Isn’t that the truth? Dolly Parton dies; Tim Curry dies; we learn that 50,000 people were taken in July; a landslide crashes down a mountain in Nepal so violently it registers as a magnitude 5.2 earthquake. The world changes an absolutely nauseating amount every day lately, it seems. And then as the sun sets, among those of us still alive and walking free, someone has to make dinner. As you know, I am forever volunteering for the job, if only because it is the sole constant in life.

Tonight, a hodgepodge bake. My favorite vessel lined by olive oil and halves of poblano peppers from the yard, topped with a mixture of leftover jasmine rice from lunch, shredded cheese, sungold tomatoes, corn kernels, flaming flare peppers and lots of diced onion softened in olive oil. Later I’ll top it with more cheese, throw it in a hot oven until golden and bubbly, and serve it alongside refried black beans, a dollop of Greek yogurt, maybe a bit of green tomato salsa I made last week.

A word on beans! Do they upset your stomach? Cool, me too. It’s the oligosaccharides, famously the “O” in “FODMAP.” Theyr’e a type of carbohydrate that can be difficult to digest, but they’re not inherently harmful. I generally stick to dried beans because a long soak, plus draining and rinsing before cooking will reduce the amount of oligosaccharides enough to help your gut out. Tonight I used canned beans, whose oligosaccharides you can also temper by rinsing in water until it runs clear.

They’re an absolute pain in the ass to dry for long storage, it takes forever, which is fine because they’re best fresh anyway— grassy and warm and medicinal in the best way possible. For dinner tonight I’ve mixed them into chickpea flour batter for a baked farinata inspired by The OTK cookbook, Extra Good Things. As written, the recipe suggests baking in a quarter sheet pan, but for maximally crispy edges I think I’ll use a large cast iron skillet. I’ll top fat slices with balsamic onion jam (bolstered by brown sugar and a tiiiny spoonful of Better than Bouillon vegetable base). On the side, a sungold tomato salad with mint, feta and red wine vinaigrette. Maybe some iced mint tea as well.

*Yes, the pumpkin vines have once again escaped the garden fence to swim in the pond, and this year they’re even growing a large pumpkin directly in the water. Yes, I still find their rowdiness painfully charming.

**We mostly grow fennel for its flowers. I do harvest a few of the bulbs every Spring, though I often miss the short window before they’re too tough to eat. Plants that make tiny flowers— fennel, yarrow, alliums, dill, parsley, cilantro— are great for pollinators, especially parasitic wasps. They’re parasitic to aphids and will keep your garden population under control by laying eggs inside of them. Horror movie stuff, I know! But that’s why we have so many fennel seeds; they’re a byproduct of pollination and pest control.

E, in his everlasting attention to detail and my whims, planted a second round. Sometimes this produces ears and sometimes it doesn’t. Depends on the weather, the wind, the pests, the rain, and how hungry the squirrels are (the little jerks love to dig up kernels before they can sprout). Right now I’d say we are tentatively enjoying mild success. Ants have certainly found the new row, but yesterday I started racing outside every morning to beat them to anything ripe.

Last night we enjoyed crispy, crumbled tofu and corn sautéed in black pepper sauce* alongside fish-fragrant okra on jasmine rice. Tonight, another pizza: sourdough base, white sauce (cashew cream, grated garlic, Pecorino, mushroom seasoning), mozzarella, thinly sliced poblano and flaming flare peppers, red onion and of course, corn. On the side, a cherry Spindrift.

*The first link goes to the original recipe from Ottolenghi, and yes you are reading the portions correctly— it suggests we consume more than a Tablespoon of black pepper and 2.5 Tablespoons of soy sauce in each serving. Believe you me, that’s a delicious way to not feel well. Here is a much more approachable and ingestible Smitten Kitchen version. The sauce I make is somewhere in between and I find it will gladly coat two 14 ounce blocks of tofu if mixed with a splash of water and some cornstarch slurry.

