Archives for category: Summer

Let’s face it. It’s hot here in New York City. Especially if you’re biking around Brooklyn with a helmet and backpack mid-afternoon, like I’ve been doing this weekend. It’s that glorious New York summer brew of humidity and high temperatures and smog and concrete. The only relief is a cold movie theater, a public pool (McCarren Park anyone?), the Rockaways, your shower.

But don’t get me wrong. I love it. I wait all year for these two months of hot sleepless nights and it’s a reason I could never live in San Francisco.

And what do I like to indulge in on these hot summer days? Ice cream. The hard kind, the soft kind, the Italian kind, the Taiwenese ice kind, the kind dispensed from pale yellow food trucks. But one thing I actually hadn’t tried before was making my own. I always wanted to but who could bother. Especially when you can get pints of the best this city offers for around $5. Make your own and you spend that much on just the pint of heavy cream needed to make the custard.

Often, homemade versions of any dish are more expensive than buying it. But I guess that’s not the point. Not for me anyway. I like to make things with my hands, I like to pick things from a garden and eat it twenty minutes later in a dish, and I enjoy the magic of creating something I’ve only ever bought before and then poof make it myself.

I was at my local farmer’s market yesterday morning looking for ice cream inspiration. I considered rhubarb, peach, plum, any number of varieties. But on a hot day I really like mint ice cream. Mint chocolate chip. And then I remembered the large patch of mint growing like a weed in my front yard which I’ve hardly made use of yet this season. So I picked up some milk, some cream, eggs, and then picked two packed cups worth of mint from beyond my stoop. And got down to business. (My mint, and bike, below, and celosia flowers I got from the market.)

One of the things I love about this recipe is it uses only fresh mint, not mint extract. You infuse the milk and cream with just-picked mint and before freezing add chopped bits of chocolate.

Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream
Adapted from David Lebovitz

1 c (250 ml) whole milk
3/4 c (150 g) sugar
2 c (500 ml) heavy cream
pinch of salt
2 c (80 g) packed fresh mint leaves
5 large egg yolks
3/4 c chopped dark chocolate pieces

1. In a medium saucepan warm the milk, sugar, 1 c of cream, salt, and mint. Let it get hot and steamy, then remove from heat, cover, and let sit for one hour so the mint infuses the liquid.

2. After an hour, remove the mint with a strainer, pushing down on it with a spatula to extract as much flavor from it as possible, then discard the mint.

3. Pour the remaining 1 c of cream into a large bowl and set aside. Set your strainer on top of it.

4. Rewarm the infused milk, and in a separate bowl start whisking together the egg yolks. Slowly pour some of the warm mint mixture into the yolks (about 1/2 c or so), whisking constantly. Then add this egg mixture to the rest of the mint mixture in the saucepan.

5. Then you’re going to cook the custard, stirring constantly until the mixture thickens and sticks to the spoon or whisk, about 170 degrees F (77 C). Immediately strain this mixture into the cream, then stir the mixture over an ice bath until it cools down.

6. Refrigerate the mixture for a minimum of two hours, but preferably overnight. Then add the mixture to your ice cream maker – for mine, this meant a half hour in the machine mixing until it got that nice thick ice creamy texture.

7. Transfer the ice cream to the container you will store/freeze it in, add the chocolate chips and stir. Cover and freeze until firm.

I’ve been having a ball in my home-away-from-home state of Vermont. I drove up last Friday with my sister Emily and her dog, Julius. I’ve swam almost every day in Lake Champlain or Goshen Dam, avoided stepping on zebra mussels, eaten sweet and drippy peaches, visited the Middlebury food co-op (3x), walked around the Middlebury College campus with Arianna and Rafa, read and napped in a hammock, eaten maple cremees, accompanied friends on a blueberry-wine tasting, and tonight might go to the drive-in. I love summer!

 

I’m usually in Vermont this week every year, and in this post and this post from last July 4th I blogged about living the good life in Vermont too. In fact, I think I’ll make that cashew spread again. Why am I returning to Brooklyn tomorrow?

Before arriving last week I told my stepmom Bonnie that I wanted to make a French potato and green bean salad, like the one David Tanis wrote about recently in the New York Times. Think of it like an improved upon summer potato salad, with a mustardy vinaigrette instead of mayo, tossed with green beans, olives, and lots of fresh herbs. I made it Vermont-style, meaning, whatever Bonnie had in the garden and local eggs. From the garden I picked chives, purple and green basil, thyme, and flat-leaf parsley. I wish I’d remembered to toss in the remaining scapes we had, but used garlic instead. This salad can be prepared ahead and served room temp or cold, perfect for a summer picnic or barbecue.

