Sassy Radish

Poor Caesar salad. For the remainder of Spring and all of Summer it’s filed away, not once remembered. We think of it only when the weather turns on us – cold rain becomes an everyday thing, sweaters and scarves emerge, and we put away iced coffee and leave home clutching our thermal mug full of the hot stuff.

I, for one, lament this unceremonious Caesar salad dismissal. I miss the emulsion of lemon, garlic, Parmesan, anchovy, and olive oil, and could eat it practically every day. I’ve been known to make this slurry and slather it on a thick piece of country bread. It’s so good, so potent, so unapologetically bold – it’s not some small-time vinaigrette, delicately coating your salad leaves.

Continue reading asparagus caesar salad.

Well, you guys are really just swell, you know that? A girl gets gushy and you leap in there with her and get gushy right back! Thanks! And in case you were wondering, it’s making me grin from ear to ear. I feel a gigantic internet hug coming on, do you?

This salad isn’t just any salad, so by pushing the post back, I’m sure I’ve bruised its feelings somewhat. By now it’s probably off in the corner somewhere skulking and pouting. It was all ready for prime time and then, unceremoniously and without warning, it was pushed aside.

Continue reading cucumber radish salad.

I’m convinced that smoke detectors cause more injuries than prevent them. I was making dinner last night – nothing crazy – just a simple weeknight affair: some roasted fish, some cabbage with hot sauce, some sautéed spinach that needed rescuing. Everything in this dinner cooked pretty quickly, and there was little prep work – it was simple, unfussy, satisfying fare. Andrew was minutes away from home. We were going to eat and finish dinner before 9 pm, which, on weeknights when he isn’t working from home, is an accomplishment. The world was mine for the taking.

Or so I thought. But the universe had slightly different plans for me. The smoke detector decided it was too smoky. I happen to disagree – I could see as clear as day (though Andrew might claim it was a tad smoky in the kitchen). But all was fine and good – nothing was burning, nothing was even close to burning. But a few seconds after I set a hot baked fish on the counter, the alarm went off, and because I flail when I startle (and that detector has been known to raise the dead), I accidentally, in my flailing, happen to touch the edge of the baking tray the fish was on. For a few seconds, which was all that was needed to do the damage. All the while the smoke detector was blaring and a neutral female voice was calmly informing me that there was a fire. There wasn’t. I know because I was there. American smoke detectors are such drama queens.

Continue reading apple and fennel salad.

This is the salad of my childhood, the salad present at every family gathering I can recall, the salad appearing at every Russian banquet table I’ve ever been to in America, the salad regularly lurking in many Russians’ refrigerators.

In my family, we’ve always referred to this salad as Olivier or Zimniy (“of winter”), but in America, sometimes I see this salad referred to as the Russian salad. And though Russians eat a lot of different salads, perhaps this one wins in the popularity contest department.

Continue reading salad olivier.

It’s not exactly an intuitive thing to think of slaw this time of year. And it would have totally slipped my mind were it not for last week’s Super Bowl party that my friends threw to mark the game. The big piece de resistance for the meal portion were pulled pork sandwiches and my girlfriend, Sharon, made sure to slow-roast the meat over twelve hours. My contribution, paltry this time around, was a simple slaw to complement the sweet tones of the pulled pork.

My initial thoughts turned to salads I typically gravitate to in the winter. Plates of bright citrus, bowls of hearty lacinato kale, mounds of sturdy escarole. But none of those went as well with pulled pork as a traditional slaw. And when I went on a grocery run, I noticed that while the greens were looking rather limp and sadder than usual, cabbage was sturdy and crisp, as if trying to tell me that I should, perhaps, give slaw a chance.

Continue reading cole slaw with wasabi-spiked mayo.

