I am enamored with raw zucchini. I love the stuff, why hide it? Some people bake it into bread, (which is one of my favorite things to eat, no doubt) some into cookies. I haven’t seen a zucchini ice cream, but I have seen it crystalized as a cake topper. If you are sick of summer squash, there are limitless ways of serving it secretly… tucking it neatly into something else and feeding it to folks without saying so. Or candying it and brandishing it as ribbons and bows on a frosting-wrapped cake.

I find that the secret to eating it unabashedly uncooked is slicing it thin. If you get it with a mandoline, or cut it into tiny matchsticks, zucchini absorbs the flavor of what you put with it and isn’t overpowering. In my case, it most often becomes a delightfully crunchy vehicle for Parrano cheese and toasted pine nuts. If you haven’t tried Parrano cheese, brace yourself: it is the slickest baby Parmesan and Gouda could have—smooth, sweet, salty, slightly sharp. Yes, it really is all of those things.

This can be served with lettuce or without, although I find that a bed of greens acts as a nice cradle for drippy vinaigrette. Lettuce helps in preventing a plate from puddle-ing up. I could see this sliced zucchini served on top of cold quinoa or wild rice, in which case the leaves would be unnecessary.

Also- somewhere during my summer squash romance, Christopher and I packed up our entire house and moved it from Texas to Vermont. (The zucchini is equally good in both places, although I feel like I’ve cheated the seasons: summer squash, tomatoes, corn and other hot-weather wonders started appearing in May down south, while they’re just cresting here.) This picture was taken as one of our last lonestar meals, and the camera is at large, so please use your imagination to picture how beautiful this salad can be. Now that I’m settled, there’s more zucchini to come.

Raw Zucchini Salad with Parrano and Toasted Pine Nuts

Serves 2 as a generous appetizer, 4 as a side-dish

For the Dressing

Combine 2 teaspoons of dijon mustard with 6 tablespoons of champagne or white vinegar.

Add 2 teaspoons of honey, a dash of salt and a crack of pepper.

Add 1 tablespoon of finely chopped parsley.

Stir to combine.

Slowly, drizzle in ¾ c of olive oil until emulsified.

Set aside. (You will likely have enough for tomorrow.)

For the Zucchini

Slice 1 zucchini and 1 summer squash into think strips, preferably with a mandoline. Cut into 3” pieces.

In a medium bowl, pour enough dressing over the zucchini to coat.

Let this marinate in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.

Just before serving, thinly slice ½ c Parrano cheese and toast ½ c pine nuts.

If using lettuce, coat greens lightly in dressing in your serving bowl.

In their bowl, toss zucchini and summer squash with cheese.

Place zucchini in a serving dish, (possibly over greens) and garnish with toasted pine nuts.

I am a big fan of blending my gazpacho, although I also like it chopped. It depends on the goal: if avocado and lots of herbs or a green pepper are part of the plan, then pureeing is not the strategy, except when I dine alone. I don’t mind eating brownish soup. (Shhh.)

But tonight I had mostly red in my kitchen, and a puree was ideal. (Although I didn’t have any strawberries or cantaloupe on hand, I would likely have added some for the sweetness–a little fruit in gazpacho is really subtle and delicious.) When I’m making a blended batch, I reserve some of the chopped vegetables for  texture, and usually add some other garnish–sometimes shrimp, crab or avocado. I’ve never considered a floating crostini…that would feel too fussy for this kind of edible spontaneity.

Tonight I had some sweet, jumbo lump crab, to which no mollusk or crustacean compares.

**Note: this soup is best if it has time to sit: I recommend making it in the afternoon (or a day before) and blending once more just before adding garnishes and serving.

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Today’s Gazpacho

Generously serves 2

3  medium tomatoes, cored and rough chopped

1 large, red pepper, cubed

1 medium, yellow pepper, cubed

1/2 red onion, diced

1 large cucumber, peeled, seeded and cubed

1 jalepeño pepper, diced (optional)

Juice of 1 lemon

Generous bunch of fresh basil

Olive oil, s & p

1/2 c jumbo lump crab

—

Blend the vegetables, reserving about 1/2 cup to mix into the puree just before serving.

Add jalepeño in parts, to taste.

Add a few leaves of basil, and more if you’re happy with the taste and color.

Drizzle olive oil into the puree, and add lemon, salt and pepper to taste.

Just before serving, chiffonade remaining basil and garnish bowls with chopped veggies and jumbo lump crab.

Go Huskies.

