on the right: tuesday night's bounty (shut it- we make do with what we've got)

This is the true story of the culinary escapades of a real-life quichologist and my trusty sous-chef. Set in our Brooklyn kitchen and peppered along the way with edible exploits, experiments and masterpieces, I hope you enjoy the ride...


So when I set out every year to have a halfway decent garden, I have to first come to terms with the fact that whatever modest harvest I end up with, will inevitably pale in comparison to my grandfather's garden. Every year he has a magnificent garden full of tomatoes, squash, cabbage, cucumbers, cantaloupe (this year's wild card), chard and wild rhubarb. I am okay with this :) More than anything, his garden gives me the added motivation to see what I can get to grow in a pot or two on my fire escape. However, for the sake of documenting all things inspirational and food related, I am including this terrific photo of my Papa with a giant bunch of rhubarb that he was more than happy to give to me (since technically, the rhubarb season has passed*, my grandmother was done making strawberry rhubarb pies til next season, and I was making his job of clearing the patch a wee bit easier)

Plain and Simple (with a little butter and lemon)
Last year, when the Sous Chef and I were on a lengthy trip via treno from Austria to Italia - we quizzed each other on Italian food vocab. "la salsiccia! la pera! il pisello!" I like to think that I came out of that journey a little wiser, as we were recently at a restaurant and I magically conjured up the translation of the Italian word for cuttlefish. The Sous Chef however, fared a little less successfully and came back to the states with only the word for tuna - tonno, etched into his memory. It may have had something to do with the smuggled jar of tonno packed in oil that managed miraculously to survive the transcontinental flight and the subsequent, steaming hot Brooklyn summer. The tonno sat on our shelf for a few months, shunned by my trepidatious notion of food borne illness, but was relished secretly by the Sous Chef as a midnight snack sometime last fall. (I decided to take a pass on that particular edible delight). In honor of that brave jar, I whipped up a fresh and tasty Mediterranean mix of equally good-quality (imported) tuna in olive oil, sliced green olives, flat-leaf parsley, cannellini beans, chopped tomato, avocado, lemon juice, salt & pepper.

I love it when this happens. I come across a recipe and want to try it out, and by some miracle or stroke of fantastically good luck, I have all of the ingredients in my kitchen already and don't need to go on a pilgrimage to find them! (though to be fair, my little corner grocery store has surprisingly decent produce... but for meats, cheese, fish, spices and nearly everything else I have to trek elsewhere). Mark Bittman, the guy from the New York Times, who has these amusing foodie video clips, made a simple little salad with mint, edamame, olive oil, lemon juice, salt & pepper and shaved pecorino cheese. I watched this weekend's clip and exclaimed at 10 am, "I can make that without going grocery shopping!" -- and I did -- well, I waited til dinner, but it was so great- I could eat bowls and bowls of this stuff. I would recommend that you buy the pre-shelled edamame beans to save yourself some extra time if you are going to try this at home.

I love to make soup, but I typically do so when there's a nip in the air or snow on the ground. How boring, right? There is a world of chilled soup out there and I was turning my back on it. Not one to let convention get me down, I decided to spin off of my curried apple butternut squash soup recipe and find a cold soup that has the same gingery, curried zing and sweetness that I love without being so thick. And lately, since I've been more interested in curries and eastern ingredients, I thought a carrot soup, lightened with coconut milk would be the perfect accompaniment to those frosty lemon gingerades pictured below...