green bean, tomato and corn salad with serrano vinaigrette

There's a flood of summer produce at the farmers markets this week: peaches, heirloom tomatoes, sweet corn, zucchini of every stripe and color! It’s the arrival of the corn and tomatoes though that signals the peak of summer for me; I grew up in corn country and summer dinners often involved corn on the cob served with a thick pat of butter and salted slabs of tomato from my grandma’s garden.

For all the market treasures they bring, these high summer days also breed a certain anxiety in me. So glorious and so fleeting, the month of August kicks my garden variety FOMO into high gear. What if I don't make bbq ribs? Or see an outdoor movie?! Or go on a picnic?!? I haven't taken a single swim all season and time is running out!!!

Of course, I realize that part of this is simply a reaction to the stress of being an adult with adult responsibilities. (Hello, mortgage!) And part of it is my own unique strain of anxiety. But a good part of this impulse to maximize summer fun comes from the child-like spirit buried (more or less deeply) within us all. 

The rational part of me says I should spend my days in front of my camera/computer/phone/stove developing recipes, shooting for the blog and working on the logistics for my next culinary retreat. The 6-year-old version of me wants to go barefoot all day and eat ice cream cones that drip down my arm in the heat and spend hours splashing around at the pool. 

As much as I sometimes want to ignore that 6-year-old version of me, I think it's important to be reminded that summer only comes once a year and that play is an essential part of creativity and yes, even productivity.

So this week I have a recipe that features my favorite summer produce and is so easy to make it will leave you plenty of time for summer frolicking.

Which is precisely what I intend to do over the next four weeks. This Saturday I’m hosting a pop-up dinner with my friend Kyle (which is essentially a glorified backyard barbeque). Beau and I just booked a spur-of-the-moment glamping weekend on a farm outside Seattle. The week after that, I’ll be camping with my momma on Orcas Island. In between, I plan on taking a dip in Lake Washington, eating ice-cold slices of watermelon, working on my nap game, finishing another novel and dreaming up a super-sexy popsicle flavor combination for hot days.

I've decided to work a little less and play a little more. Which is what the month of August, with all it's sweet produce and bright sunshine was made for.

I think the 6-year-old me would approve.

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Green Bean, Tomato and Corn Salad with Serrano Vinaigrette

• 1 lb tender green beans, stemmed
• Kosher or sea salt, to taste
• 2 ears sweet corn, shucked
• 1 cup cherry tomatoes
• 2 tablespoons lime juice
• 2 tablespoons champagne or white wine vinegar
• 1/4 cup finely minced shallot
• 1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1 serrano chile (or to taste), very thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup chopped or sliced basil, cilantro or mint (or a mix)
• 1/4 cup feta cheese, crumbled (optional)

*Notes: Having grown up in corn country, I am admittedly something of a corn snob. But please, please, please use the freshest, sweetest corn you can find for this recipe. It makes all the difference. Corn starts converting its sugars to starch as soon as it's picked, so freshness is key. I try to buy corn at the farmers market that was picked that morning (ask your farmer). I also don't hesitate to pull back the husk and silk to see how fresh the corn is. You want tight, shiny kernels with no mushy or brown spots. I sometimes even pop a kernel off the cob and taste it to see how sweet the corn is. 

- The green beans and corn can be prepared a day in advance. 

- The vinaigrette will keep, covered and refrigerated for a day or so. It will keep a few days longer if you don’t add the serranos until you dress the salad.

Bring a large pot of generously salted water to the boil. While the water is heating, prepare an ice bath by filling a large bowl with ice and water. 
 
When the water comes to the boil, add the green beans and cook until crisp-tender. (The precise time will vary depending on the size of your beans.) Remove the beans from the water with tongs or a slotted spoons and transfer to the ice bath. When beans are completely cooled, remove them from the ice bath and lay them out on a a kitchen towel to dry.

While the beans are cooking, cut the corn from the cobs and set aside. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half and set aside.

To make the vinaigrette, combine the lime juice, vinegar, shallot, thyme and a generous pinch of salt in a medium bowl. Gradually whisk in the olive oil. Add the serrano; taste and adjust seasonings as necessary.

To assemble the salad, combine the green beans, corn, tomatoes and half the remaining herbs in a large bowl. Dress with the vinaigrette to taste. Transfer to a serving platter and top with the rest of the herbs and the feta (if using). 

Makes 4-6 servings.