Were I not so bleary-eyed yesterday, I might be able to express my glee with this salad. But I slept poorly, woke up early, and skipped my morning coffee and sat at my desk all day without so much as a drop of caffeine. This morning treated me to a migraine and I decided to work from home where I can be in a dark and quiet room. But this salad is a revelation, and it’s going to be on regular rotation this winter. I’ve already made it three times in the span of ten days. I would have made more, but I ran out of lacinato kale. Not to worry, more is coming this week and I plan on making loads more of this come Thursday night for our book club dinner, which I’m hosting this time. But as for you, you must make it as soon as you possibly can. It’s not at all time-consuming and you’ll be amazed that you might start craving a salad this time of year. I can’t implore you enough – go now!

Right around this time of year, I face the perennial problem of how to eat more greens while most everything I see at the farmers’ market is brown-colored. I think because it’s been so bitterly cold outside (six degrees out yesterday morning!) I’m turned off by traditional salads with crunchy lettuce and the usual out-of-season salad accouterments – the last thing I want on my place is a cold salad. I want a green that’s chewy, almost meaty, that has a strong, nutty bite and a toothsome quality. Give me something I can sink my teeth into!

Continue reading tuscan kale salad with pecorino.

I’m gonna make this one brief; there’s little time. Work has been busy, but I want to post more and give you guys more recipes. And yet I’ve barely any time to type up the recipe, never mind edit the photos and write a few words outside of the cooking instructions. It’s strange to be so busy in August, because August, by my calculation, shouldn’t be busy at all. It should be slow and languid and hot. Well, it got one out of three down, but yowza, August, wanna slow down for me a bit? Just enough for me to catch my breath?

Though to be fair, we did finally get a few cooler days in New York and the weather has grown, as I like to call it, more civilized, at least for the time being. I no longer arrive to work covered in sweat, which is a bonus, not only because it’s sort of gross, but more importantly because the minute I get in to work, I’m hit with such cold temperatures, I should have furry boots under my desk. You get that much colder when you’re sweaty. Thank goodness for that oversized fleece I keep nearby. Still, cooler temperatures and all, it’s still plenty hot out there.

This is a recipe I did for the Real Simple’s blog, Simply Stated, a few weeks ago when they asked me to put together a three ingredient recipe that was perfect for summer months. Barring your usual caprese and prosciutto e melone ideas, I wanted to give you something that was actually a bit revelatory. I know three ingredients sound a bit like cheating, and to be honest with you, I was a little afraid putting this in front of you, except, you see, this recipe here, that’s one of those things I ate as a child by huge bowlfuls. Were you to give me a small shovel in place of a spoon, I would have been even more pleased. Every time I make this, I am, at once, at my grandmother’s for the summer, two hours away from Moscow, surrounded by lush farmland and dense Russian forests.

I know this salad looks so simple, that it’s almost a non-recipe, but I’m okay with that. I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you. This is seriously amazing, delicious, and sings a glorious ode to summer and to tomatoes, which are everywhere right now. These particular tomatoes here come from one of my favorite local farms, but good tomatoes can be found anywhere this time of year. I like make this salad for dinner and eat it with thick slices or rustic sourdough bread. It takes minutes to make, it’s beyond addictive, and it allows tomatoes to really shine. I particularly love the bite of the onion here as it accents the sweetness and acidity of the tomatoes. Plus, when was I able resist anything with sour cream in it? Exactly – never.

Continue reading tomato and onion salad.

Last week was a bit of a whirlwind, and I’m still recovering. Darting between work and blog events and friends’ birthdays can sure be exhausting. I’m dreaming of a beach chair with an umbrella drink and hours upon hours of reading. Alas, a vacation is but a few months away, so I must comfort myself with periodic lazy weekends in Brooklyn! Brooklyn, you complete me!