Last night I threw yellow potato wedges and broken pieces of tofu onto a baking sheet to get crispy in an hot oven while I mixed together water, corn starch, honey, hot sauce (Cholula, of course) and butter to make buffalo sauce. Is there anything more photogenic than buffalo tofu in golden hour light? How glistens and glows! And what would buffalo anything be without ranch? As always, my weeknight version is Greek yogurt, pickle brine, ranch seasoning blend, and black pepper. Instead of celery, yard cucumbers cut into spears and marinated for a couple days in store-bought-is-fine pickle brine.

Never throw out brine after you eat all the pickles; just dump vegetables directly into the jar with a big pinch of salt and wait. After you eat all those pickles, then and only then should you let go of the brine. Unless you have chicken to marinate, of course.

Tonight, leftovers. The spicy eggplant red sauce from Monday pureed and spread thin on sourdough pizza crust, topped with mozzarella and Pecorino. On the side, a blood orange Spindrift.

This year we left them in the ground. Lo and behold, most of them bounced back. They’re not quite as prolific as our other vegetables, but they have plenty of Summer left to catch up. So far I’ve baked them for a large batch of fish-fragrant eggplant*, grilled them for a tahini puree to be frozen and doctored later, and yesterday I pan fried them in olive oil for a sauce inspired by a recipe from the Bible, aka Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan.

It’s a simple concoction of fresh chili, garlic, onion, a splash of sherry, yard tomatoes and canned san marzanos, and beautifully oily, caramelized eggplant. Later I’ll wrap it around fusilli corti bucati pasta, top it with shaved Pecorino and black pepper. On the side, a blood orange Spindrift.

*Here is a recipe from The Mala Market. I used the one from The Food of Sichuan by Fuchsia Dunlop.

Last Summer, after four Winters cooking with freezer burned vegetables, I decided I’d rather take on some extra work up front instead of my regular, monotonous blanch ‘n’ bag. I absolutely hoarded every jar in sight and filled them with soups, stocks, salsas, sauces, purees, compotes, pestos, etc. When January came, I’d never felt so cared for. Dinner was always decided, half done, fresh as the day I made it and easy to clean up. What a way to hibernate! This year I chose the same processing approach, though perhaps with a bit too much fervor.

Growing season is far from over and my shelves are basically empty. Every single 8 ounce jar I have ever met it is already in the freezer. Only four soup-sized Weck jars and three mini delis remain. Part of me says, oh screw it, just rest a while and let it go. Another part screams, SYSTEMICALLY WORK THROUGH THE JARS FILLED WITH PLANTS YOU GROW AGAIN IN THE FALL!! I think you know which one emerged victorious.

Tonight, kale pesto: a simple concoction of blanched leafy greens, parsley, olive oil and garlic wrapped around fusilli corti bucati pasta. I’ll fold in a splash of cashew cream, a few white beans and a little Pecorino before I transfer it into my favorite vessel, buttered of course. A crown of mozzarella and quick broil. On the side, lemon Spindrift.

P.S. If you’re not following me on the Substack app, do! I often share photos of baked goods and weird mocktails.

On Sunday night I mixed the dough, my standard lazy 80% hydration, 10% rye with a hit of sourdough discard and LOTS of salt, two stretch and folds. After a 24 hour rest in the fridge, I filled it letterfold style with homemade red sauce that I cooked down for 45 minutes to eliminate any extra moisture. After the final proof in a quarter sheet pan, I dimpled in halved sungold tomatoes and fat cubes of low moisture mozzarella, drizzled on oil, then popped it in the oven at 430F for 25 minutes. When it was golden brown and the cheese was starting to caramelize, I hit it with just a touch of salted garlic butter and a little finely grated Pecorino.

