winners? Formally, the contest was divided into three categories: Chili Dog, Veggie Dog, and Neither of the Above Dog. Of the two chili dog entries, the winner was a very gratified Eric Friedman, for his Oaxacan chorizo mole chili dog. (Eric’s never won his past two years competing.) Karol’s banh mi dogs edged out Arin’s corn dogs in the Veggie Dog category (I had nothing to do with the judging — swear!). Finally, in the crowded and ridiculously varied Neither of the Above category, it was Midge’s Thanksgiving Dog that ultimately prevailed. Each chef, winners included, received goody bags thanks in large part to The Brooklyn Kitchen.

Kara addresses the anxious crowd

These were all no doubt tough calls for the judges, who scored each and every hot dog on their own individual cards, without conferring with one another. We asked them to consider two-thirds for taste and one-third for presentation. As luck would have it (or perhaps I should say, as Brooklyn foodie events would have it), when the judges were chosen from the audience by a random hat drawing, none other than Serious Eats writer Jenn Sit was drawn. Check out her astute post and photos from her prime point of view here.

Adding to that democratic spirit, we also pooled the audience for their favorite hot dogs. It was a close call between two entries in particular: Honorable Mention was given to Lindsey’s Mac Daddy Dog, but by a healthy margin, the crowd chose Eugene’s OK Dog. Both of these dogs were served in the first heat several hours before the ballots even went around, which I’ll say is testament to their lasting deliciousness.

As promised, I squeezed the recipe for the OK Dog out of Eugene. A first-time Great Hot Dog Cook-Off contestant, Eugene explains the genesis of his recipe:

“Many people have asked me, ‘How’d you come up with the idea for this dog?’

It’s funny because on two separate occasions, I thought of jazzing up my barbecue with a simple, fun hot dog. First, I made a blue cheese filled hot dog, with slices of raw jalapenos. Then, I topped off a hot dog with a tomato salsa and sauerkraut. Since both items were a huge hit, I thought, ‘What if I combined the two…and made it gourmet…’ After a few tweaks here and there, the OK Dog was born (in loving memory of my grandmother, Okyi Kim, who understood that my passion for food was something worth sharing with others).”

The OK Dog
(for 4 servings)

for the mango/jalapeno salsa
2 mangoes
1 jalapeno pepper
1 red bell pepper
1 yellow pepper
1 orange pepper
Cilantro (handful – finely chopped)
½ a Lime (juice)
Scallions (handful – roughly chopped)
1 package of Goat Cheese (plain preferred)
Salt
Pepper
Red wine vinegar (optional)

for the dipping sauces:
Ketchup
Cinnamon Powder
Vanilla Powder
Mayonaise
Garlic (minced)
Honey
Lemon Juice (and zest)
Mustard
Dill (roughly chopped)
Cumin powder

Panko - Japanese bread crumbs/tempura flakes (optional)

4 Pepperidge Farm Hot Dog Buns
4 Hebrew National Reduced Fat Franks

1. Mango/Jalapeno Salsa (must be prepared 30 minutes in advance and stored in the fridge)

Dice the mangoes into ½ inch cubes and place in bowl.

While wearing gloves (important!), finely chop the jalapenos (remove seeds if mild salsa is preferred) and place in bowl with mangoes.

Dice yellow, red and orange peppers into ¼ inch pieces and add to jalapeno/mango mixture.

Add chopped cilantro, scallions and lime juice.

(optional):
In order to further reduce the heat of the jalapenos, add a tablespoon of red wine vinegar.

Season with salt and pepper.

Gently fold the mixture with a spoon. Be careful not to mash the mangoes. Place the bowl, covered, in the fridge for at least 30 minutes prior to serving.

2. Dipping Sauces (after preparation, place in fridge)

Sweet Ketchup
Add ½ a table spoon each of both the cinnamon powder and vanilla powder (be careful, a little goes a long way), to 2 cups of ketchup, and mix with spoon.

Garlic Mayo
Add 2 tablespoons of honey, 1 minced clove of garlic and ½ a lemon (juice), to 2 cups of mayonnaise, and mix with spoon.

Dill Mustard
Add handful of finely chopped dill and 1 tablespoon of cumin, to 2 cups of mustard, and mix with spoon.

3. Dog & Bun

(optional)
Using a sharp knife, gently slice 1 inch off the top side (soft) of the bun. (a thin, lighter bun allows you to capture the full flavor of the goat cheese and salsa)

Place 4 franks into boiling water and remove after 5 minutes (or when franks appear slightly swollen).

Transfer franks to plate and let rest for a minute. When slightly cooled, make an incision from the top of the frank to the bottom, making sure that the knife does not go through the frank. Do so for all 4.

Place all 4 franks on the grill, incision side up, for 2-3 minutes (it’s all about getting the grill marks).

Transfer franks to a plate and let cool. Using a butter knife and a blade’s length worth, gently fill the incision of each frank (a difficult and messy task but so worth it) with the goat cheese.

(optional)
Pour 1 tablespoon of Panko over the goat cheese filled frank.

Top off the frank with the mango/jalapeno salsa. Be generous.

Finally, sprinkle the lemon zest over the finished product and serve.

[Cost Calculator, Health Factor and Green Factor respectfully omitted for guest recipe contributions --Ed.]

