WHITE BEAN VEGGIE BURGERS

2 cans white beans, drained and rinsed

2-3 shallots or one medium onion, chopped

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

1 scallion

1 egg

¼ cup breadcrumbs

1 tsp. dried sage or 6 fresh sage leaves, chopped

Olive Oil (2-3 tbs. to caramelize onions; ¼ cup for frying patties)

Canola Oil (¼ cup to fry the patties in)

Caramelize onion (or shallots) in a skillet over medium heat for about 10-15 minutes, until deeply browned. Stir occasionally and be careful not to burn. Add garlic and sauté on low for an additional five minutes. Take half of your beans and half of the cooked onions and transfer to a food processor; add egg, breadcrumbs, scallion and sage. Salt and pepper generously. Pulse until combined (be careful not to overdo it, my patties were a little soupy because I was a little heavy handed with the old Cuisinart). Mash the remaining beans and cooked onion mixture with a fork in a medium sized bowl. Add mixture from processor to onions and mashed beans; form into 4 patties. To try and maintain a little bit of order I opted on giving my hands a little spritz of oil so they wouldn’t be too sticky during this step, but even with this precaution, making these patties is a mess. I started to get stressed out that I had done something wrong. I placed the patties on a lightly greased cookie sheet and popped it in the freezer for a few minutes in an attempt to try and solidify the patties a little bit. This worked well.

I was still pretty much convinced that this was a slow moving disaster in the works because I felt there was no way something that sticky and gooey was going to work itself into a “burger” that we would be capable of eating without a fork and knife. Once your patties have chilled for a couple minutes, heat a good amount of oil (I mean a good amount) in a large oven safe skillet over medium to medium-high heat (I used a combination of olive oil and canola). Brown patties in pan (about 5 minutes a side) until they are golden brown on both sides. Once again, I have to warn you they are awkward and tough to turn over, but with a little finesse you can do it. Once both sides of the patties are browned transfer the whole skillet to a 375 degree oven for another 10-15 to cook through.

Worth it? Actually, yes, they were very, very good. By expecting the worst I ended up being delighted with the end result. We topped ours with arugula, sliced tomato and hot sauce. Although, mayo or cheese would have been a welcome addition as well. I would definitely make these again. Even though they aren’t that healthy (because they’re essentially fried in oil before baked) and they are messy (I would definitely only pulse the beans in the food processor a fraction of as many times I did) I would make these again in a hot second.

Sorry for the truncated post and disgusting photos. Not my best work, I know. I’m in a bit of a pre-vacation scramble. It was dark in my kitchen when I was making dinner last night and I was so stinking hungry by the time I was done I quickly snapped a blurry photo of the end result with my left hand. Smart. So I decided to go all the way with the image, tweak it in Picture Manager and give you a veggie burger picture that looks like a forgotten still from the Beastie Boys’ Whatcha Want video. You’re welcome.

So I’m off on vacation and I am PUMPED about it. I finally get to see my sister’s new baby, as her and her family are headed in to town today (chair dance of excitement); we are headed down the Cape for a family vacay! I will be spending the next week drinking cocktails in the afternoon (woo!), eating fried sea creatures (fist pump!) and going to Sundae School (pelvic thrust!).

I'll take it

WHOLE GRAIN SALAD with SUMMER VEGGIES and FRESH HERBS

1 c. wheatberries*
4 c. water
1 tsp. salt

½ pint cherry tomatoes, quartered or halved
1 yellow pepper, diced
½ large cucumber or one small, diced
3-4 scallions, chopped
Handful basil leaves, chopped (approx. ½ c.)
Approx. ¼ cup mint leaves, chopped

¼ c. red wine vinegar
½ c. extra virgin olive oil
½ tsp. Dijon mustard
salt, pepper
pinch sugar
1 tsp. lemon zest
½ package crumbled feta

*Que pasa wheatberries, Jess? Well, glad you asked. Wheatberries are a dense whole grain that kind of look like farro (“wheatberries” is also, according to Spell Check, not a word and neither is “farro”. Whatever Spell Check, they are Google search terms and hence, exist). So I accidentally bought some wheatberries because I was convinced that they were farro, even though the label on the package clearly read “wheatberries.” I wrongly assumed “pssh, same thing!” It turns out that they were actually wheatberries, which are a whole grain not totally unlike farro, but aren’t in fact, farro. Now, I certainly don’t hate ‘em, but these suckers take like 2 hours to cook.