Texas Guacamole

Serves 4

1 large shallot, chopped

1 medium, red onion, diced, divided

1 jalepeno pepper, finely diced

1 large, red tomato, diced

2 jumbo avocados (or 4 small)

1/2 c chopped cilantro

salt and pepper to taste

olive oil

lemon juice

–
Saute the shallot and 1/2 of the onion in olive oil until soft and transluscent. Set aside to cool.

Place chopped onion, tomato, pepper and cilantro in a bowl and mix.

In a separate bowl, mash avocados with hands until smooth.

Combine avocado, vegetable mixture, cooled shallots, lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste.

Serve immediately, I like mine with plantain chips.

Fizzy Greyhound

Serves 1

1 oz vodka (maybe more)

3/4 c grapefruit juice

1/4 c soda water

ice

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Combine

Thank you, citrus, for gleaming through these gray winter months. I’ve got an appointment to have my teeth cleaned soon, and I’m sure my dentist will admonish me for my very much eroded enamel, but what can I say? A grapefruit a day keeps the blues away. It certainly has for me. Scurvy will wreak no havoc on this body—I’ve eaten at least two citrus fruits each day since Christmas, without fail. And when I’m working my way through a box of Clementines, that number jumps to at least four.

I love the way my hands smell after a meal punctuated by citrus: I feel instantly awake, clean, refreshed. Mostly I eat it plain, peeled and pulled apart, segment by segment. But sometimes, when I’m in the mood to light candles, buy flowers and treat myself right, I’ll prepare myself a proper platter, presented with care and perhaps a few herbs.

This dish was inspired once again by Mark Bittman, who I am coming to like, more and more, despite the absence of a carrot cake recipe in his tome, “How to Cook EVERYTHING.” (I’m sorry Mark, but a carrot cake is definitely SOMETHING. Note to self: Never write a cookbook that sets such high expectations.)  He wrote about a citrus salad a few weeks ago in the Times, and I thought it was a nice idea: a good start to a lunch that might include some fine Greek yogurt drizzled with honey and cinnamon—which is often how I take my grapefruit, actually. It also makes a fine dessert, finished with a hunk of gingered dark chocolate. But then again, doesn’t everything end well with gingered dark chocolate?

On a recent Saturday afternoon after the farmer’s market, I decided to try my own rendition of Bittman’s sweet salad, putting to use some beautiful Texas-grown grapefruits and oranges. I had dill lying about and some walnuts and honey, so I candied the nuts and sprinkled some fine sprigs across the top of the sliced salad for garnish. A bit of green really adds to the look and the sweet, salty crunch of the walnuts is well worth the effort it takes to dress them up a little.

There is something to be said for eating with the eyes: other than the occasional grapefruit and avocado salad, I’ve rarely taken the time ‘present’ a grapefruit to myself, but oh did its careful slices look lovely when pricked with the tines of a silver fork. The little ritual made my Saturday afternoon something special: farm-to-table at its prettiest and most diginified. Get it while winter lasts…

Citrus Salad with Candied Walnuts and Dill

Serves 1

1 grapefruit
1 orange (try this with clementines, blood oranges or tangerines, also)
¼ c chopped walnuts (hazelnuts could be good…)
2 T honey, divided
2 T olive oil, divided
1 t white or red wine vinegar
½ tsp salt
dill for garnish (mint would work well also)

Prepare the dressing:

Mix honey and vinegar in a small bowl. Whisk in olive oil in a slow stream, until emulsified. Set aside.

Prepare the walnuts:

Place 1 T olive oil and 1 T honey in a sauté pan until hot.

Add walnuts and stir to coat.

Cook until brown, (this happens quickly) then remove from heat and set aside.

Prepare the salad:

Gently slice the rinds from the citrus fruits, and carefully slice into ¼” segments.

Arrange on a plate and drizzle with dressing.

Sprinkle with herbs and nuts and serve immediately.

The first time my mother made it this year (it’s most satisfying in the cold), Christopher and I were en route from a late flight for Thanksgiving. We debated grabbing something from the new–very culinary–Kennedy Jet Blue terminal, but were convinced to hold off. When we finally arrived at home, it was 10:30 and we were numb with hunger. I didn’t tell Christopher what was waiting: he doesn’t like sweet vegetables and I was sure he’d envision some purée of maple syrup, apples and cinnamon, which seem to be prominent ingredients in most squash soups. Fortunately, the deep curry and herbs disguise the sugar and starch typical of so many root vegetables. This soup is subtly spiced, rich from a ham-hock and fit for those with a hankering for savory food. In fact, if it weren’t so orange, you might not even recognize its main ingredient.