To put it in more discerning culinary terminology, these might actually be galettes, the rustic hand-shaped pastry with filling. But as Merriam-Webster defines it, a galette is a flat, round pastry with filling, and these are heart-shaped (ahem, almost). “Tart” usually implies a similar dessert that takes shape by way of a tart pan, and has a sticky, gooey or custardy filling beneath the fruit topping. Or either/or. These have neither. I’m a sucker for rhymes also, so I’ll stick with tart for these.

No, I don’t have a sweetie yet to give these to. But my dear, sweet friend was hit by a car a few days ago. She’s doing so-so, working with a fractured pelvis and cuts and bruises, but thankfully nothing mentally or permanently debilitating. She and another friend had been simply crossing the street, not jaywalking, when they were struck by a car and tossed almost halfway down the block. (The other friend was better off with minor bruises and cuts.) I wasn’t there to witness, but the incident’s gotten me so shaken up that I haven’t been myself lately.

My friend was whisked off to recuperate at her parents’ home in another state. Opting against crowding the household with another bouquet, my first instinct was to look up all the fine bakeries, patisseries, specialty and gourmet food shops in the area and order something hopefully divinely satisfying. But that didn’t sit right with me. Not quite. The phone seemed so ridiculously aloof and untouchable compared to the shiny, new silicone spatula sticking out of my countertop utensil vase. And the beady New Jersey blueberries waiting there patiently for a chore in my fridge. Errr… can I just… try… to be… normal and not cook! Well, you can guess who won that battle.

the Garden State fruit

Aside from their poorly executed shape, these tarts were simple, simple, fresh fruit-and-sugar-and-it’s-done desserts. I did grate some nutmeg into the crust for a hint of spice. And I squeezed fresh lime juice into the blueberry mixture because I didn’t have any lemons around (sorry, dude!). I thought about adding slivered almonds into the crust and a drop of almond liqueur, but fresh blueberries in my opinion have such a mild-mannered taste that you really ought to sit up and pay attention to it. Plus, they’re full of healthy immune system-boosting antioxidants, which help curb the production of free radicals that can lead to diseases. And we don’t want her getting any of those.

basic pastry dough gets a few shaves of nutmeg

I’ve never sent a package of edibles in the mail before, so I have no idea how these will be once they get to her. I’m guessing the heart shapes will be even more degraded, and I’d hate to send her broken hearts. Not exactly the right message there, in any way, shape or form. I can only hope that they still taste good.

Last but not least, I’d like to say to all motorists out there, especially in this fine city of ours, watch out, because when you cross my friends or me, I get angry. And when I get angry, I… um, break out the baking equipment. Which is actually a more dangerous thing than it sounds.

just before baking (and oozing)

Blueberry Heart Tarts (almost)
(makes 4 miniature tarts)

1 cup flour
5 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1 egg yolk
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cold water
1 cup fresh blueberries
1/4 cup plus 1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon corn starch
1 tablespoon fresh lemon (or lime) juice
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (optional)

In a medium-large bowl, combine the flour, a teaspoon of sugar, salt and optional nutmeg. Add the butter cubes and break with a pastry blender or your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse meal (or spin in the food processor). Add the egg yolk until well integrated, and add a splash of the cold water at a time until the dough mixture just comes together. Form four balls. Cover with plastic wrap and chill at least 30 minutes.

Combine blueberries, sugar, corn starch, and citrus juice in a bowl and set aside. Once dough is ready to use, turn onto a flat surface and roll or press out four exaggerated “V” shapes. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Distribute the blueberry mixtures evenly into the centers of each one. Then fold over the exaggerated edges well (there should be almost an inch of overhang) and crimp the bottom point of the heart with your fingers so that the pastry comes together and forms a little wall (so the fruit doesn’t leak out). Do the same with the top crease of the heart, too. (Optional: brush the pastry edges with a little egg wash or milk for color.)

Bake for 12-15 minutes, or until edges have browned slightly. Let cool at least 10 minutes before doing anything with them.

Cost Calculator
(for 4 tarts)

1 cup fresh blueberries (at $3.50/pint): $1.75
1 cup flour: $0.50
5 tablespoons butter (at $4/qt): $0.63
1 egg yolk (at $3/dozen): $0.13
1 tablespoon lime juice (at 6/$1): $0.08
1/4 cup and 1 teaspoon sugar: $0.15
1/2 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon cornstarch, optional nutmeg: $0.10

Total: $3.34

Health Factor

Seven brownie points: It is a tart, after all, and the basic shortbread pastry is no less buttery than most. I do feel good in some ways knowing exactly how rich it is, unlike with a decadent store-bought dessert’s, and that there’s no trans fats either. Likewise for the blueberry filling, which is simple and pure. As mentioned, blueberries are renowned for their supposed disease-fighting, life-prolonging nutrients, but did you know that they’re a rich source of supposedly cholesterol-lowering pectin? A perfect match for the buttery pastry crust.

Green Factor

Six maple leaves: It’s New Jersey blueberry season until September, and if you live close to the state, the second-largest producer of blueberries last year — and since I do — time to eat ‘em while they’re ripe. I didn’t pick up this carton from the Farmers’ Market, just a local grocery store, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing them there this weekend (where I did pick up the eggs and butter). The rest of the recipe is essentially pantry basics, so this is a relatively eco-friendly, down-to-earth-y dessert.