Since wheatberries are a weird random ingredient, I had to turn to the internet to find instructions on how to prepare them. The internet will tell you that you will need to cook one cup of wheatberries in 3-4 cups of a water with a little salt. The internet will tell you that this takes an hour. This is a vicious lie. I cooked my wheatberries for closer to two, continually adding a little more water here and there, and they still ended up, well, toothsome. Toothsome is a word used by fancy chefs to describe food that is undercooked. So the resulting salad was delicious in flavor, but moderately crunchy in texture. Next time, make this salad with quinoa, cous cous, bulgur wheat OR drained, rinsed chickpeas. Any and all of these substitutions are tasty, super healthy and take less than 20 minutes.



Personally, I really don’t mind a time commitment in the kitchen. I got a lot of other things done: did a load of laundry, drank some wine, poached some chicken, made chicken salad, baked up some tofu, talked on the phone, etc. Eventually however, as the wheatberry cooking process edged toward the 2 hour mark, I found myself drunk and impatient eager to taste the finished result. And the finished result? Actually still very good, despite the fact that the main ingredient was still a little denser than anticipated. The flavor was really good. I'll take it.



Remove your (semi)cooked wheatberries from heat, let cool for a bit. Meanwhile whisk mustard, vinegar, salt, pepper and sugar in a large bowl. Drizzle in olive oil to make dressing. Toss in diced veggies, followed by your grain, the herbs, lemon zest and feta. Toss several times. Keep refrigerated. Great as a healthy side dish, salad topper or as a snack with hummus and pita.



And don't say I didn't warn you that wheatberries might get you drunk.

Now Is the Time on Sprockets When We Dance.

Am I dating myself with this reference? I just sat down to tap out this post and it’s all I could think of. Because: Now Is the Time on Porky Dickens When We Eat Tomatoes.

We were talking about tomatoes at dinner the other night and musing how tomatoes probably have the widest spanning good-to-bad range of any food out there. The good are weak in the knees, eyes roll back in your head, change the whole scope of your taste bud spectrum good and the bad are, well, gag inducingly bad, right? So this is the time of year I wait for. When Good Tomatoes are finally plentiful. Tomatoes so good I do karate chops and small dances when I eat them. Yes, that good. So I guess, now is the time when we Dance, or rather, our taste buds dance.

So this is essentially a repeat recipe. Lo siento. In all fairness the one gripe I’ve got about seasonally delightful ingredients such as tomatoes and corn is that the recipes for preparation of same are simple, easy and basic. Because when you’ve got something this good going on the last thing you want to do is jack it up by messing with it. But I will say that a “recipe” that reads: slice tomato, salt, pepper, eat. Doesn’t exactly make for a riveting blog post but whatever.

CORN and TOMATO SALAD with SHALLOT VINAIGRETTE

A word about vinaigrettes: the first thing I ever perfected in the kitchen was basic balsamic vinaigrette. A wise sage once told me that the key to any good vinaigrette is one part vinegar to two parts oil. I can’t remember who said sage was; it might have been my mom, or Martha Stewart, or Rachael Ray. No wait, if it was Big Rach she would have said “two parts EVOO” and then I would have tuned out. So anyways, it doesn’t matter who I learned it from, now you can learn this from me. The first secret to good vinaigrette is this: Every. Single. Good. Salad. Dressing. You. Make. Will. Subscribe. To. This. Ratio. (You can tell I’m serious because of all the periods): 2 parts oil, 1 part acid. For a long time whenever I made vinaigrette I would use a shot glass. One shot vinegar, or lemon juice, two shots oil. But this made a LOT of dressing. I have since scaled it down a bit and thrown measuring at all out the window. I simply eye out my two-to-one ratio.

