We are in the thick of June now, aren’t we? Seems so sudden but the neighbor kid across the street bounces his basketball at all hours of the day instead of just after school, and we’ve had a few real sundress afternoons in Seattle. I remember when summer used to be this broad expanse of what seemed like endless time. There were trips to the local library with my mom, outdoor sprinklers, mid-day naps and sleepovers that included spoonfuls of raw cookie dough with my best friend, Kristin. It obviously looks different now. There is a noticeable lack of mid-day naps and raw cookie dough, that’s for sure. There are deadlines and work obligations, but at least they’re often punctuated with sunny mornings, outdoor cocktails at our funky little picnic table, occasional gardening and quick camping trips.
While the days are longer, for some reason they tend to fill up just as quickly so lunch often ends up a haphazard meal — usually a combination of leftover grains, some vegetables from the crisper and a fried egg. Alternatively, a substantial salad or Sam’s coleslaw is a good fill in. But this year, I’ve gotten really into cold soba noodle salads. The noodles cook in a mere 4 minutes and they’re just as good cold as they are warm. If you’re new to soba noodles, they’re made of buckwheat so they’re naturally gluten-free (just be sure to buy the buckwheat variety if gluten is a concern as they do make wheat-based soba noodles now, too). They feel much lighter than traditional pasta noodles, making them a natural choice for the warmer summer months.
Along with seasonal lunch slumps comes the inevitable summer hustle of weddings, graduations, social obligations … you know. In the midst of all that, it’s often easy to retreat into quicker, easier ways of coordinating our days. Last week I read a great article in The New York Times by Jonathan Safran Foer called How Not to Be Alone (thanks to Olaiya for passing it on). In it, Safran Foer discusses how so many of us have begun to prefer substitutes for actually connecting with family, friends and neighbors instead of the real thing. I’m just as guilty: I’ll often prefer text messages over phone calls to quickly arrange meetings with friends. Sam chides me at the farmers market because there are some people who just like to stand at the booth and chat — obviously not intending to buy a bag of granola and, truthfully, blocking the table for others who may wish to. He always assures me they could be customers someday once I make a genuine connection with them. Or maybe they’re just having a rough day and need to chat. In Sam’s camp, Safran Foer mentions that “everyone is always in need of something that another person can give, be it undivided attention, a kind word or deep empathy.”
The final paragraph of his essay really caught my breath. I read it a few times. Then I thought about it for two days straight: “We live in a world made up more of story than stuff. We are creatures of memory more than reminders, of love more than likes. Being attentive to the needs of others might not be the point of life, but it is the work of life. It can be messy, and painful, and almost impossibly difficult. But it is not something we give. It is what we get in exchange for having to die.” It’s easy to forget all of that. It’s easy to look past the people standing at your farmers market booth who want to say hello — just because. It’s easy to text your friends with business questions instead of calling or curse your landlord for not having email, thereby forcing you to actually pick up the phone.
I can’t say that I’ve mastered any of it. I still like emails and text messages to coordinate with friends and family; it gives me time to measure my response and check the calendar. But this article made me pause as I think about my last post and how much better I feel having more people in my day-to-day life now. I guess I was saying the same thing as Safran Foer — just not as eloquently. Connecting with each other is all we have. Today it’s easier to skirt around it than to actually dive in. But maybe, just for the summer, we can all practice the fine art of the dive. I’m going to try.
After I put the photos of this recipe up on the site, I realized it looks quite similar to this pasta salad with avocado dressing that I made weeks ago. I must be in a the mood for seedy pasta dishes with flavor-forward sauces — because here we are again. But this one is quite different, I assure you. Since seeing the parsley pesto recipe in Bon Appetit, I’ve had parsley on my mind. My version has a bit of added garlic and lemon zest for brightness. It’s super green — which I love — and is a great way to use up leftover parsley.
Beyond the noodles, this salad has all of the textures a good noodle salad should have: crisp radishes and English cucumbers paired with mild sheep’s milk cheese and toasty seeds — a most satisfying summer lunch on its own or a great accompaniment to a larger dinner spread. In truth, you can add any vegetables (or cubed tofu) you’d like here: blanched asparagus, summer carrots or English peas would be colorful and delicious. Or chop up a mess of summer greens like kale or arugula and fold those in at the end. If you try a variation, I’d love to hear about it!
I like this salad cold but you could certainly rinse the soba noodles under hot water instead of cold water, toss it all together and serve hot. A quick logistics note: there are pepitas in both the salad and the pesto, so plan to purchase and use 1 1/2 cups total. Next time I make this, I’m going to top each serving with a bit of lemon zest, and maybe even fold chopped parsley into the salad itself. Red chile flakes would be nice, too.