The Great Hot Dog Cook-Off is less than one week away, time for our chef-competitors to put on their thinking caps and channel their most dogged determination. Obviously, I’ve been putting myself in their shoes lately, and this is what I’d do if I were entering the Veggie Dog category next Saturday: layer a heap of sweet vinegar-laced sushi rice atop a sheet of nori, place a cold veggie link inside it with a squirt of wasabi mayo, and roll with it. The Maki Dog: summer’s healthy, chilled, surprisingly tasty answer to dull dog boredom.

Of course, for a hot dog experiment of this kind of unprecedentedness, I had to invite my friends over for a tasting session. We finished the pack of dogs between the four of us, and fought for the last link. One of the great things about this dish was also how easy and fun it was to make. Since the veggie dogs are pre-cooked to begin with, they can be used straight out of the package without any heating or grilling (a detriment to their rubbery texture, if you ask me). Unlike most maki rolls, where a clump of ingredients like sliced veggies or fish need to be carefully pressed while rolling the maki roll up in order to create a uniform thickness, this cylindrical hot dog could be slapped down on the prepared nori sheet and rolled with one hand in a snap. And instead of spicy mustard, how about a little sharp, spicy wasabi mayonnaise to draw a squiggle with on top?

Tofu Pups, straight from the package

My friends and I thoroughly enjoyed this Maki Dog night and I’d gladly eat these again, maybe pack them for lunch sometime. It’s a great improvement on the Health Factor than my last hot dog creation, the Baked Brie Dog. I might want to try stuffing julienned cucumber around the veggie link next time for a little crunch, or what about (as Karol suggested) crispy, tempura-like french fries? They might not stay crispy for too long, but who can resist a hot dog and fries (in seaweed)?

sushi rice: the only cooking required

I don’t eat veggie dogs very often, nor do I find occasion to cook myself meat hot dogs too much. I wouldn’t want to try this application out with a cold beef frank, to be honest, but I suppose it might be alright if grilled a little first and then chilled. The sushi rice and nori are already fairly salty, and the mild-tasting veggie dog seemed to complement them just enough without overpowering the entire roll.

mayonnaise and wasabi powder is blended with sugar, vinegar and a pinch of salt

I’d like to think of the Great Hot Dog Cook-Off as the hot dog connoisseur’s antithesis to the horror and blasphemy of Nathan’s famed hot dog eating competition that went down yesterday in Coney Island; the gastronome’s response to gluttony. I’m not trying to be overly prudish or snobby, but something about the fact that there is a global food shortage, major inflation on food costs in this country, and potentially even more increases on the horizon, watching people stuff 66 hot dogs in their mouths in ten minutes makes me want to puke — even if the champs didn’t, this time. (No, I didn’t watch the eating competition on TV; still scarred from seeing Kobayashi puke onto his hot dog then continue to eat it last year.)

piping the wasabi mayonnaise from a snipped bag

So while we eat and drink plenty at the Great Hot Dog Cook-Off, I hope all the contestants, guests and surprise judges can feel proud that the object of the entire event is to benefit those less fortunate. By selling out tickets, we’ve already raised $1,500 for the Food Bank for NYC, and hope to bolster that a little bit at the contest when audience members vote for their favorite dogs. Of course, a round-up of the culinary creations that will be spawned this Saturday will be posted soon afterward. In the meantime, I’ll be on a hot dog diet.

Maki Veggie Dogs
(makes 8 dogs)

1 pkg 8 vegetarian/soy protein links (I prefer Tofu Pups brand)
4 nori seaweed sheets, folded in half and broken into 8 rectangular sheets
1 cup sushi rice
2 tablespoons sushi vinegar (can be purchased pre-mixed, or made from rice vinegar and seasonings)
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 teaspoons wasabi powder
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon rice vinegar (or substitute white vinegar)
1/4 teaspoon salt

Steam the sushi rice as you would any other type of rice — a rice cooker is preferable. Line the bottom of a wide-bottomed bowl with a tablespoon or so of the sushi vinegar. With a soft spatula, gently transfer the rice to the bowl. Sprinkle the remaining sushi vinegar throughout as you fold the rice, carefully so as not to break any grains, to both aerate and evenly distribute the vinegar. Cover bowl with a wet cloth and cool a few minutes before using.

Make the wasabi mayonnaise: Combine the mayonnaise, wasabi powder, sugar, rice vinegar and salt and mix well. (Optional: transfer to a piping bag or a plastic bag with a corner snipped off in order to pipe drizzles of mayonnaise on top of your maki dog.)

Place a nori sheet on a sushi rolling mat (if you do not have one, it’s not impossible to roll it up; just place sheet on a flat surface). Wet your fingertips and stick bits of sushi rice onto the sheet quickly, so as not to stick to your fingers (too much). Stick enough on the sheet to create a somewhat even, thin layer of rice. If desired, spread some of the wasabi mayonnaise in a line at the bottom of the rectangular sheet. Place a cold, uncooked veggie dog at the bottom, and roll starting from the bottom until you get all the way to the top. Squeeze some of the wasabi mayonnaise on top of the maki dog if desired, and serve.

