As a brief follow-up to the previous Watermelon Salad post, I thought that I would make clear two points: 1) The ease of substitutions and the liberalness that one can take and 2) How truly miserable this swampy heat makes me.
I had intended to make the Watermelon Salad over the weekend, and I had all ingredients on hand, save the watermelon and feta cheese, which would only require a 10 minute walk to my neighborhood Whole Foods, or, seeing as how I was feeling particularly lazy, a 90 second stroll down to Deluca’s on the corner of Beacon and Charles.
I procrastinated, vacillating between audibly moaning at the mercilessness of the heat and amping myself up for the epic journey down to the next block. In the end, laziness triumphed, and I made do with what I had in the house. The substitutions went as follows:
Maine Strawberries for Watermelon
Manchego Cheese for Feta Cheese
Toasted Hazelnuts for Olives
Balsamic Vinegar for Lime Juice
Omitted Onion
Everything else, namely the parsley, basil, olive oil, and salt & pepper remained the same. I suppose the two rules of thumb are: 1) Keep the ingredients similar in make-up (juicy fruit for juicy fruit, acidic element for acidic element, etc.) and 2) Make sure the flavors agree. I had olives, but didn’t feel that they would go well with strawberries, whereas hazelnuts and strawberries is one of my favorite combinations. The “official” recipe is below.
Strawberry Hazelnut Salad
Bunch of parsley, rough chop
Bunch of basil, rough chop
1 Cup Strawberries (local and in-season is infinitely tastier, as these Maine strawberries proved), cut in half
1/4 Cup Hazelnuts, toasted and rough chop
1/4 Cup Manchego Cheese (feel free to substitute just about any semi-soft-to-hard cheese)
2 Tbls. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2 Tbls. Balsamic Vinegar
Salt & Pepper to taste
Toast the hazelnuts; I generally say that 200° for 5 minutes will do, but I have the most freakishly unreliable toaster-oven known to man, and routinely employ the “5-sense rule”, which is, to use your senses, as opposed to specific instructions in your cooking. Everyone’s appliances run differently, and using a little common sense (“Hmmm, it smells like something’s burning, but it still has 10 minutes to cook”) can go a long way to improving the end result. In the case of toasting nuts (which I highly and frequently recommend, as it exponentially ups the flavor output), I put my toaster oven on a low-ish setting (150° to 200°) and wait until I can JUST smell the toastiness, while standing little more than an arm’s length away. As soon as you smell it, turn the oven off, open the door, and dump the nuts off the tray so that they can begin to cool.
Meanwhile, combine the chopped parsley, basil, strawberries, and cheese in a bowl and toss well. Once your nuts are room temperature (I wouldn’t toss them in prematurely, as the heat would likely melt the cheese and wilt the greens), toss them in. Mix your olive oil and balsamic vinegar together (note: I like a heavier vinegar side on my dressing, which is the reason for the 1:1 ratio, but feel free to adjust according to your taste; it would be more common to see more olive oil) and pour on top of the salad. Add salt and pepper to taste. Enjoy!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
It's TOO DAMN HOT!
It is TOO DAMN HOT!
I hate the heat, I hate humidity, and the past two weeks have been my version of Hell. I don’t recall crossing the river Styx, have never met or received a boat ride from anyone named Charon, but day after day I feel as though I’m in Hades. Everything is muggy, mossy, and disgusting, and I almost lose my appetite completely in this weather. Almost.
There is one thing that I love to make in the midst of the summer heat – it’s sweet, salty, and juicy – the perfect dish to shore up the nutrients and liquid that we sweat out. It also happens to be delicious, as was proved to me by my darling friend, Doug, who routinely finds my cooking mediocre at best, but has commented approvingly of this one dish for its tastiness and uniqueness frequently. If this meat-and-potatoes-guy takes a liking to a salad (a pink salad, nonetheless), then I’ll consider it an easily universal hit.
The Watermelon Salad is part leafy-green, part salty tanginess, and part juicy watermelon. None of the ingredients, apart from the watermelon, are requisite or above substitution (even the watermelon could probably be passed over for some cantelope or honey dew in a pinch), and the quantities and presentation can be made your own. For mine, I like to really rough chop everything – asymmetry and tumbled-togetherness sort of ups the appeal, but you can make it to your individual taste.
1 Watermelon, rough chopped
6-8 oz. Feta cheese, rough chopped
6 oz. Black or Kalamata Olives
Big bunch Parsley, rough chopped
Bunch of Mint, rough chopped
1/2 Cup Basil, rough chopped
1 Red Onion
Juice from 1 Lime
Olive Oil
Salt & Pepper
Slice your red onion into thin half moon shapes (slice in half, and then slice down perpendicularly to the layers). Put into a bowl with the lime juice; the acidity of the lime juice neutralizes the sting of the onions, leaving a crisp and tangy flavor, without the face-scrunching sourness.
Toss your chopped watermelon, feta, parsley, mint, and basil into the big serving bowl. Pour your olives with just a bit of their olive juice on top, and, after soaking for 5-10 minutes, add your lime juice and onion. Drizzle a good amount of extra virgin olive oil on the top – just enough to coat, but not so much that there’s a puddle on the bottom of your dish. Add salt and pepper to taste.
This salad is perfect for summer dinner parties. The vibrant colors look beautiful plated, it’s attention-grabbing, and competes with or complements nicely a big hunk of meat from the grill.
I hate the heat, I hate humidity, and the past two weeks have been my version of Hell. I don’t recall crossing the river Styx, have never met or received a boat ride from anyone named Charon, but day after day I feel as though I’m in Hades. Everything is muggy, mossy, and disgusting, and I almost lose my appetite completely in this weather. Almost.
There is one thing that I love to make in the midst of the summer heat – it’s sweet, salty, and juicy – the perfect dish to shore up the nutrients and liquid that we sweat out. It also happens to be delicious, as was proved to me by my darling friend, Doug, who routinely finds my cooking mediocre at best, but has commented approvingly of this one dish for its tastiness and uniqueness frequently. If this meat-and-potatoes-guy takes a liking to a salad (a pink salad, nonetheless), then I’ll consider it an easily universal hit.
The Watermelon Salad is part leafy-green, part salty tanginess, and part juicy watermelon. None of the ingredients, apart from the watermelon, are requisite or above substitution (even the watermelon could probably be passed over for some cantelope or honey dew in a pinch), and the quantities and presentation can be made your own. For mine, I like to really rough chop everything – asymmetry and tumbled-togetherness sort of ups the appeal, but you can make it to your individual taste.
1 Watermelon, rough chopped
6-8 oz. Feta cheese, rough chopped
6 oz. Black or Kalamata Olives
Big bunch Parsley, rough chopped
Bunch of Mint, rough chopped
1/2 Cup Basil, rough chopped
1 Red Onion
Juice from 1 Lime
Olive Oil
Salt & Pepper
Slice your red onion into thin half moon shapes (slice in half, and then slice down perpendicularly to the layers). Put into a bowl with the lime juice; the acidity of the lime juice neutralizes the sting of the onions, leaving a crisp and tangy flavor, without the face-scrunching sourness.
Toss your chopped watermelon, feta, parsley, mint, and basil into the big serving bowl. Pour your olives with just a bit of their olive juice on top, and, after soaking for 5-10 minutes, add your lime juice and onion. Drizzle a good amount of extra virgin olive oil on the top – just enough to coat, but not so much that there’s a puddle on the bottom of your dish. Add salt and pepper to taste.
This salad is perfect for summer dinner parties. The vibrant colors look beautiful plated, it’s attention-grabbing, and competes with or complements nicely a big hunk of meat from the grill.
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