On another note, Christopher and I are going to Paris tomorrow. Last night I started reading Paris Was Ours and woke myself up with excitement at 3:30am. Fortunately, I had a generous nap, but I haven’t been so excited for a trip in as long as I can remember. I will be heading to E. Dehillerin, on the recommendation of Christopher’s grandmother. Her suggestion reminded me of a quote I recently read  by Florence King: “A house without a grandmother is like an egg without salt.” I can’t wait to eat hardboiled eggs in little french cups with little french spoons. Copper pots aren’t bad either… neither are croissantes, the Musée d’Orsay, Shakespeare and Company or the smell of wooden cathedral pews, smoothed through years of use.

Curried Squash Soup

Adapted (by memory) from Green on Greens

1 medium-sized butter nut squash, cubed

2 T butter

5 scallions, thinly sliced

1 green pepper, diced

1 red pepper, diced

2-3 garlic cloves, chopped (depending on their size and your taste)

1 ham-hock (1/4 lb of salt pork could also work–add it at the beginning with less butter)

2 qts chicken broth

1/2 c chopped basil

1/4 c chopped parsley

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Melt the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet until brown and bubbling.

Add the scallions and peppers and sauté until soft, about 7 minutes.

Add garlic and squash and sauté a few minutes more, just until garlic begins to brown.

Add chicken stock and ham hock and bring to a boil.

Lower the heat and cook until squash softens, 45 minutes.

Add herbs and cook another 5 minutes.

Blends, or pass through a food mill, being careful not to cause any explosions.

Serve with a small spoonful of crème fraîche or additional herbs.

This soup is nothing to mess with. It is loaded with vitamins, antioxidants, immune-enhancers and most importantly, tons of flavor. If I were a germ, I’d scoot right out of my host body and prey upon someone else. So make sure your friends have batches on hand.

This particular carrot ginger soup came to me from the pages of Candle Café Cookbook, one of my favorite vegetarian cooking resources from one of my favorite vegetarian eating resources, the Candle Café in New York. I used to live around the corner and went there whenever I felt the urged to be elixed.

Have you ever felt so energized by a meal that it literally feels as though all of the nutrition you just ate went straight into your bloodstream? That is how I feel when I eat a great, vegetarian meal. That is how I feel when I eat at Candle Café… and now, that I how I feel when I make their recipes at home.

Imagine my excitement when I found that I could buy the Candle Café cookbook and get that fix whenever I pleased? Elated, that’s how… as though some wonderful adrenal force was coursing through my veins. Some people take drugs; I take carrot soup.

I could go on and on about the recipes in that cookbook. Unlike so many restaurants, which seem to have trouble paring their industrial sized recipes down to the scale of a domestic kitchen, the folks at Candle Café make it possible for you to actually recreate their meals. Hold on, I feel a rush coming on.

I garnished this soup with another recipe (adapted slightly) from the book—a miso tahini dipping sauce with shaved carrots and ginger. It balanced the sweetness of the carrot puree with its rich, salty sesame flavor. I added a cold dollop of it onto the warm soup, and I must say, the temperature contrast was really dynamic and heightened the complementary flavors. If you don’t want to get sick, but you do want to get high… make this soup.

Velvety Carrot and Ginger Soup

From Candle Café Cookbook

Serves 4-6

1 Tbsp olive oil
3 medium onions, peeled and chopped
5 cups of vegetable broth
6 large carrots, peeled and chopped
3 tablespoons finely grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground coriander
pinch of cayenne
sea sat and freshly ground pepper, to taste

In a large, heavy bottomed stockpot, heat olive oil. Add onions and sauté for about 7 minutes, or until golden.

Add the broth, a cup of water, the carrots and 2 tbsp of ginger. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer, partially covered, for about 20 minutes, or until carrots are tender.

Remove pot from heat and cool for about an hour (if you don’t have an hour, be sure to pure the soup in small batches to prevent heat-related blender accidents…)

Pure the soup in a food processor or blender. Add the remaining ginger, cinnamon and coriander and blend again until very smooth. Serve warm or cold with a dollop of miso tahini dipping sauce and chopped scallions or chives.

Miso Tahini Dipping Sauce

1 c sweet, white miso
1 c water
1 c grated carrot
1 tbsp grated fresh ginger
3 tbsp tahini

Pure miso and water in a blender or food processor. Whisk in tahini until incorporated. Mix in carrots and ginger. Store refrigerated up to 1 week.