Cost Calculator
(for 4-8 servings, depending on appetite)

1 pkg 8 soy protein links: $3.99
4 nori sheets (at $1.75/pkg of 10): $0.65
1 cup sushi rice (at $7.99/5 lb sack): $0.50
2 tablespoons sushi vinegar (at $2.25/bottle): $0.20
2 teaspoons wasabi powder (at $3.50/small jar): $0.50
2 tablespoons mayonnaise: $0.25
1 teaspoon each sugar, rice vinegar, 1/4 teaspoon salt: $0.25

Total: $6.34

Health Factor

Four brownie points: I think I can get used to these veggie dogs. 2.5 grams of fat and 8 grams of protein per serving is nothing to be ashamed of, indeed. As mentioned, the cold, un-cooked taste and texture of these soy protein links suited them the best, for me. No hefty use of condiments is needed here, too, since the heat of wasabi is so strong you’ll want to go easy on the mayonnaise spread for these. And, though much has been purported of the benefits of seaweed in recent years, there’s no denying that nori is a densely packed source of calcium, zinc and iodine (as well as sodium, however).

Green Factor

Three maple leaves: Aside from the tofu dogs, most of these ingredients were imported and purchased at an Asian grocery in the city: nori, sushi rice, wasabi powder, and the vinegar. I’m not sure how you could avoid this, but I do know that the staples will last you many, many maki-making sessions. Wasabi powder, anyone? I think I’m going to be experimenting with this one by putting it in marinades next…

It doesn’t have quite the ring of “black beans and rice,” nor the symbolic weight as one of the world’s most popular comfort foods, but here we are anyway: Black beans and flour, eggs, butter, herbs, cheese and tons of olive oil (mostly utilitarian for the latter, as ravioli glues together without this). And like a true un-comforting food, this was also egregiously difficult and time-consuming to make, even with my disregard to the uniformity of the ravioli’s shapes and overall prettiness. But if you’ll recall my last kitchen disaster, at least these beans were edible. Perhaps I’ve just gotten really good at making the hard stuff turn out right.

So, picking up the five-pound sack of black beans I’d bought for the previous cooking mission and avoided looking at again until now, I was curious to see if they might do well as a filling of some sort. I didn’t automatically snap and say “ravioli,” but over a period of re-thinking black beans as not a tongue-searing, panic-inducing, corpse-reviving stingray of a food substance (shudder), the idea gradually came.

cranking out the pasta sheets

I have never had a very intimate relationship with flour. Growing up in a household that rarely baked except on holidays, I don’t have the years of experience with the fine white silt behind me to not find it surprising when it turns up on my windowsill, or on my skirt the next day. Baby powder might be a more instinctual guess. Flour was that white dust inside that greyish dust-covered paper bag in the pantry. This was all before investing in a machine that cranks out fresh pasta dough into thin sheets or noodles. The key to making this happen, however, is having a high tolerance to flour — in your hair, in the air, and everywhere in the dough’s vicinity.

black bean paste makes an earthy-tasting filling

Now, after having more than a few turns at cranking out fresh pasta from a machine (which requires — lest you get sticky stuff all over your equipment — the frequent dusting of flour at every stage), I have seen flour from a much more up-close angle.

So we’ve conquered this little road, with flour. There always seems to be more reason to coat my entire apartment with it these days. First there was home bread baking, then there was pasta… it probably won’t end there. And since both bread and pasta taste oh so much better to me when they’re homemade, I’ll be cranking out plenty versions in my spare time to come.

six raviolis-to-be

For garnish, I’d originally wanted to slather the cooked pasta with a nice, shiny coating of oregano pesto. I’ve made pesto from fresh oregano before, and it tasted terrific then. But I’m not sure what went wrong this time. When it was all mashed up and ready to pour, this batch tasted defiantly bitter. The leaves looked fresh and healthy enough — nothing wrong there. Maybe I got too many little stem pieces into the mix? I have no idea, but it tasted off, so I didn’t end up using it. Just chopped a lot of extra fresh oregano, and blended it with some Italian parsley and basil from the handy plants. Perhaps yours will turn out better? Ah, the mysteries of cooking…

fresh oregano

Of course, instead of Italian cheese, this dish receiving a final dusting of grated Cojita, Mexico’s hard, dry, aged answer to Parmiggiano or Romano. A little squirt of lime and it was all set.

Black Bean Ravioli with Cojita and Fresh Oregano
(makes 4-6 servings)

2 large eggs
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for tossing things around in
1 cup dry black beans, soaked overnight in plenty of water
2 large garlic cloves, minced
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 teaspoon cumin
pinch of cayenne pepper (optional)
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
5-6 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup grated Cojita cheese
leaves of 1 bunch of fresh oregano, trimmed well from stems
other herbs, chopped (optional)
juice of half a lime

Heat about 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a saucepan over medium. Add the onions and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, 6-8 minutes. Add the soaked and drained black beans, the cumin, peppers, and a pinch of salt and enough water to cover beans by about half an inch. Turn to low and simmer for about 1 hour. Check the beans once or twice for water level. If scorching on the bottom, add a little more; if there’s too much on top still, remove cover and cook until water has evaporated. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt, pepper, etc. as desired. Finally, add the butter. Blend with a hand blender or simple masher until the beans have reached a slightly bumpy, but mostly smooth and creamy consistency.

Make ravioli sheets: Pour the flour into a large bowl. Create a well in the center, and add 4 eggs. Mix the eggs by stirring with your hands in a circular motion. Gradually incorporate flour from the edges into the eggs, until all has been incorporated. If necessary, add a tablespoon of water to the mixture (and preferably no more). Alternately, if dough is too sticky, add a little more flour. Turn dough onto a well-floured surface and knead for 6-8 minutes until smooth-textured. Form into a ball and let dough rest for 15 minutes, covered in plastic wrap. Cut off about a third and run through a pasta crank, flouring before each run, until it has completed the thinnest or second-to-thinnest setting. Continue with each chunk until all the dough is used and the sheets are resting separately on a well-floured surface.