The second secret to good vinaigrette is emulsification. Formerly, I would blend my vinaigrette with an immersion blender, which works wonderfully if you, like me, aren’t all that handy with whisking and pouring oil evenly at the same time. These days, I combine all my dressing ingredients in a jar, clamp the lid on and shake the ever-loving life out of the thing. This works as well. I find you don’t need the strength of a good whisking wrist or the steady hand for a delicate oil pour. You CAN beat the ingredients into emulsification if you shake the jar hard enough. I call it the “shock and awe” emulsification method (patent pending).

The third secret to a good vinaigrette is twofold: Dijon mustard and sugar. Not too much of either, just a touch. About a quarter to a half teaspoon of mustard, and just one generous pinch of sugar will do. The sugar cuts the acidity of the vinegar or lemon juice and the mustard adds a little tang, a little depth of flavor and helps to thicken the dressing a bit.

Wow, you’ll notice above I said “a word about vinaigrettes” and then I yammered on for three, extremely detailed paragraphs with a lot of unnecessary punctuation. Can you tell I eat a lot of salads? And I feel very strongly about salads being appropriately dressed. And I happen to know a thing or three about vinaigrettes. I could make one in my sleep. So…with that being said, back to the salad:

SALAD

2-3 ripe tomatoes

1-2 ear(s) of corn, kernels stripped off

Handful of basil leaves, coarsely chopped

DRESSING

1 shallot, peeled and minced

¼ tsp. Dijon mustard

1 part Red Wine Vinegar

Pinch of sugar

Salt and cracked black pepper

2 parts extra virgin olive oil

In a bowl large enough for your salad combine shallot, mustard, sugar, vinegar, salt and pepper. Whisk together ingredients. While whisking drizzle in olive oil slowly to emulsify. (this is the standard means of achieving emulsification, if you would rather skip, use one of the methods above I just didn’t feel like dirtying an extra dish or jar). Add corn to bowl and toss to coat; add tomatoes and chopped basil. Serve immediately with crusty bread for sopping up the extra dressing and tomato juice.

pickled dickens

I’m not the kind of lady that pickles things. Well, unless you count my liver. Yeesh. I turned 30 on Monday and it has been a long week filled with all things overindulgent. I have had an absolute blast but I need a salad and a gallon of Gatorade. So yes, I’m 30 now, which brings me one year closer to my eventual career goal of being retired. My friend and I often fantasize about the days when we’re finally those boozy grandmas who are wicked tan and thin and eat only oysters and champagne and take to wearing their good, heavy jewelry all the time. I think I will be a very cool grandma. Which brings me to pickles (nice segue, right? Don’t hassle me I’m hung over).



The loose association between grandmas and pickles is this: my Grandma always had a pickle plate on the dinner table and my Nana was the type of lady who pickled, jarred and canned. So there you have it connection complete. Grandmas=pickles.



These are the Cliffs Notes of pickles. So simple I can hardly stand it. Truth is, I don’t even like pickles all that much, but I just needed to know if I could make them or not. Remember last month when I quick pickled some cherry tomatoes? I simply wanted to see if that recipe would translate to regular old pickles. I wasn’t even banking on these pickles being noteworthy enough to blog about but wouldn’t you know it, they were very noteworthy indeed.



The pickles have just the right amount of zip and tang and they stayed crunchy for weeks. Weeks. Take that Vlasic! In your face Claussen! If things don’t work out with my modeling career, I know I have a fall back gig making pickles. Which is fine with me, so long as I can retire in time to really enjoy my tan/drunk grandma phase.