It’s still in the upper 80s here in Houston and this is hardest time for me in Texas. July is tough, too, but at least then I know what to expect. I’ve been here for four falls now, but even if I stayed here forever, I’d always ache a bit in October. I’m thinking of what it’s like where I’m from. Right now, the geese fly, the air turns smoky and the red leaves pinwheel onto crackling grass. It will get cooler here in a month or two, but that happens fast. The leaves fall all at once, and the cold rain comes. I look forward to rubber boots and woolen sweaters, but I wish I could light a fire today and feel electrified by the air.

So I pretend. Last night I baked some butternut squash and apples with cinnamon, closed my eyes and imagined the sound of a distant gaggle honk. But the gentle hum of the AC kicked in and ended my reverie. No matter. I can still get McIntosh apples and beautiful golden squash, though not at the farmer’s market. That said, the local arugula is mighty fine, and the Houston honey was just right to dress it. The best part about this meal was that I had enough light to photograph it before it hit the table… back home, it was already dark.

Roasted Butternut Squash with Apples, Arugula and Honey Mustard Vinaigrette

Serves 4

(Please excuse the commentary…)

2 apples, sliced about ½” thick–I like McIntosh

2 c butternut squash, sliced about ½“

1 t cinnamon

4 c arugula

2 T olive oil, plus more for roasting vegetables

1 t mustard

2 t local honey

3 t apple cider vinegar

¼ c roasted nuts or pumpkin seeds

salt and pepper

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Toss squash in a bit of olive oil and place on baking sheet, leaving space between each slice. Sprinkle with salt and cinnamon.

(You may have to bake squash in batches: I prefer my squash slightly crisp, and if you load too many pieces onto a baking sheet at once, they steam.)

Roast at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes.

(I don’t pre-heat the oven when I’m roasting vegetables.)

Flip squash and add apples to the oven, sprinkling with cinnamon.

Roast an additional 15 minutes, checking squash occasionally.

(It can be hard to cut squash, so if your slices aren’t all the same size, some will roast faster than others. Check on the squash regularly and remove any cooked slices.)

In the meantime, place mustard, honey and vinegar in a small bowl and blend.

Whisk in olive oil until emulsified.

Just before serving, toss arugula with dressing.

Arrange squash and apples over salad, sprinkle with nuts and serve.

What can you do with a zucchini to make it appealing seventy-five days in a row? Or really, what can’t you do? I sauté with a variety of sauces and different combinations of onion, shallot, garlic and herb. I grill, I roast. Have you tried Barbara Kingsolver’s chocolate chip cookies with zucchini? The produce is virtually inscrutable except for the telltale strips of bright green skin woven through the crumbs. Grated zucchini baked into bread adds moisture and texture and goes especially well with almond extract and slivered almonds. Trust me.

It will be a sad day for me when summer squash stops appearing. It’s still a month away, here in warm-weather Houston, but with all I’ve said, you can imagine that my diet will change pretty drastically when that time comes.I might also add, however, that sometimes I get a little over-eager. Maybe I don’t need to buy five summer squash and five zucchini at a time. Sometimes I use them all very quickly—especially when I eat at home every night—but sometimes they don’t go so fast, in which case, soup is the best remedy.

This curried zucchini soup came courtesy of one of Martha Stewart’s many publications. I have a friend who gives me hand-me-downs of her magazines, which I peruse over dinner. (Somehow eating always seems like the ideal time to start thinking about eating again.) A few nights ago I came across this recipe, which appealed to me for several reasons. First, I had bought more zucchini than I could comfortably fit inside me in the near-term. Second, I like to make soups that can be served hot or cold. I never know what I’ll be in the mood for at the end of the day.

I’ve garnished this a few ways since making it, including with roasted peppitos, avocado slices and a tablespoon of queso fresco. I’ve also eaten it both hot and cold, strained and chunky. It holds up beautifully any way you serve it, and I have to say, nothing accompanies this soup better than a glass of very cold, very dry white wine. Spicy curry gets cut all the right ways by Sauvignon Blanc, especially the 2007 Cade, which is my favorite, at least while our supply lasts. It may be that wine is the only thing I’ve consumed more of this summer than zucchini. Sad as I am to see this combination go, I look forward to the next iteration… acorn squash and pinot noir.

Curried Zucchini Soup

Serves 4

Adapted from Martha Stewart

1 T olive oil

1 medium onion, chopped

2 t Coarse salt (or to taste)

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 t curry powder

4 c vegetable broth

3 medium zucchini (or a combo of zucchini and summer squash) sliced 1” thick

1 baking potato, peeled and cut into 1” pieces

Avocado and cilantro for garnish

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Heat oil in a large saucepan.

