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.

These have been my salad days.

From early April until now, as the lettuce season ends. No lunch or dinner (and rarely a breakfast) is complete without leafy greens. A bed of lettuce is the perfect way to heap together all of the motley items you' d like to eat, but can' t always justify putting together any other way. Fruits, vegetables, nuts, fish, leftover pasta—can all be tossed together and camouflaged between the leaves of a Boston Bibb, a loose mix of mesclun, or a crunchy mass of Romaine.

Gone are the days of childhood picnics, when each food group had to be carefully separated by at least an inch of white space on the plate. Ketchup could never touch the lettuce; broccoli was not allowed near the macaroni and cheese. Now, I have to camouflage how many ingredients I mix together, afraid that even adventurous eaters will look askance at my zany combinations.

Thank you lettuce, for making my surreptitious eating possible. I sure will miss the heads I' ve bought straight from the ground in these first months of spring. My fridge is full of more leaves than I can possibly eat before they begin to wilt. I' ll have to share or sauté. But who could blame me when I heard these words at Saturday' s market, “Yep, get ‘em while you can. This is the last batch of lettuce for the season.”Shakespeare must have been talking about the delicate greenery of April and May when he invented the term that has defined the last few weeks of my life at the local table.

(Other favorites on the wane.)

(the “Urban Farmer”)

We ate at home on Saturday night and had to supplement our local veggie selection with some store-bought peppers from Mexico, and some bacon from a far away hog farm. Otherwise, the venison we grilled was killed here in Texas (by a sharp-shooting guest), the carrots were from the self-proclaimed urban farmer pictured above –who also happens to be the purveyor of the strawberries I love so well–and the Portobellos, tomatoes and lettuce for the salad all came from Mid-town.

It was a grand evening, if slightly barbaric for the leftover sausages and venison shanks that are making my fridge smell like the ice box in “Little House on the Prairie.”

Learn more about how to dress your table with sustainable eats from findingDulcinea’s Web Guide to Socially Responsible Food. It’s chock full of good resources, no matter where you reside, or what food rules you wish to abide. By.