FAST and EASY PICKLES

6 pickling cucumbers
1 ½ c. water
1 ½ c. apple cider vinegar
6 tsp. salt
3 tsp. sugar
A couple small strips lemon peel (yellow part only, no white pith)
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
½ tsp. crushed red pepper
¼ c. chopped fresh dill



Rinse and dry your cucumbers and slice into spears or rounds (I chose rounds, although, I’m quite sure you could pickle the whole cucumbers, but it would take longer for the flavor to seep into them). Heat water, vinegar, sugar and salt in a small sauce pan over high heat. Allow mixture to come to a boil and stir a few times so that the sugar doesn’t scorch on the bottom of the pan. Let simmer until salt and sugar are dissolved (this happens quickly, stay nearby). Remove pot from heat and let cool about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, assemble your flavorings: slice garlic, chop dill, peel lemon, measure pepper. Drop cucumbers and flavoring ingredients into a large glass jar, fill with liquid.



Let sit at room temperature for as little as 2 or as many as 8 hours. Voila, pickles. Clamp a lid on that jar and store in the fridge. These pickles have kept (and stayed crunchy) for the last two weeks, going on three. I can’t comment on their lifespan beyond two or three weeks, but so far so good.



*you will note that in this last photo, you can see the liquid only fills the jar about halfway. At first, I merely followed the recipe for the Pickled Cherry Tomatoes. But the liquid only filled the jar about halfway up. So I quickly and loosely created a second batch of the liquid elements, topped it off and all was well again.

what it's all about

One Sunday morning not too long ago, this breakfast was the perfect start to a perfect day. A day spent with people I love the best at one of my favorite places on the planet. The water was 70 degrees and there were waves. There are never waves. I spent about three hours in the ocean diving into, jumping over and riding the crest of these perfect, delicious waves with my main squeeze and my niece and nephew. Afterwards we trekked, waterlogged, back to my aunt’s house, showered off the sand and ate lobsters in drawn butter, cake and ice cream for my mom’s birthday dinner. We walked back down to the beach and watched the sunset before starting the drive home. I almost cried. Alright, I did cry a little. Because that kind of day is the sort that reminds you of what life is all about. Floating weightless, sandy toes, corn on the cob: simple happiness.

There is something to be said for utter and complete simplicity in the kitchen as well. Given the surplus of 90 degree days in Massachusetts this summer, I haven’t been cooking much lately so much as I’ve been assembling. Fortunately, these dog days are also the one time of year where we find ourselves with a bounty of locally grown, farm fresh produce. Now, during the winter, there is nothing I like better than making a big, stick-to-your-ribs breakfast. When it’s chilly outside simmering pots of baked beans, paprika laced homefries and multiple cups of warm coffee make sense. When it’s hot outside I don’t even want to think of anything that sticks to my ribs, namely because my hair is sticking to my forehead and my thighs to any sort of vinyl seat covering whose path they may cross.

For me, assembling a little “homemade” scallion cream cheese, slathering it on a bagel with thick slices of perfect summer tomatoes, adding a sprinkle of sea salt and some cranks of fresh black pepper is breakfast nirvana. This meal is best eaten on the back deck, with a couple iced coffees and maybe some fresh fruit; spending your afternoon riding ocean waves is optional, but highly recommended.

so about that pie

Last week, wait, two weeks ago? I vaguely referenced that I made a pie. An ice cream pie. With a crust that involved melted butter and crushed Oreos. I mentioned it once and then sidestepped right over it to sandwiches. That was rude of me. I can't remember how I stumbled across a recipe for Grasshopper Pie but when I saw it I quickly decided that it would be my dessert contribution to the 4th of July holiday weekend festivities. Easy, summery, super sweet and delicious; albeit, not the easiest thing to transport. This pie came together in a cinch and it went fast. So fast I didn't even get a good photo of it. It was melty and sweet. Mint ice cream isn't my favorite but the crust alone is worth the recipe. Next time I'm thinking strawberry.