Should you try this at home, please know: as tempting as it is to eat hot out of the oven, it needs time to cool down and let some steam escape. Fresh it was a bit like stromboli. 30 minutes after we ate, it was perfect. I will definitely be baking focaccia pizza again with tweaks to turn it into an actual, reliable recipe. Tonight we’re having the leftovers with a simple cucumber, red onion and mint salad in red wine vinegar dressing. On the side, a lemon Spindrift.

I harp on this theory so much we hardly ever eat out or order in. When we do, I am often disappointed. But even I need a break from cooking once in a blue moon.

E has overpaid for a very plain (though admittedly quite good) large slab of focaccia covered in red sauce and parm from a local restaurant. Tonight we’re eating it alongside a yard cucumber salad tossed with red wine vinaigrette, mint, dried apricots and crispy shallots. Yuzu mandarine Spindrift on the side.

I’ve been “practicing” homemade corn tortillas for more than a year. Quotation marks because I’ve been making maybe five tortillas total each month. An amount that would put my 10,000 hours hundreds of years (maybe thousands?) from now. So yesterday I decided to up my game, if only a little— 10 tortillas each time I throw together a batch! A big, full, puffy air bubble is the ultimate goal, one which I must admit, I did get closer to by both seeking out new information and giving myself more time with the project. Nine out of ten got some degree of lift between the layers, some more than others, and all ten were perfectly edible.

Last night I grilled them into quesadillas with refried beans, salsa verde E made from some tomatillos he grew, and Greek yogurt on the side. Tonight I’ll fill them with fried halloumi, soft and smokey eggplant and onions, and pico de gallo lousy with lime juice. On the side, a lime Spindrift.

P.S. Did you know? When the leaves of your tulip poplar start to turn yellow in Tennessee you’re allowed to buy a box of Trader Joe’s maple leaf cookies and eat them with a glass of soy milk after dinner. Those are the rules and they’re very official.

Side one: fat slices of heirloom tomato from the garden, sprinkled with salt at the last minute. This one actually is incredibly Southern— my family used to serve it at our restaurant on a platter alongside chicken salad and datenut bread. A classic ladies-who-lunch lunch.

Side two: Balsamic glazed roasted green beans. E planted an astronomical amount of bush beans this year, both because they’re a great nitrogen fixer for the soil and because we somehow never tire of eating blanched and frozen ones during the winter. He just did the first big harvest of them over the weekend.

Side three: playing off the vaguely Italian nature of the beans, I’ll be making cacio e pepe chickpeas, inspired by a recipe in Shelf Love. I’ve already sauteed garlic in olive oil followed by a splash of sherry, then a nice pour of vegetable stock. Later I’ll add roasted chickpeas (unroasted ones are much too grassy in flavor for my taste), bring everything up to a simmer, turn off the heat and vigorously stir in a few pats of very cold butter. Finally, a big pile of finely grated Pecorino and freshly grated black pepper to my heart’s desire. Baguette from our local bakery for dipping.

On the side of all my sides, a lemon Spindrift.

With the arrival of August I can finally feel my head clearing. This morning I was able to focus long enough to want! How good is it to have desires! Well, one desire really: big fluffy-in-the-middle, crunchy-on-top muffins. With cherries and lime zest. The kind that is synonymous with luxury— still warm from a bakery and slathered in extra butter on the table of your East coast beach house in 1992, ya know? They’re a riff on the blueberry muffins from Baking with Dorie and I suppose they straddle the line between muffin and cake. Which is why we’ll eat them after dinner with vanilla ice cream.*

Before that, green beans from the garden braised in oniony tomato sauce, topped with feta and mint, served alongside oven fries dipped in tzatziki. On the side, a Shirley Temple spindrift (my new favorite)!

*Do you know about Lactaid?! E bought some after listening to me complain about dairy semi-intolerance for checks notes eight years. And can I just say, it makes eating ice cream so, so much more fun.

As always in early July, my Mom is staying with the puppy and the garden is on hiatus. E, with his charts and graphs and caculations, has managed to strike a rhythm where there’s a lull in vegetable growth while we’re away. Beets, brassicas, cilantro, alliums, and most of the zucchini are done; peppers, green beans, eggplant and okra are yet to fruit. Only tomatoes and corn persist, and there’s no shortage of friends and neighbors willing to come pick either.