Well, dear readers, last week I got to check out the BlogHer conference in New York, and it was mere minutes away from my office – bonus! The impetus was seeing good friends in town, particularly the lovely Alice Currah, of Savory Sweet Life, who crashed at my place for the weekend and ate some of my homemade mango sorbet! I finally met Kamran, an old twitter friend (amazing what the interwebs has done for us, isn’t it?), in person. And I also got to met Ree, of the incredible Pioneer Woman, and Elise of the encyclopedic Simple Recipes, at the amazing party that Ree, Elise, and Jaden (of the spicy Steamy Kitchen) threw on the roof of the Peninsula Hotel. It was good to see some old friends there: Lisa, Deb, Marc, and Jennie. And meet some new ones whose blogs I’ve been reading for so long. Sadly, I missed saying hi to a few folks as well. Sometimes, it seems, we forget about face time, given how much time we spend online: working, playing, maintaining our lives. In person, face-to-face is so much nicer, I think. While Twitter and Facebook and blogs have been instrumental in building beautiful communities and bringing people together, there’s nothing like saying hello to them and shaking their hand, or hugging them because you feel like you’ve been reading them for so long, you’ve known them forever.

On the heels of the conference, the lovely folks at Martha Stewart Circle (see the turquoise circle on the side of this site? That’s them!) threw the most beautiful party for bloggers, with a private tour of the building for their charter members. I was elated to finally meet Mark Ganem, who looks after MC members, after we exchanged a flurry of emails, as well as other folks who work for MSLO (thanks, Amie, for sheparding me through). I finally got to meet Aran, the voice behind one of my favorite blogs, http://cannelle-vanille.blogspot.com/, and Matt Armendariz and Adam Pearson of Matt Bites.

We were sent home with a gift bag full of Martha’s publications: Living, Everyday Food, Bride, and Whole Living, and I spent a good portion of the past Sunday curled up in a chair leafing through the complete stack. I remember getting a subscription to Martha Stewart Living at fourteen (along with Gourmet (sob!) and Bon Appetit! I devoured each new issue immediately upon its arrival. I think my parents were relieved I wasn’t reading magazines like YM or Seventeen, but by and large they were puzzled by my addiction. I clipped a whole bunch of recipes, but this one here – really caught my eye. I was contemplating cooking a Sunday supper, when I saw: Israeli couscous, fresh corn, sauteed mushrooms – sold! It sounded simple and fresh – summer embodied.

I loved the recipe, but made a few tweaks: upping the corn to three ears from two (because there’s no such thing as too much corn, don’t you agree?); and sauteing the mushrooms with the onions (because caramelized onions make everything, and I mean, everything better!); and throwing in some cilantro (because when you ask me to complete a sentence: “Corn, black beans, lime, jalapeno, and…”, I want to shout out “Cilantro!”) I realize all too well that to many folks cilantro tastes like soap, so if you’re one of those people, by all means do leave it out, but I think it works rather nicely here. Also, the recipe didn’t call for whole wheat couscous, but I wanted to try it and loved its hearty bite.

Perhaps the weekend following this one, I will whisk Andrew (my plus one has a name!) and myself to Prospect Park, armed with some Arnold Palmers, ripe tomatoes, olives and this salad. We might sit under a tree and read, and snack, and read some more. We might even nap. Summer is passing us by, and I don’t want to waste single moment soaking it in. It’s not quite a beach vacation, but I think it’ll do just fine.

Oh Wait, there’s more!! Bonus! Lookie here, I made a wee bit video with the folks at Yahoo! Shine while at the BlogHer conference. I was egged on by Alice – she thinks I do well on camera, but I can’t quite bring myself to watch it. You be the judge!

Continue reading couscous, corn, and mushroom salad.

This recipe makes enough salad for two people. However, if you’re smart, you will make double that amount if you are planning on having a plus one for dinner. I promise you you won’t want to share it. With anyone. No matter how much you like them. Sure, you might just have to play nice and slump some of this salad on their plates, but you’ll do it begrudgingly, and in the back or your head, you’ll kind of wish that it was just you and this salad. Alone. Together. Make just the amount below, and you’ll find yourself remembering my words here, regretting that you didn’t heed my warning. And eating should never be about regret.

Which is why I am so glad to say (guiltily, of course!) that this salad, made for two, was mine – all mine. Each and every crunchy sliver. My solitary dinner never tasted so good. I was thinking, all the while ferociously chewing on a second helping, my goodness, what would I have done if I had to share it? And I’m actually really good at sharing. Especially food. But this, this one is tough. As I’m writing this, I sort of wish for a plateful at my side, but truthfully, I’d be too distracted to write.