For Parsley Pesto (Makes about 1 1/4 cups pesto)
Cook the soba noodles in a medium pot of boiling salted water for 4 minutes. Drain then rinse thoroughly under cold water. Drain again and pat dry.
Toast the seeds: Preheat the oven to 350 F. Lay all of the pepitas (1 1/2 cups) in an even layer on one side of a rimmed baking sheet and sesame seeds on the other side. Toast for about 5 minutes, or until slightly fragrant — the sesame seeds should become more golden than white. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.
Make the pesto: Pulse 3/4 cup toasted and cooled pepitas in a food processor until smooth. Add parsley, garlic, chives, oil and Parmesan and process until smooth. Fold in lemon zest and season with salt and pepper.
Assemble: In a large bowl, toss together the soba noodles with the radishes, green onion, cucumber, toasted seeds (I reserve about a tablespoon of each to sprinkle on top) and ¾ cup – 1 cup parsley pesto. Taste and season with salt and pepper. Fold in the ricotta salata at the end. Divide into serving bowls and sprinkle with some the reserved toasted seeds. Leftovers will keep for 2-3 days if covered and refrigerated.
My good friend Keena was working in India for the last few months and just returned to Seattle, eager to experience as much Pacific Northwest summer as possible in September. I'm with her on this one: It just so happens that towards the end of this month, the farmers markets I've been doing will also come to an end, so things seem like they're both simultaneously gearing up (hike! picnic! beach!) and wrapping up at the same time as I also feel a sense of wanting to cram in as much as I can before the days start getting noticeably shorter. And truly: there's no better recipe to commemorate such efforts than these fresh corn grits with oil-poached summer tomatoes.
For many years, I've always made a summer to-do list. I usually set to work on it right at the beginning of June when the days feel long and ripe with possibility. The list often involves things like learning to bake sourdough bread or making homemade ricotta, doing an epic hike I'd read about in a local magazine, training for a marathon, or reading specific novels. It is always a pretty aspirational list, and I generally don't make much of a dent in it -- resulting in the guilty feeling come late August that I'd wasted too many lazy afternoons when I could've been baking sourdough or making ricotta or doing memorable, epic hikes. But this summer is going to be a bit different: there will be no list. We wait so long in Seattle for long stretches of sunny days, and now that it stays late until 9:30 (or later?), I want to see more of our friends and find stretches of time to do not much of anything except catch up, tan our legs and eat farmers market berries. That's my list.
I received The Sprouted Kitchen Bowl + Spoon cookbook in the mail not long before we moved to our new house, and I remember lying in bed and bookmarking pages I was excited to try but also feeling overwhelmed with where to start: the truth is that this summer has been a relatively low-inspiration / low energy time in the kitchen for me. I'd been chalking it up to pregnancy but when I think back and if I'm honest with myself, my cooking style tends to be very easy and produce-driven during these warmer months. I rarely break out complicated recipes, instead relying on fresh tomatoes and corn or zucchini and homemade pesto to guide me. But last night I cracked open Sara's book and pulled out a few peaches I've had sitting on the counter, fearing their season may be nearing its end. This morning as I was making coffee, I sliced up the peaches, toasted the pecans and churned away -- having a bite (or maybe two) before getting it into the freezer to firm up.
A triple berry summer crisp made with oats, quinoa flakes and hazelnuts. Summer in a skillet.
We just returned from my mom's cabin on Lake George in upstate New York where we often spend the 4th of July. As usual, each bedroom was packed with family members (this year the couch was even occupied for a night), and our days with reading, lounging on the dock, swimming a bit, maybe jogging down the road or playing tennis if you were feeling ambitious. We drank a notable amount of seltzer water; I managed to read three books and my mom threw us a family baby shower complete with balloons, chocolate cake and Mike's rhubarb bars. In previous years, my mom has planned most of the dinners and even some lunches, but for breakfast we'd all fend for ourselves. I'd often bake a pie or a batch of brownies in the afternoon and everyone would help out where they could, but she would largely do the shopping and brunt of the cooking. This year was different: having just moved from California to Vermont, my mom had a lot on her plate and sent out an email before the holiday weekend asking us all to chip in and help with the meals. Sam and I claimed Friday dinner: we grilled sausages and Sam made his famous deviled eggs. We cut up some unusually seedy watermelon that I found at the co-op in Burlington before we drove out to the lake, and I made a summery quinoa salad that I expected to be kind of epic. The trouble was that it wasn't. I overcooked the quinoa until it was kind of a congealed mush and everything just went downhill from there. But I knew that the idea was strong -- to pack a whole grain salad with all the things of summer (corn! tomatoes! basil!) -- so when we got home to Seattle I tried again. And this time it's a winner.