Turn one ravioli sheet onto a well-floured surface and size it up against another sheet. If the two are roughly the same size, then place teaspoon-sized dots of the black bean mixture about 1 1/2″ inches apart from another on the first sheet (you can always just cut down the ravioli sheets to whatever size you feel most comfortable to work with, but I find this technique faster). Dip your finger in a bowl of water and trace lines of water in a grid around each dot of bean filling, to close the sides of the ravioli. Now carefully place the other pasta sheet on half and begin by pressing down on the middle spine, in between the two rows of bean filling. Continue to stretch and press your way along all the lines of the “grid,” being careful not to allow too much air into each ravioli square. Once all edges are sealed, cut with a knife (or pizza wheel!) into individual squares.

Bring a large pot of well-salted water to boil. Drop in ravioli (in batches, if needed) and cook for about 2-3 minutes each. Remove gently with a slotted spoon and drain. Transfer ravioli to an oiled bowl immediately after draining and drizzle well throughout with more olive oil. Continue until all the ravioli have been cooked. Toss the ravioli with the rest of the oil (adding more if desired), a pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper, the herbs, the cheese and the lime juice. Serve immediately.

Cost Calculator
(for 4-6 servings)

2 eggs (at $3.99/doz): $0.67
1 1/2 cups flour: $0.65
1 cup black beans: $0.50
1 bunch fresh oregano: $1.50
6 tablespoons olive oil: $1.25
1 onion: $0.30
2 cloves garlic: $0.05
2 tablespoons butter: $0.25
half a lime (at 6/$1): $0.08
1/2 cup grated Cojita cheese (at $4.99/lb): $0.60
optional basil and parsley: $0.25
cumin, peppers, salt: $0.05

Total: $6.15

Health Factor

Six brownie points: This is on the verge of being unhealthily oily, as most ravioli dishes are, but since it’s filled with protein-rich, but far from fattening beans instead of cheese, and given only a minor garnish of Cojita, this is about as healthy as raviolis come. With a healthy dose of nutritious, green leafy herbs to boot.

Green Factor

Four brownie points: It’s not a particularly “green” recipe, but in theory it sort of is. Have you noticed I haven’t been cooking much meat? Obviously, not all ravioli or pasta in general is nor should include meat, pasture-raised or otherwise, but this meat-alternative dish gives it a run for its money. Literally. Beans provide this dish with a vegetarian dose of protein while being filling, satisfying, and an overall tasty substitute. And best of all, they’re cheap. Where exactly they were harvested is another story, but being the long shelf-living, easily transported legumes that they are, a sack of beans is a healthy, low-inpact staple to have around.

Although we won’t reveal exactly what every chef is planning to do with their dogs, there’s much excitement in the air. Of the three hot dog categories, Chili Dog, Veggie Dog and Neither of the Above Dog, there’s a slight majority signed up to make the mysterious Neither of the Above Dog. We can’t wait to see how they will NOT be like the others… or anything else in the known universe, for that matter.

Finally, if you’re a wickedly creative vegetarian or vegan chef who wants to show the world their done-up veggie dog, we’re still looking for one or two more of you! (I know so many of you are out there.) Coming up shortly on this blog, I’ll be posting an unorthodox take on this dish myself. So sign up now if you’ve got the gumption, or stick around for the next recipe from my hot dog oeuvre (the last one, the Baked Brie Dog, is right here).

Those of you who missed the second annual Unfancy Food Show yesterday, I bemoan your losses. Begun as a locally-focused antithesis to the Fancy Food Show, this slovenly stepsister event took place in the backyard patio of Williamsburg’s East River Bar over six hours of scattered thunderstorm. And a good time was had by all.

I’d missed the inaugural event last year somehow, and this time I arrived after a late brunch party with a notion of sticking around to chat with some of the local vendors, meeting some friends, and pecking my way through delicious samples and scraps. What resulted was my abandoning all later plans for the day, and having myself a bonafide unfancy feast.

The first stop for sampling was cheese. My companion for the day Matt persuaded me to accept a soft, misshapen morsel of pure milkiness called Constant Bliss from the knife of the attendant at Jasper Hill Farm. I was speechless for about a minute. Mostly because my mouth was thoroughly coated.

buttery and constantly blissful

the cheese whiz from Jasper Hill Farms

More cheesetherapy came by way of Salvatore Brooklyn, which crafts rich whole milk ricotta from locally pastured cows. They were serving some cannoli, too, but a slick of ricotta on squares of bread was also ripe for the eating — and free.

holy cannoli from Salvatore Brooklyn

Next up, we tasted terrines, pâtés and — this was a new one for me — pork rillette from Gabriel’s Handmade. This was all very rich for my blood, coming away from the cheese-sperience. But like a true freeloader, I tasted everything on the tray. My favorite was their country pâté with wild ramps.

chicken liver mousse on flatbread

country pâté

Next I chatted with pals Scott Gold (who I grilled a few months ago here), who was signing and selling copies of his meat manifesto The Shameless Carnivore, alongside Emily Farris, author of the upcoming cookbook Casserole Crazy. It seemed appropriate that there was a grill not too far away at Tamarack Hollow Farm’s stand blasting smoke from juicy pork belly over to Scott’s table the entire time, where he sat assumably very contented.