Vermont Potato and Green Bean Salad

1 3/4 lb small red potatoes
Salt and pepper
1 bay leaf
1 large thyme sprig
1-3 garlic cloves, mashed to a paste, to taste
1 tbsp anchovy paste
1 tbsp chopped capers
2 tsp Dijon mustard
4 tbsp white wine vinegar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 pound small French beans, or green beans
4 large eggs
Handful of chopped herbs: chives, parsley, basil
1/4 cup pitted, cured black olives

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add the potatoes, a bay leaf, and the thyme. Simmer for about 20 minutes until the potatoes are still firm but can be pierced easily with a fork. Remove from the water with a slotted spoon and cool. Don’t drain the water because you can use this later for the green beans.

2. Make the vinaigrette: In a bowl combine the garlic, anchovy paste, capers, mustard, and vinegar. Whisk in the olive oil, and season with salt and pepper.

3. When the potatoes are cool, cut into thick slices. Season with salt and pepper, and cover with half the vinaigrette. Set aside.

4. Trim the ends of the beans and simmer in salted water for 3-4 minutes. Drain and cool under running water.

5. Cook the eggs: bring a pot of water to boil. Add the eggs gently and cook for about 8 minutes, 9 for a firmer yolk. Crack and peel immediately to cool. Cut each egg in half and season with salt and pepper.

6. When ready to serve, coat the green beans with the remaining dressing, and add to the potatoes. Arrange the eggs and olives on top. Garnish with the fresh herbs and serve.

Below are shots of the purple basil in the garden; ice cream from Middlebury; and I just had to have a picture with this teal green bug in town. There was a summer in California I drove around in a bright yellow one, I’ll see if I can find a photo of that. Happy 4th people.

This post comes to you from the Bahamas, where I’m visiting friends for the week, via my friend Daurie in Mexico.

Daurie and I met years ago as high school students in Vermont; it’s a cliche to say we became fast friends, but, well, we did. I would sleep over her house on school nights so we could get up at six in the morning to go for four-mile runs out past her father’s deer farm. For my sixteenth birthday she threw me a surprise party—I can remember about ten of us staying up the whole night in the woods behind her house, in thick snow, playing under the moonlight. She is also the first person I cooked spinach with; the recipe called for something like “a whole bunch” and that just seemed absurd, so we used only about 1 cup. To our disbelief, after cooking we were left with about two bites of sautéed spinach.

Nowadays Daurie teaches at the Centro Cultural de Lenguas, a language school in downtown Morelia, in Michoacán, Mexico. As a very cool assignment, she had her intensive students write a traditional Mexican recipe in English, with a small paragraph introducing the dish. Then I would select the best one and publish the winning recipe here on Mostly Food.

It was difficult choosing a winner. All the recipes—from chilaquiles to stuffed poblano peppers—were charming, funny, well written. In the end, I selected the gazpacho, in part because as summer rolls around, this would make for a refreshing bite—and I like the part about Gaspar and his missing teeth. As you’ll see it’s different than Spanish gazpacho, which is a cold soup mainly of pureed tomatoes. This version is fruit based: pineapple, mango, jicama and fresh orange juice, and comes to us courtesy of Omar, Vicente, and Alfredo (pictured in the bottom photo).

Mexican Gazpacho

One time in a fruit store, when the fruit was chopped in big pieces, an old man came to buy fruit. However, he had a problem with his teeth because he only had a few them. Then the old man asked the owner of the place for a favor. He said, “Please chop the fruit in little pieces, because I can’t eat it in big pieces.” So the man chopped the fruit and put it in a glass with some orange juice. That’s how the old man always came back to buy the same fruit. One time the man asked his name. It was Gaspar and for that reason the name is Gazpacho.

Preparation time: 20 min.
Servings: 7

Ingredients:
1 Pineapple
5 Mangos
2 Jicamas
1 Liter Orange juice
1 Cup. Grated cheese
2 Limes
1/2 Tsp. Salt
Chile piquin to taste
Valentina salsa to taste

Preparation
1. Wash the fruit.
2. Peel the fruit and cut into small pieces.
3. Put the ingredients in a bowl and mix.
4. Add the orange juice.
5. Cut the 2 limes in half and squeeze the juice on the mix.
6. Add grated cheese, salt, chile piquin and valentina salsa to taste.
7. It’s ready to enjoy.