Tonight before we go, one of the best parts of America: Mexican(ish) food. Have I ever told you E’s family was scared to let me try a taco in Norway for the first six years they knew me? They were right to be scared. I didn’t like it, not one bit. I wouldn’t even call it a taco. I hope I don’t see another one in these next two weeks.

I’ve made heavily seasoned and oniony refried beans, the good Santa Maria Pinquito ones. Enough to freeze half so we can eat nearly this exact meal again as a comforting welcome home. I’ll serve them on top of rice with Greek yogurt, our last ripe avocado, a squeeze of lime and pico de gallo I made from yard veg. On the side, a lime Spindrift.

This weekend is very busy for us (I’ll tell you why on Monday), with time to spare only for trashy food. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about holidays like Memorial Day, Labor Day and the 4th of July, it’s that my lonliness will only be amplified by not eating a hot dog. That’s priority number one for tomorrow at like, 6am: grill a couple hot dogs alongside yard corn and hot peppers. I handled priority number two, make a big batch of my favorite dill pickle ranch (kosher dill brine, Greek yogurt, TJ’s ranch seasoning blend), yesterday when I made slaw and buffalo tofu and oven fries for dinner. Everything will get chopped and go into a big bowl with chilled cavatappi, red onions and green onions. After, a blueberry galette with vanilla ice cream.

But first, tonight. The Ben Mims savory clafoutis. I think with pan fried zucchini instead of tomatoes, plus basil, parsley, Pecorino and feta. I’ll serve big slices next to a little leftover carrot and purple cabbage ranch slaw. On the side, a strawberry lemonade Spindrift.

What comes before it is more of a footnote in terms of how excited I am to eat it. But it’s also a necessity for health or whatever. I’ve made a batch of pesto inspired by the one used for Gruyere and mustard strata in Shelf Love. It’s garlic, red chile, parsley, shallots and blanched lacinato kale— all from the garden— pureed with olive oil, Pecorino and pistachios. When I get a free minute this afternoon I’ll toss it with castelvetrano olives and cute cavatappi pasta, then leave it in the fridge to get nice and cold. I’ll serve it with a squeeze of lemon and a lemon Spindrift straight from the freezer.

Tonight more zucchini, an ode to the iconic Moosewood Collective. I used the recipe for vegan tofu kofta from Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant as a starting point and I can’t say enough nice things about this wonderful, old book— an incredible snapshot in time of meltingpot America, a record of world history, and a feat of collaborative effort. Eighteen different people wrote wrote a chapter each!

This morning I finely diced half a small onion and grated a medium yellow zucchini on my mandoline, then sauteed both in olive oil with salt. When most of the water had cooked out, I added madras curry powder, mushroom seasoning, cumin, kashmiri chili powder, and a dash of cinnamon. While that cooled, I pureed about 1/2 cup whole soaked cashews with a block of pressed firm tofu, 2T nutritional yeast, 1T AP flour, 1T chickpea flour, a scant 1/4t baking soda and more salt. Baking soda is both a browning and a tenderizing agent, even for tofu! In the oven at 350F convection for about 30 minutes, baking soda will turn the outside of little koftas golden and the inside almost creamy.

Later I’ll serve them over basmati rice alongside torn mint, icy cold smashed cucumbers from the garden and what I think is mixed vegetable raita leftover from a takeout thali we ordered last weekend. On the side, a lime Spindrift.

Not gonna lie, probably gonna start my day tomorrow by making another batch of zucchini kofta for the freezer. I’m fine?