Meatin’ and greetin’: authors Scott Gold and Emily Farris

marinated pork belly slabs on sticks at Tamarack Hollow Farm

pork was far from “the other white meat” at this show

It was so hot by the time we sweaty-shouldered our way to the end of the aisle of food stands that I just had to have some ice cream. This artisanal glob of purple goodness from Van Leeuwen was just what my tastebuds needed, if not my diet, exactly.

blackberry ice cream from Van Leeuwen

And then, it began to pour. Furiously. We ducked inside the bar for some drinks and a little rest from all the food and crowd, but not before grabbing a bite of homemade organic granola bars from Luminous Kitchens and some tasty (and beautifully wrapped) chocolate from Mast Brothers.

my lone healthy snack: Luminous Kitchens’ apricot granola bar

Mast Brothers’ Chocolates

When McClure’s Pickles began serving little glasses of virgin bloody mary mix made with their spicy pickle brine, Matt and I came up with the fabulous idea of grabbing shots of vodka from the bar and pouring it into a proper cupful of the spicy, tangy, dill-y mixer. Bob and his brother Joe were more than amenable to the situation, and gave us money to run out and grab some more tomato juice when theirs was tapped. In addition to pickles and relishes, they were also doling out test batches of some wickedly tasty pickled cauliflower and grainy, porter-infused mustard, which I hope get the green light for mass production soon. Well, as “mass” as craft pickling goes.

McClure brothers Bob and Joe representing Brooklyn and Detroit, respectfully

the Bloody McClure’s — tomato juice, vodka and McClure’s spicy pickle brine

That’s the toothpick my wedge of spicy pickle was buoyed to shortly before dropping to the bottom of the cup. By the end of the drink, it was spicy, boozy and yes, still crisp. This Bloody McClure’s, as I’ll call it, may have been the best damn thing I tasted at the show (and sealed the deal for my demise at the pool table). But the real highlight of the event for me was getting to meet Julie Powell (of the bestselling book and once-blog Julie & Julia), who is for all intents and purposes my virtual fairy blogmother, and discovering that she is a real person; very nice; and just as funny as she sounds in her writing.

event co-creator Tom Mylan, butcher at Diner and Marlow & Sons

More VIP encounters included Zach Brooks, who writes Midtown Lunch but frequents Brooklyn foodie community events, Erin Zimmer, a staff blogger at Serious Eats (read her write-up here), and finally, Tom Mylan, presiding genius of Unfanciness himself (read about Tom’s vision for the Unfancy Food Show here). Tom was quick to apologize for not putting up good enough tents over the stands, but I thought the constant drips added to the show’s (anti?)-allure. The better it to rain cats and dogs and pigs and rabbits — yes, a live rabbit appeared on a table at some point late in the show that I heard a rumor going around was going to be devoured the same evening by these folks — for true, unrestrained unfanciness. Plus, the day was so hot and muggy that I was drenched in sweat before I could sink my teeth into a spicy pickle. The showers cooled everyone off a bit, and I’d like to think that we all felt sticky, gross, fat, and full together. Hey, we were all shameless carnivores yesterday.

gnash! This is my face on meat

My apologies to the several gracious vendors whose grub I did not snap shots of. They’re all listed on the the event’s official website (and include Hot Bread Kitchen, whose hand-ground corn tortillas totally rocked my fish tacos). Altogether, they made a Brooklyn barbecue to be remembered, while cultivating a delicious sense of community, local and humane food production practices, and crafted-in-small-batches-with-love-but-way-too-cool-to-be-called-gasp-”fancy” fare. Unfancy that.

But then, would they ever be — really?

Even if I tried really, really hard? I doubt it. There are many differences between home cooking and professional cooking, first and foremost being level of skill. But as a commercial enterprise, the bottom line in a restaurant kitchen is to consistently create memorable, really good-tasting food that you’ll want to come back for again.

There are plenty of restaurants that pride themselves on the overall healthfulness of its dishes, but New York is not a culinary capital shy of fat.

Let’s take a quick stroll through nutritional fact land:

-1 sesame bagel with plain cream cheese from Dunkin’ Donuts: 25 grams of fat, 220 calories.

-1 slice of cheese pizza from NYC chain Ray’s Pizza: 25 grams of fat, 613 calories.

-1 chicken burrito with rice, beans, cheese and sour cream from Chipotle: 39 grams of fat, 918 calories

-1 Wendy’s Classic Double with everything and cheese: 40 grams of fat, 710 calories.

-Cosi Signature Salad with Shallot Sherry Vinaigrette (not including the free bread): 52 grams of fat, 683 calories.

That last meal was what an old co-worker of mine used to eat just about every day for lunch — including the free bread. It has no meat, and the dressing really is a vinaigrette. Most people would call this a healthy, light lunch. New York Magazine’s Grub Street editor Josh Ozersky, on Dateline (watch here via Serious Eats), would call it a “sucker salad.”

So how does this enormous fat toll happen?

