Ravenous Fig

I was "lucky" enough to be introduced to McDonald's Salad Shakers at the ripe age of thirteen. I guess you could say they made an impression on me, because I'm still amused by salads that come packaged in a shake-able format. What could be better than a salad that travels well, and is easy to mix with the dressing when the time comes?

That will be my one plug for McDonalds on this blog. Promise.

Anyway, with Vance working like a bleary-eyed developer at a nutty start-up, our dinners can't be the elaborate affairs they used to be. At least not on weeknights. So I've tried to pick recipes that are quick, healthy, and easy, and can be packaged up for lunch the next day without going through too many dishes. This fits all three of those requirements to a tee.

While these may come in cute packages, they shouldn't be kept for more than a day in the refrigerator. If you need to make them that far in advance, jar up everything but the romaine and add it at the last minute.

One of the things I've grown to miss about Orlando is our membership in the local food cooperative. While we're closer to CSA's than we've ever been, we didn't get here until after the start of the season and so haven't had an opportunity to take part. The nearest food co-op is outside the city, in Hillsborough or Chapel Hill, and that's unsustainable considering my current mode of transportation.

All that to say, we've become spoiled by the Durham farmer's market, our most reliable source of locally grown fare. There's so much in season right now, we never have to try anything new because of the abundance of local veg we already love. The mystery box of produce we'd get from the co-op back in Florida, even with its peculiar, self-peeling "fruit" and occasional off-putting melons, broadened our palettes and forced us to consume copious amounts of greens and vegetables we would have otherwise avoided entirely.

All of this was top of mind for me during our visit to the market early yesterday morning. A storm had come through the night before, which made for a smaller-than-usual crowd, but also knocked out power at our favorite Saturday morning bakery. No crostatas this week? Horrors. I wanted to get out of my comfort zone to be sure, but not before my morning coffee. (Cue violin music).

Scratch has been making a sweet cherry tomato and farmer's cheese crostata lately. It's the kind of pastry that invades your dreams and forces you to get up early enough to grab one before they're all gone. (Clearly I've fallen off the gluten-free bandwagon). I wasn't about to let a power outage stop me from having a crostata before the day's end. As we wandered from booth to booth, I picked up everything I'd need to recreate them at home, with the addition of a little something extra: purple hull peas. I remember eating copious amounts of purple hull peas growing up, simmered simply with bacon, but never fresh, and certainly never purchased right from the farmer who picked and shelled them.

If you're lucky enough to have some of these ingredients nearby, go for it! If not, feel free to mix and match whatever beans, vegetables, or cheese you might be able to grab at your local market.

Last week we made what might just be the quintessential summer lunch. It was the most unusual salad I've had probably ever, combining sweet cubes of watermelon with tart, juicy heirloom cherry tomatoes and the most uncanny cheese: burrata.

Burrata was new to me until I came across it in Laurent Tourondel's gorgeous Fresh from the Market cookbook. It's one of those cheeses you'd be hard-pressed to find in a standard American grocery store, since it's short-lived and finnicky.

Burrata. Image credit: Francesca Palazzi

Luckily, there's a new cheese shop in Durham, Reliable Cheese. They carry a wide range of top-notch cheeses, and the guy who seems to be running the place is incredibly knowledgeable about them. Anyway, they tweeted that they had a fresh supply of burrata in stock so I jumped on the chance to finally make this beautiful salad.

I'd tell you more about this most unusual cheese, but the truth is I'm not an expert on the subject. According to Wikipedia…

Burrata is a fresh Italian cheese, made from mozzarella and cream. The outer shell is solid mozzarella while the inside contains both mozzarella and cream, giving it an unusual, soft texture. It is usually served fresh, at room temperature. The name "burrata" means "buttered" in Italian.

And that's what's so great about it. The outside is deceptively buffalo-mozzarella-like. Inside, the flavor and texture are more like sour cream, which is a surprising and delicious accompaniment to a salad with as many strong flavors as this one has.

To be honest, I'll probably retreat to a standard balsamic vinegar, basil, and heirloom tomato version of this salad the next time I find a source for burrata. But for those who love both watermelon and ginger, this one is a showstopper.

[caption id="attachment_660" align="aligncenter" width="540" caption="Gluten Free, Animal Free Pad Thai."][/caption]

There is a corner of the pantry in my kitchen where ingredients go to die. Once used and quickly forgotten, they sit and wait to be cooked with another day, only to long pass their expiration date and have their flavor degrade to something south of sawdust.

That is where I found our jar of refined coconut oil hiding. Lucky for us, it stubbornly refuses to suffer the fate of its neighbors in the Corner We Do Not Speak Of. After months of neglect, it's still good as new. (As long as you don't mind it looking like a mess of rubber cement with grits floating in it.) I'll get back to the coconut oil in a bit…

Yesterday I was rifling through my stack of cookbooks on the hunt for some gluten free tapas recipes. We're throwing a tapas party for the Relevance crew in a couple of weeks, and there's at least one gluten-free guest coming.

This got me thinking about the reasons people choose a gluten-free diet — some for allergies, some for Celiac disease, and some for general health. All that to say I decided to spend a couple of weeks being more cognizant of the gluten in my diet, and cutting back intentionally to see if there is a measurable difference in how I feel or how my skin reacts.

Over the next week or two, I'll be choosing gluten-free options for lunch and dinner (and breakfast, after that hunk of coffee cake I just made is gone — darn). Tonight's dish was both vegan and gluten-free, but also completely delicious and worth making if you love Pad Thai.

Which brings me back to the refined coconut oil. It's a wonderful alternative cooking oil for high-heat applications, making it great for stir frying the tofu and vegetables in Pad Thai. Use it, love it, and don't forget about it in the back of your pantry.

One of the best parts about our recent move is Durham's proximity to Western North Carolina (relative to the drive we used to have to make from Orlando, that is). Brevard (about a half-hour outside of Asheville) is one of my favorite small towns — great antique stores, antique cars, a few local restaurants, and plenty of hiking and mountain biking to be had.

[caption id="attachment_650" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="This peach salsa adds tons of natural sweetness and color to simple dishes."][/caption]

We're enjoying a little time out here for the 4th, which means a change in diet to match the rest of the family, which means meat at every sitting. (Ah, meat belly.) Of course we're sticking to the humanely raised rule, but that doesn't help it all to feel less heavy. Anyone who's switched from being vegetarian (or mostly) to eating meat one or more times a day can vouch for that one.

For that, we turn back to veg. Specifically, we turned to freshly made salsa. Being peach season in the South, Vance and I came up with the idea to do a grilled peach salsa with roasted red peppers, basil, and mint to top off our portion of protein. This recipe ended up being a great way to bring a little freshness back into our diets, not to mention adding a little flare to the dinner.

Salsa or no salsa, I'm going to need a major helping of greens tomorrow. I'm starting to feel like a caveman.