I found this on a really excellent dessert site. Which I cannot recall the name of but I know it starts with an "L" and involves the word "culinary" or something. How's that for specific? Go to the Google and find it! I probably found the link through thekitchn.com, because that site is my ultimate link guru. The recipe itself annoyed me a little bit because it kept referred to Grasshopper Pie as a "white trash" recipe. I guess because the standard recipe is to simply purchase a pre-made chocolate crust, dump some softened ice cream in and refreeze it and call it a pie. And because things that are convenient are, apparently in foodie circles, "white trash" (and they used the quotations every time which made me be like either say it or don't but don't throw it in quotations like some abstract concept. Heck, I'd capitalize it). Meh. If there's one thing I hate it's food snobbery that jumps off the page. This particular recipe I read was like: "to class it up, make your own ice cream." And I was like "Why would I attempt to make something complicated in the middle of a gorgeous summer weekend when the fine folks at Brigham's have this covered?" So I opted for the partial White Trash method. Homemade crust, store bought ice cream. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go change the oil in my '83 Camaro, fluff my mullet and cut myself a new pair of jean shorts. Enjoy the pie.



GRASSHOPPER PIE

2 rows of Oreo cookies, with the filling scraped out
1/4 cup dark chocolate chips
6 tbs. unsalted butter, melted
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

1/2 gallon good vanilla ice cream (I used Brigham's)
1/4 cup Creme de Menthe*

Place ice cream on counter to thaw out a bit. Pulse Oreos and chocolate chips in food processor, add melted butter and vanilla. Process until evenly incorporated. Press crumbs into a buttered pie dish, as evenly as you can, across the bottom and up the sides. For ease, you can butter your hands a bit, or use a piece of saran wrap under your fingers to preventing crumbs from sticking to them. Freeze crust.



Scoop softened ice cream into large mixing bowl, pour on Crème de Menthe. Mix well to combine using either a silicone spatula or hand mixer. Scrape ice cream out of the bowl into frozen crust, smoothing the top layer so it looks nice. Freeze until ready for serving. The original recipe said to let the pie thaw in the fridge for an hour before serving, but if you’re serving this in July, just pop it on the counter for a minute and start slicing before it all melts away. Serve topped with a drizzle of Hershey's Syrup or a dollop of lightly sweetened whip cream.

*I now have a leftover bottle of Crème de Menthe. I bet you good money that it gathers dust in my pantry for the next quarter century.

heaven on whole grain bread

There are few joys greater in life than a fantastic sandwich. I once took an unpaid day off work just to try a particular Chilean sandwich joint that is only open on weekdays in downtown Boston. I’m not kidding. Sandwich availability was the deciding factor in my willingness to take a full day off without pay. There are some things in life you are willing to sacrifice for. Not too far from where I live, there is a particular slice of heaven called Circe’s Grotto. It is arguably the best sandwich shop I’ve ever visited. At Circe’s they bake their own bread on site, daily. The sandwich girls (it’s mostly girls here so I’ll generalize) must go through some sort of rigorous 20 step training process only open to a select few elite candidates. They are like the Navy Seals of sandwich making. Regardless of which sandwich engineer I am assigned the end result is always delicious, appropriately proportioned and foot thumpingly good. Don’t even get me started on the cookies. Do. Not. Get. Me. Started. Or the fact that their ice is crushed not cubed (!!!) and they have fresh brewed iced tea and carry the best brand of kettle chips around. If god himself could grant my every food and snack wish, he would begin and end with Circe’s Grotto.



I’ll take an excellent sandwich over pretty much any other food, any day of the week (except pizza). I feel quite strongly about it, because it’s one of the only places I’ve come to for years that has yet to disappoint. Some days they will have a limited selection of ridiculous lobster rolls under the glass, or a particularly good salad special, but it’s difficult for me to get away from the two sandwich choices that I love best. The sandwiches in question are their fresh mozzarella, which is topped with chunky, homemade pesto, mixed greens, ripe tomato slices on a dense whole grain bread and their turkey, cheddar and avocado: which is slathered with red pepper mayonnaise, thinly sliced purple onion, sharp cheddar and chunks of ripe avocado, the lot of which are pressed on a Panini press and melted to perfection. There is another menu option I like: a third dark horse in the running that involves marinated grilled and chicken, roasted peppers and gorgonzola, but it’s served in a wrap and, I’ll say this for the record: wraps ain’t sandwiches.