I call it restaurant magic. Well, for one thing, looks can be deceptive. Not to rat on Cosi or any of the above restaurants in particular, but that salad had its share of cheese and nuts, stuff that, while beneficial in some ways, you’ll want to eat in moderation. But in general, both fast-food and high-brow, chain and boutique restaurants just use a whole lot more oil, butter and fat than one would suppose. The difference between when a home cook makes risotto and when a professional chef does is that at the end of the process, two sticks of butter are missing when the chef makes it. Where did they go?? Magic. There are also not-so-secretive maneuvers, such as when you ask for your morning bagel “lightly buttered,” and it comes with a smear the size of sandwich fillings. A friend of mine once found a glob of unmelted butter in his bowl of (not even cream-based) soup and was so horrified and disgusted that he couldn’t eat anymore.

It seems to me it’s much easier to eat less fattening food when cooking for yourself because for one thing, it’s cheaper, and it doesn’t occur to home cooks to hide a half stick of butter inside soup, or use up half their bottle of expensive olive oil on one night’s pasta. When you pay for the luxury of eating at a restaurant, you’re paying for the extra douses of oil and fat because, after all, they give flavor to foods.

So, even if it might seem obvious that when a person orders a cupcake or brownie, they couldn’t give a hoot how healthful it is, and even now that chain restaurants (only, so far at least) will label calorie counts, the fact is, it can be really hard to tell how healthy your meal is when you’re not cooking it. It’s impossible, really. This is a completely fictional anecdote, but who can forget the Seinfeld episode when Elaine puts on pounds after gorging on fat-free frozen yogurt that wasn’t?

Now, I’m no poster child of healthy living. I have more than a few bad health habits which I won’t go into detail here too much. But just last night, I drank tequila shots, danced barefoot after breaking glass on the floor and chugged home on my bike eating a bag of Combos, if you get the picture. (It wasn’t a pretty one.) But when I’m not under the unstoppable force of tequila (or other, highly stoppable ones), I get a really good kick out of feeling healthy. And that’s the way I prefer to be during and after a meal. I can’t stand the slump of post-greasy meal consumption, and who wants to hang out with someone suffering a big twisted bellyache? At least when I inflict that kind of anguish on myself with something I made, I have no one else to blame.

This also relates to Reason #2: Mystery Illnesses, the unpleasant experience of food poisoning or other unpleasantries due to eating that which is not entirely known from a restaurant, as well as serve a footnote to Reason #18: When you do eat out, things are different… Essentially, what you order and its calories or fat count or bellyache you get in return isn’t always a straightforward transaction, or make common sense.

Yes, this could just as easily happen if I were to cook up a big, huge, greasy slopburger on my stovetop and call it a weeknight’s treat. But… seriously? I’ll stick to occasional weeknight tequila dancing for now, thank you very much.

Ah, summer. These are the only reasons I stick it out in New York the rest of the year.

It all began with my first summer here, as a wide-eyed, twenty-year-old college sophomore. It was every bit the definition of “salad days” – living in Alphabet City with my best friend in an apartment we rented ridiculously cheap because it was owned by her family friends, romping around the Village and Lower East Side, sometimes successfully sneaking into bars, sometimes not, but always having an adventure. There was nothing very “salad”-y about our diet then, if you counted out deviled eggs (one affordable luxury and my ex-roommate’s penchant). And lord knows I didn’t make it to the grocery store much. But I think the term fits — New York is full of contractions, right?

And last weekend marked the beginning of another summer. It doesn’t matter that temperatures get hot enough to melt blacktop, or that people dress down with such abandon as to fill your morning commute thoughts with rants in the vein of Vice Magazine’s Don’ts. Summers are great because there’s just more stuff happening. There’s more weird parades, outdoor music, empty pool parties and assorted mayhem to attend to. More lawn-top, rooftop and riverside film festivals to see. More on-the-fly barbecues, fireworks and flings. And it seems like people are doing more and more with their barbecues and food parties than ever; that everyone who has a yard of outdoor space wants to be a master smoker or attempt to roast a whole pig.

I digress, but what I really wanted to talk about was how this all tied into chicken salad. You see, it’s the dawning of a newer, more sophisticated era of chicken salad for me, right now. This is a dish that I had formerly shrugged off as pedestrian and often unappetizing. But no more sad, barely seasoned, celery studded and thickly mayonnaised-only chicken salads there will be. Not after this past weekend, when I invited several friends for a picnic in Prospect Park, the theme dish being chicken salad.

the nectarine & basil one

Why chicken salad? Because I thought it would lend itself to endless variation, transportation, and require little utensils or disposable plates. But mostly, because it would lend itself to endless variation, including even vegan “chicken” salad.

a mixed-up one with arugula

Guests did not disappoint on this. Among the ingredients thrown into all the varieties combined were mushrooms, peppers, bacon, walnuts, radishes, nectarines, smoked paprika, basil. Etc. Though summer officially began on Friday, Saturday’s summer solstice, or the longest day of the year, was one of those exceptionally sunny yet mild days we see so rarely. Appropriately, I probably spent the longest time I’ve ever in the park, eating and hanging out, and when the evening gave way to dinnertime cravings, there was plenty of food still to go around. We even stuffed split sugar snap peas that someone brought with chicken salad and created a new sort of snack. By the end of the night, I was eating chicken salad(s) straight from their containers with a fork. I am not proud of this moment, but what’s done is done.

the jerk chicken one, just the chicken, pre-chopping

One of the reasons I got started on this idea was when, over drinks with a friend — the same friend who I spent my first summer with in the East Village — she mentioned something about how eating cold chicken felt so right in the summer. Coldness transforms the poultry to a completely different, firmed-up texture with locked-in flavors that grow on you with every bite.