Vinaigrette recipe adapted from Hugh Acheson

peach-raspberry pie

At 6:42 Monday evening I could be found standing on my (somewhat precarious) kitchen table in my pajamas photographing a slice of pie. This slice, to be precise:

The past weeks have been a bit frenzied around here and so I had decided to forgo my usual routine of putting on real clothing, applying makeup and perhaps even showering that day. (Who can keep track of such details?) Which is why, frizzy-haired and bra-less, I hesitated for a long moment before answering the door when I heard a knock. 

I poked my head cautiously around the door to find...our neighbor Lindsay. She and her boyfriend had just returned from Vashon Island with an abundance of oysters. And did we want to come over and have some? 

Every fiber of my un-scrubbed being wanted to say no. The light was changing quickly and I needed to shoot this pie for the blog. Beau was off running errands so I’d be on my own making small talk with neighbors I don’t know very well (an introvert’s nightmare). I’d be forced to emerge from my state of unkempt comfort and make myself presentable to the world. 

But a tiny piece of me thought: Why not? You’re tired of working anyway. Plus, oysters! I told Lindsay I’d finish up my shoot and be right over. 

I’m not sure if it’s because we’re having a heatwave. (Yes, temperatures above 80°F constitute a heatwave in Seattle. Don’t laugh.) Or because I’ve logged a lot of hours on various projects in the past weeks. Or because I figured our neighbors’ kitchen window looks right into our house and so they’re probably going to see me in my pyjamas many, many times in the coming years. But I decided I couldn’t be bothered to change out of my PJs for a trip across the lawn. I did, however, wrangle a little of the frizz out of my curls and put on a bra. I slid on a pair of flip-flops for good measure and headed out the door. 

Sitting on Mark and Lindsay’s front porch slurping briny oysters out of their shells turned out to be the most relaxing, carefree evening I’ve spent in ages. Beau showed up at some point. Mark poured us several glasses of a beautiful rosé. We learned about our neighbors’ jobs and hobbies and favorite restaurants in town. We discovered that Mark assembled a traditional Italian pizza oven at his family’s house on Vashon that we might one day be able to help put to good use. They informed us that we definitely shouldn’t miss the upcoming block party in our street. And that there are so many fruit trees in our neighborhood because it was once an orchard. 

The next day, I took over a couple slices of pie to thank Mark and Lindsay for their hospitality. I would have baked this pie regardless, because it’s summer and summer = pie. But after I dropped it off, I felt extremely grateful to be living in a neighborhood that’s as diverse and neighborly as ours. On our multicultural street, people know each other. We wave when walking past or stop to chat about each other’s gardens. We share oysters and pie. In the midst of all the hate and violence that have monopolized headlines in the past months, this feels like a small miracle. And a huge comfort. 

I’m happier than ever that we managed to find our way into a sense of community here on Findlay Street. And that I’ve got so many pies to bake in the summers to come.

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Peach-Raspberry Pie

• 1 recipe flaky pie dough (see below)
• 3 lbs firm-ripe peaches (about 6 large)
• 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice, or to taste
• 2 ½ tablespoons cornstarch, divided
• 9 tablespoons sugar, divided
• ½ teaspoon ground ginger
• Pinch salt
• 8 oz raspberries (about 2 cups)

Flaky Pie Dough

• 1 lb + 2 oz (4 cups) all-purpose flour

• 2 tablespoons sugar

• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

• 8 oz (2 sticks) butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces and chilled

• 5 oz (1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons) lard, cut into 1/2-inch pieces and chilled

• 2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar

• 3/4 cup cold water

• 3 tablespoons cream or milk (or a whole egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water), to glaze

• 1-2 tablespoons turbinado, demerara or sanding sugar (regular old sugar will work, too)

*Notes: Peaches can release a lot of juice once you sprinkle sugar on them. If your peaches give off a lot of liquid, you’ll need to pour most of it off before baking to avoid a soggy crust and loose filling.

- Cutting your peaches into large slices (about 1 inch) limits the surface area and also helps limit the amount of liquid they give off.

- Lots of recipes say you need to blanch and peel your peaches. I don’t recommend it. I think it’s fussy and also makes the peaches feel a little slimy. Plus leaving the peels on gives your filling beautiful blush tones.

Prepare the crust according to this recipe.

When you are ready to bake the pie, arrange a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat it to 425°F.  

Cut the peaches into slices about 1-inch thick and place them in a large mixing bowl. Gently toss with the lemon juice and ½ cup of the sugar. Set aside to rest for 20-30 minutes. Pour off the juice from the peaches discarding all of it except for ½ cup. Toss the peaches (and ½ cup juice) with two tablespoons of the cornstarch, the ginger and a pinch of salt. 