Add onion and 1 salt and cook until soft, about 5 minutes over medium heat.

Add garlic and curry powder and cook about a minute more, stirring occasionally.

Add zucchini, potato, and 4 cups vegetable broth.

Bring to a boil; reduce heat, and simmer until vegetables are tender, 10 to 15 minutes.

In batches, puree soup until smooth.

Serve hot, or let cool, and refrigerate in an airtight container until chilled.

Garnish with avocado slices and cilantro.

If I end my life feeling like a crimson bell pepper, I know I will have lived to height of my sweetness. I plan to be a very delicious old woman. But here the simile ends, because I cannot compare my life so far to that of a green pepper. I love my life—it has already been ripe, juicy, satisfying. Green peppers, on the other hand, are repulsive. I find them entirely too bitter to eat raw, although I might eat one roasted-if the alternative were starvation. In fact, green peppers may be the one and only food I have a genuine distaste for based on flavor and not on principles. (Although I don’t make a habit of eating babies, I’d be a liar if I told you my mouth didn’t water at the scent of roasting lamb…)

Where summer is concerned, I can bring back my literary device. We are heading out of this sweet time, but just before we do, the Earth seems to offer up her very best—her reddest peppers. I can’t eat nearly as many as I can procure in the next few weeks, but I can convert a good many into soup to enjoy during colder months, where the lushness of a bell pepper can only be imported—flown from timeless, far away lands, like California.

This recipe actually came to me from a spa in the Golden State, where I’m sure they never suffer a dearth of fresh produce. It’s intended to be rather light, and I like it the way it is. If you prefer more depth to your soup, the coconut milk is easily substituted with ½ cup of cream. I have stored away a few batches, and look forward to revisiting the taste of early September when the days are very dark and I’ve gotten tired of sweet potatoes. I may polish it off sooner than that, though, as it’s absolutely delicious chilled and served with sliced avocado, or just a few sprigs of cilantro.

Roasted Red Pepper Soup

4 large red bell peppers

4 large tomatoes

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon all purpose flour

1 large chopped yellow onion

4 cups chicken broth

¾ cup light coconut milk

salt and pepper

garnish of your choice

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Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Coat the peppers and tomatoes with olive oil and place on a baking sheet.

Roast for 20-30 minutes, or until the skin begins to peel and blacken.

Remove peppers and tomatoes and place in a bowl covered with plastic wrap until cool enough to handle.

Peel and roughly chop peppers and tomatoes, being sure to collect their juice in a bowl.

Discard stems and skins.

In a large saucepan, heat remaining olive oil and sauté onion until translucent.

Add tomatoes and peppers and sweat over low heat for 2-3 minutes.

Add flour and stir to coat.

Add chicken broth and coconut milk and simmer for 30 minutes, adding more broth if the soup reduces too much.

Puree in a blender and pass through a sieve or food mill if desired.

Keep warm, or serve chilled, with garnish.

In summers past, it has come with a pinch of sea salt, some parsley, butter and lemon zest. Or grilled with some spiced butter. This summer, I can’t stop making spicy corn salad, which has an incredible balance in its consistency and flavors. It’s wonderful how silky avocado seems beside kernels and cherry tomatoes. If you mix it up thoroughly, the avocado acts like a dressing, which is different from how this recipe is intended, but not at all inferior. In my case, the discovery was a happy accident, and one well worth repeating—although the end result is not as pretty as when the avocado is managed with a gentler touch.

I was first inspired to create this after eating a tomato ‘ceviche,’ at Backstreet Cafe in Houston. The name seemed odd, given how often tomatoes are served raw, but the dish was spot-on: spicy, crunchy, smooth, salty and slightly sweet. I’m always so happy to find recipes that highlight the best of summer while requiring minimal effort—maybe I should call this one corn ceviche and be bold enough to serve the kernels raw.

Spicy Corn Salad

Serves 4

4 ears of fresh corn, kernels sliced from the cob
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
½ cup cilantro, chopped
1 jalepeno, diced
2 green onions, chopped
1 small avocado
1 T olive oil
juice of 2 limes, divided
salt and pepper

Sauté corn in olive oil until just softened, about 2 minutes.
In a large bowl, toss corn, tomatoes, cilantro and green onions and a bit of lime juice (this can be done ahead).
Just before serving, slice avocado into 1” pieces and gently toss into salad, adding remaining lime juice to prevent browning.
Season with salt and pepper and serve.