Circe’s is my favorite place to stop before I go down to the beach. However, it’s a bit out of the way and though my reputation precedes me (see above) as someone who’s dedication to eating is unparalleled, sometimes I just can’t make it all the way there. Especially if it’s a busy beach weekend and making the stop for sandwiches would cut into my bronzing and lounging time by well over an hour. So you can imagine the bind I found myself in 4th of July weekend. I would need sandwiches, I knew that much, but loathed the thought of going out of my way. The local sub shop would be completely mobbed and the only good option there is a meatball sub and sometimes a gal just doesn’t want to pair her bathing suit with a 5 lb. meat and sauce filled torpedo. So I did the craziest and zaniest thing. I made my OWN sandwiches and brought them with us to the beach. Isn’t that quaint and old fashioned of me? How revolutionary a thought. To get the kind of sandwich I want without going out of my way I could make it myself.



So, I’m not going to give you a sandwich recipe on here. I think you can probably figure out how to make a sandwich on your own (if you can’t call me; so I can rip on you for a few minutes). Plus, sandwich preparation is an extraordinarily subjective and personal process. Some people hail from the Land of Much Meat while others have lived a life of Condiment Domination. It’s a case by case scenario and I’m not going to force my sandwich beliefs on you. I will just give you a little inspiration. Our sandwiches were inspired by Circe’s turkey, cheddar and avocado, with the difference being that instead of tangy red pepper mayo, ours were slathered with spicy Siracha mayo and we didn’t toast or melt them because they were going to travel anyways. We paired these with some chilled pasta salad, a cooler full of beer and one of the most perfect beach days in recent memory.



TRIPLE “P” PASTA SALAD

The three “P”s are for Pesto, Peas and Pasta. Although, now that I’m reading this I guess calling it “triple” and including one of the “P”s: pasta, in the title is a bit redundant, but you know what, now I’m attached to the name, so what’s done is done. This is my take on a pasta salad offered in the cold case at Circe’s. It’s a great option for a picnic or to take to the beach because there isn’t any mayonnaise, so you don’t have to risk food poisoning in order to have a side dish with your sandwich. I like that. The last time I grabbed a container full of this I planned on sharing. Planned.

1 box rotini, ziti or bowtie
1 jar or package store bought pesto (or homemade, if you have time)
½ package frozen petite peas (or fresh, if you’re in the mood for shelling)
¾ cup toasted pine nuts, or sunflower seeds
Approx. ¾ cup whole basil leaves, ripped off the stem*
Extra virgin olive oil (no exact quantity just have plenty)
½ cup to ¾ cup grated parmesan cheese (optional)

*a perfect substitution would be baby spinach leaves. I think that this is what Circe’s uses in their original. I don’t think they use basil leaves because basil leaves turn black after they are refrigerated for a while and I have never seen any black leaves in the Circe’s version. I like the basil leaves for their flavor, just don’t be surprised if they turn a little less than verdant on you.



This recipe is so great for a couple different reasons: it travels well, it’s summer appropriate, it’s (kind of) not (that) bad for you and it’s a classic “cook and dump” as in you cook the pasta and dump everything else in the pot once the pasta is drained and voila, side dish city. You don’t even have to chop anything. Regardless, I will give you the steps I followed as I made this up as I went along:

Cook pasta according to package directions. Meanwhile, toast your pine nuts or sunflower seeds on low in a nonstick pan. When you can smell them, they’re toasted. Be careful: nuts burn! Drain pasta and return to cooking pot, add half package frozen peas, toasted seeds/nuts, your pesto and basil leaves, drizzle a healthy amount of olive oil on and toss well. Taste, add more olive, salt, pepper and parmesan cheese (if desired). Refrigerate until ready to eat.