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.
On Monday our little family of three is headed to the airport at 6 am to board our first with-baby cross-country trip. We'll be visiting Sam's family in New Jersey for a few days, then renting a car and driving over to meet up with my family at my mom's lake house in the Adirondacks. Sam's younger sister and her kids have yet to meet Oliver; my grandpa has yet to meet him, and Oliver has yet to take a dunk in a lake, see a firefly, or spend quality time with energetic dogs -- of which there will be three. A lot of firsts. This week my family has been madly texting, volunteering to make certain meals or sweets on assigned days while we're at the cabin and it got me thinking about really simple, effortless summer desserts -- in particular, ones that you can make while staying in a house with an unfamiliar kitchen and unfamiliar equipment and still do a pretty bang-up job. I think fruit crisp is just that thing.
In a few short weeks, we're headed to New York, Vermont and New Jersey to visit family and see my sister Zoe get married. In starting to think through the trip and do a little planning, I found Oliver the cutest tiny-person dress shoes I've ever seen (and he's quite smitten with them), sussed out childcare options for the night of the wedding, and found what feels like the most expensive (and last) rental car in the state of New Jersey. I try very hard not to be one of Those People that begins lamenting the loss of a season before it's remotely appropriate to do so, but this year, as we'll be gone much of September, I've felt a bit of a 'hurry, make all the summery things!' feeling set in. So we've been managing increasingly busy days punctuated with zucchini noodle salads, gazpacho, corn on the cob and homemade popsicles (preferably eaten shirtless outside followed by a good, solid sprinkler run for one small person in particular. Not naming any names).
Somehow, in what seems to have been a blink of an eye, we have a six month old baby. In some ways I can't remember a time we didn't have an Oliver, and in other ways it's all a blur broken up by a few holidays (a Thanksgiving thanks to grocery store takeout, and our very first Christmas in Seattle), a few family visits, a one-day road trip to Portland, a birthday dinner out, a birthday cake, weekend drives to nowhere in particular, swimming at the pool with Oliver, weekly get-togethers with our parent's group, doctor's visits, hundreds of walks around the neighborhood, hundreds of cups of coffee, dozens (or more?) of scoops of ice cream. Most of the worrying about keeping a baby alive has made way for other concerns, and Oliver's need for constant stimulation or soothing walks and car rides has been traded for stretches of time playing with a new toy or checking out his surroundings. In truth, it's thanks to that tiny bit of baby independence that this humble, summery cake came to be in the first place. So we've all got an Oliver to thank for that. Or, really, we have a Yossi Arefi to thank, as it's from her beautiful new cookbook that I've bookmarked heavily and am eager to continue exploring.
A triple berry summer crisp made with oats, quinoa flakes and hazelnuts. Summer in a skillet.
I had a weak moment on our honeymoon in Italy when I decided that I should be making gelato for a living. My enthusiasm for Italian gelato wasn't surprising to anyone. I'd done extensive research, made lists, had Sam map out cities in terms of where the best gelaterias were. I took notes and photos and hemmed and hawed over flavor choices: Sicilian Pistachio! Chestnut Honey! Sweet Cheese, Almond and Fig! In truth, on that particular trip, I cared far more about treats, sunshine, and cobblestone walks than I cared about famous landmarks or tourist attractions, often leaving the camera back at the hotel in favor of my small black notebook which housed detailed jottings on dessert discoveries in each city we visited. Our friends Matteo and Jessica happened to be in Naples on the one night we were there, and we all went out for pizza together followed by a long stroll around the city. At some point the conversation turned to gelato (as it's bound to) and Matteo brought up the famous school in Bologna where many renowned gelato artisans study. My wheels were spinning. Maybe we should visit Bologna. I should see this school! I should talk to these students! I could make Sicilian Pistachio; Chestnut Honey; and Sweet Cheese, Almond and Fig each and every day of our lives. Or at the very least, travel to Bologna to learn how and then come back to Seattle to take our Northwest city by storm. Well here we are six months later, back to reality, and the impetus to pack up my bags and head for Bologna has subsided for the time being ... but not the unwavering gusto to sample. That part will always be with me. It's been awhile since I mixed up a batch of ice cream at home, but the other day a beautiful new cookbook landed on my doorstep and I flipped right to a recipe for dark chocolate sorbet with toasty, salty almonds. I didn't need much convincing.