homemade no-knead bread for serving

Cold jerk chicken is something I’ve never tasted before, and in fact, I haven’t made jerk chicken (or pork, or anything) before, either. But I wanted to invent a jerk chicken salad. So taking cues from a few jerk marinade recipes, and with the help of the shops in my predominantly Caribbean neighborhood, I whipped up a tangy, spicy salad to stuff between sliced bread. As a back-up, I threw together another chicken salad involving bits and pieces of random things found in my fridge — some nectarines, torn fresh basil, red onion. Nothing too crazy. This one actually turned out to be my favorite. So, your choice. Two recipes for the reading time span of one:

“Jerk” Chicken Salad
(makes about 3 cups)

2 lbs boneless chicken breasts
for the marinade
1″ knob fresh ginger, grated
1/2 cup orange juice
1 garlic clove, minced
juice of 2 limes
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon allspice
1 teaspoon dried thyme
3 tablespoons dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 scotch bonnet pepper, seeds removed and very finely chopped (or 2 if you’re brave)
for the salad
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 yellow bell pepper, finely chopped
1 celery rib, finely chopped
2-3 scallions, both white and green parts, chopped
juice of 1 lime (or less)
salt and pepper to taste

Throw all ingredients for the marinade into a blender or food processor and blend until completely combined. Place chicken in a bowl and pour marinade over to cover. Wrap tightly and chill overnight.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Heat up a grill or large pan that can be transferred to the oven with a couple tablespoons of vegetable oil. Remove chicken from the marinade with tongs and let excess drip off a few moments, or shake gently (reserve marinade for later use). Once oil is hot, place chicken down on pan and leave for 1-2 minutes. Check to see if bottom is nicely browned and caramelized and if so, flip and cook on opposite side another 2 minutes. Once it’s well browned (but not burnt), transfer pan to the oven and let cook 6-8 minutes, checking occasionally, or until meat is just cooked through. Remove from pan and let cool.

Meanwhile, pour the leftover marinade into a pot and heat on medium high on the stove. Let boil, and reduce to about one-third (about 5-6 minutes). Remove from heat and let cool.

Once chicken is cool enough to handle, chop into 1/4″ cubes. Combine with the rest of the ingredients for the salad in a large bowl. Add the reduced marinade (should be sticky and almost solidified). Mix thoroughly and adjust seasoning to taste. Chill at least 1 hour before serving to let flavors marry a little.

Chicken Salad with Nectarines and Basil
(makes about 3 cups)

2 lbs boneless chicken breasts
for the marinade
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/8 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
for the salad
1 nectarine, chopped to 1/2″ cubes
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
1 large celery rib, finely chopped
15 or so basil leaves, roughly torn
1/3 cup mayonnaise
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
juice of 1 lime of lemon
salt and pepper to taste

Rub chicken with ingredients for the marinade; cover tightly and chill for a few hours or up to overnight. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Heat up a grill or large pan that can be transferred to the oven with a couple tablespoons of vegetable oil. Once oil is hot, place chicken down on pan and leave for 1-2 minutes. Check to see if bottom is lightly browned and if so, flip and cook on opposite side another 2 minutes. Once it’s well browned (but not burnt), transfer pan to the oven and let cook 6-8 minutes, checking occasionally, or until meat is just cooked through. Transfer chicken to a bowl and let cool.

Once cool enough to handle, chop chicken into 1/2″ cubes. Fold together with the rest of the ingredients for the salad in a large bowl. Cover and chill at least 1 hour before serving to let the flavors marry.

Cost Calculator
(for both chicken salads — 6 cups, or enough to serve a lot)

4 lbs boneless chicken breasts (at $4.50/lb): $18.00
1 yellow pepper: $1.00
1 nectarine: $0.50
2 celery stalks: $0.30
1/2 red onion: $0.25
2 scallions: $0.20
1 scotch bonnet pepper; $0.33
4 limes: $0.60
15 basil leaves (from plant): $0.20
1/2 cup orange juice: $0.40
1″ knob ginger: $0.10
2/3 cup mayonnaise: $0.40
2 teaspoons mustard: $0.20
3 tablespoons brown sugar: $0.15
2 tablespoons olive oil: $0.15
nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, thyme, cumin, cayenne pepper, salt, black pepper: $0.45

Total: $23.23

Health Factor

Five brownie points: Talking about both recipes in general, here, there are a lot of pros. Both employ vibrant, fresh veggies almost in equal ratio with the proteins. Almost. In the first recipe, the flavorful, reduced marinade creates most of the sauciness that would usually be achieved through fatty mayonnaise. In the second recipe, there’s a little more mayonnaise to go around but a lot of simple, fresh ingredients with little embellishment.

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: Again, not great, but not bad, either. The chicken was organic, picked up from a regular grocery store actually at a marked-down sale price. (There wasn’t time to check out a Greenmarket producer on Saturday since the picnic was the same day.) I am trying to remember why I had a nectarine lying around and just came up with it: I pick up fruit from a Midtown street vendor every now and then, when I’m feeling snacky at work. So I bought nectarines one day, at two for a dollar. They’re not in season in the Northeast yet, though you wouldn’t know it from the way they’re all over the street, literally, as well as generic groceries. The yellow bell pepper, too, must have been shipped in from the West Coast to the Caribbean bodega in my ‘hood. But the scallions, red onion and celery were all Greenmarket purchases.

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