This is my perfect kind of salad, crunchy, spicy, and cold, made this during our July-long heatwave, when temperatures exceeded 100 degrees. I wanted something that would make for a great dinner side. When I saw Luisa wax poetic about kohlrabi, a little light went off in my head. I was thinking, I’ve eaten this before – kohlrabi – in Russia. And yet I couldn’t remember what specifically it was in. Or how it was cooked. My mother was of little help. When I asked her about us eating kohlrabi in the old country, she sent me a wikipedia article on what kohlrabi was. No mom, I emailed back, what is it that you made with it? She couldn’t remember either. And so it goes, a taste and a name so familiar, but foreign too, almost as if in a dream.

So when I was peeling and cutting my kohlrabi, I decided to try a little bit on its own. It tasted just like the center part of the cabbage, which, growing up, was one of my favorite snacks. (It’s not lost on me that my favorite childhood snacks were vegetables – which officially makes me weird.) It’s hearty, firm, crunchy, and tastes a little of moist soil. It’s great in the summer raw, and, I imagine, in the colder months – braised in stews. Cutting it into matchsticks is a little tricky, so be sure to use a sharp knife, else you might be putting your fingers in danger. Or, if your matchstick skills could be improved upon, and you’re a tad lazy, like me, use a mandolin, if you have one.

I sort of made this salad up as I went along. I was channeling green papaya salad, which is my favorite and something I can eat every day and not grow tired of, but there isn’t a single Thai place in my neighborhood that gets it just right, so I never wind up ordering it. I thought I’d make something similar, but with the ingredients on hand. And what a delicious experiment this was! I ate each tiny morsel, each fleck of the herbs.

While the heat wave is over, for now, it will, undoubtedly, return in full force. We’ve quite a bit of the summer still left for us. The tomato season is arriving, the stone fruit is piled high at my farmers market; both are seductively fragrant. There’s still so much produce to cook and savor. So for the days when it’s scorching out again, this will be your antidote. Turn your a/c on and make this salad, doubling the amount, as instructed. Sit on your couch with your plus one, knees touching, or at your kitchen table, and pour yourself (and them) a chilled Riesling. This is summer at its best. Come to think of it, sharing is kind of nice.

Continue reading kohlrabi salad.

I, apparently, have so much to say about potato salad, that I’ve been staring at this page for the last four days not sure of what to write. At first, blamed writer’s block, but then I realized it wasn’t so much as that I didn’t know what to say about potatoes, it was more that I didn’t know how to start writing because at once I had so many thoughts running through my head.

I grew up eating a lot of potatoes in all its permutations – I don’t think I’ve ever come across a potato I didn’t like. Boiled, fried, baked, mashed – I’ve loved every version in its own way. I can eat potatoes cold straight from the fridge with a bit of salt, olive oil and freshly cut onion, topped with a few pieces of herring or some other smoked fish. To me – this meal is heaven. And I don’t think the Sassy Radish household has spent a day without potatoes in its pantry – it would feel naked and empty otherwise.

In these hot, sticky months, my thoughts shift to potato salad – cold, perfect-for-a-barbecue potato salad. I could really spend a lifetime celebrating eternal summer with corn on the cob, lobster rolls and blueberry pie. Oh, and potato salad. Because what summer potluck is complete without one?

My favorite way to do this salad in the summer, because Sassy Radish loves potato salad enough to already feature two versions, is to throw everything but the kitchen sink in. True to form, I couldn’t abstain from throwing a bit of horseradish in there for an extra bite, and I think it was the right call to make.

I never know how to classify potatoes – starch or vegetable? It’s always a bit confusing to me, as I want to do both. Not a grain and definitely technically a vegetable – for something so pedestrian, potatoes have managed to be enigmatic. One thing is clear however – they are versatile, filling and comforting no how you view them. And with a plateful of this salad on your plate, eternal summer, if you want it, can be yours as well.

Continue reading classic potato salad.