Place the raspberries in a medium mixing bowl and toss with the remaining 1 ½ teaspoons of the cornstarch and 1 tablespoon of sugar. 

To fill the pie crust, pour half of the peach slices onto your well-chilled or frozen bottom crust. Arrange half of the raspberries over the peaches. Top with the rest of the peach slices and then the rest of the raspberries. Cover your fruit with your top crust. (Here’s a great tutorial on how to weave a lattice-top crust if you want to go that route.) Trim the edges to overhang by 1/2 inch. Fold the top edges of the lattice inside the bottom crust. Place the filled and topped pie back in the freezer to chill for 15-20 minutes. 

I know, I know. There’s a lot of chilling and freezing and waiting around. But taking the time to par-freeze your pie will keep the crust from slumping in the oven and make sure that lattice turns out gorgeously. :)

Brush the top crust with cream, milk or egg wash and then sprinkle with the turbinado, demerara or sanding sugar. Place the pie on a sheet pan and bake until the crust is lightly browned, about 30 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 350°F and continue baking until the crust is dark golden brown, about 45-60 minutes longer. I like my crust deeply caramelized; if you like yours less dark, feel free to take your pie out earlier.

Remove the pie from the oven and allow it to cool a bit and firm up before slicing. Leftovers keep best covered at room temperature overnight. If you need to keep your pie for more than a day, cover tightly and store in the fridge.
 
Makes 6-8 servings.

P.S. Try to save at least one piece for breakfast the next day. Coffee + pie = breakfast perfection!

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iced horchata lattes

When I was in Paris in May, I decided to explore the city’s burgeoning coffee scene and see what all the fuss is about. I wasn’t expecting to be impressed. (I do live in Seattle, after all.)

Of course, I was proven wrong. (I’m noticing a trend here.)

The highlights of this trip were Fragments, Boot Café, Loustic, Blackburn and L'Arbre à Café. And people, the coffee was amazing. Beautifully roasted. Expertly brewed. There were rich bass notes of caramel, tobacco and plum. Delicate tea-like brews tasting of almond or vanilla or flowers. Bright, fruity coffees zingy with the scent of lemon, peach and mango.

I arrived home jazzed to try new local coffee shops and roasters. Of course, my go-to is the superlative Milstead & Co. in Fremont. I can’t express how much I love those guys. Not only are the baristas some of the nicest, most high-fiving, remember-your-name, ask-about-your-day folks in town. They make a perfect cup of coffee. It was at Milstead that I discovered coffee can taste better without cream. Or sugar. (I come from a long line of add-some-coffee-to-your-cream coffee drinkers, so that’s saying something.)

Anyhoo… I’ve been all over town this summer, drinking coffee at Elm Coffee Roasters and Stumptown and All City Coffee and Analog. And brewing up pitcher after pitcher of cold brew for hot summer days. 

Let’s just say it’s been a very caffeinated summer.

This week, I wanted to try something a little different. Thus were born these iced horchata lattes. For those of you who’ve never tasted horchata, it’s a Mexican drink made from rice (and sometimes almond) milk, cinnamon and sugar. It’s creamy and sweet and delicious on a blazing hot day. It also happens to be a perfect match for iced coffee. But I’ll let you be the judge of that.

So grab your blender and keep your afternoons deliciously caffeinated all summer long!

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Iced Horchata Lattes

• 3/4 cup long-grain white rice
• 1/2 cup almonds
• 3 cinnamon sticks
• 1/4 cup sugar (or to taste)
• Pinch sea salt
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 3 tablespoons heavy cream (optional)
• 4 shots espresso

*Notes: If you want to keep this recipe vegan, just omit the cream.

- For a sugar-free version, heat 1/4 cup xylitol or 3 tablespoons mild honey with 1/4 cup of the horchata base until melted. Cool slightly before stirring into the rest of the base.

- The horchata will keep, covered and refrigerated for 4-5 days.

Place the rice, almonds and cinnamon sticks in the bowl of a blender and pulverize. Add 2 cups of water and blend to combine. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours (and up to 12). 

Strain the mixture through a nut milk bag (I have this one and love it!) or a double layer of cheesecloth placed over a sieve into a medium bowl. Squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Add the sugar, salt, vanilla extract and cream (if using) to the almond-rice milk and whisk until the sugar has dissolved.

To serve: fill an 8-oz glass with ice. Pour a shot of espresso over the ice then top with the horchata. Serve immediately.

Makes 4 lattes.