Last night we ate the beet salad I keep talking about. To make it you will need 15-20 small to medium beets, enough to snugly fill the steamer basket in a standard rice cooker. Scrub them clean and remove any stems/leaves/excessive roots. Steam for 25-30 minutes or until tender to your liking. When they have cooled a bit, use the dull side of a butter knife to slip the skins off and slice in quarters lengthwise. In a large bowl, whisk 1 Tablespoon red wine vinegar, 1 Tablespoon olive oil and 1 teaspoon honey with a pinch of sea salt. You may double the dressing if you like your salad saucy.

At this point I must pause to tell you that my favorite way to emulsify vinaigrette is in fact, a whisk. Not just any whisk, but the “piano” style ones you will find only at restaurant supply stores. Why it’s called “piano,” I cannot say. I can only tell you that the bountiful extra wires make hand whipping anything a breeze.

Back to business: add your beets to the bowl, followed by about 1/4 to 1/3 (measure with your heart) cup each julienned pepperoncini, roughly chopped parsley (mint or dill will absolutely suffice), and diced scallions. A small handful of golden raisins is a nice textural addition, though optional. Finally, break apart about two servings (that’s 50-60g) store-bought-is-fine pita chips, then as much Greek feta as your heart desires. Taste for salt. For most digestive tracts, this is best served to four people as a side dish.

Oh, I buried the lede! IT’S A PITA CHIP PANZANELLA!

Tonight, pizza at work. Tomorrow, a tomato salad I’ve only recently conceptualized but have been dreaming about since the first flush of color on my plants— also a variation on panzanella I suppose. I’ll cut and salt fat squares of heirloom tomatoes in a large bowl and let them release a bit of liquid. To that I’ll add cooked farro, lots of diced scallions, toasted peanuts and chili crisp. On the side, a lime Spindrift.

I started with two loaves of Smitten Kitchen ultimate zucchini bread, very deserving of its name, then moved on to a double batch of braised chickpeas with zucchini (though I stopped short of the pesto and cheeses so that most of it can go in the freezer). By the time I was done with both, it struck me that the plan for dinner tonight— spaghetti alla Nerano, which I believe has been officially renamed to spaghetti alla Stanley Tucci— involves quite a bit of finnicky chopping and frying. Actually, a lot of zucchini recipes do.

Tired from working my actual job and my garden job all day, I said screw it and committed to something much more rustic. Onions fried in a bounty of olive oil, an array of spices tied to no one place, tomato paste, vegetable bouillon, a whole bulb of elephant garlic and a splash of sherry to form an aromatic base. Two old potatoes I can only assume will be eager to drink up those flavors due to their own water loss. Carrots from the garden. About a pound each yellow and green zucchini, seeds removed. Everything hacked into the big lazy chunks, currently simmering in a can of pureed San marzano tomatoes until offensively and comfortingly soft. Later I’ll garnish bowls of my soup with Greek feta, herbs and crispy shallots from a bag. On the side, a lemon Spindrift. Zucchini bread with yogurt and honey for dessert.

No algorithm, no cacophony of voices telling me what to think, no clipped reviews. No staff picks even!! Just a pile of dusty old, unwanted volumes waiting for good ol’ fate to unite us. Maybe in the near future I’ll do a roundup of all my favorite finds, but for now let me tell you about companion cookbooks called Extra Good Things and Shelf Love. They’re relatively small, brightly colored and despite being written by the Ottolenghi Test Kitchen staff (for whom I have long been a fangirl), I was completely oblivious to their publication until they caught my eye in a used bookstore.

I’ve cooked from them more than anything else this year, with several recipes quickly nestling into my regular repertoire. From Extra Good Things, there’s the Pistachio Macaron Cake, inspired by a recipe from Noor Murad’s mom. If you’re feeding gluten free folks, I truly can’t recommend a better dessert. You’ll need a simple list of ingredients, a food processor, and a small amount of patience to whip the eggs. The result is tender and chewy, not too sweet, and keeps for days.

From Shelf Love there’s Baked Orzo Puttanesca, our dinner tonight. It’s a simple sauce and really you use any ratio of onion, tomato paste, olives, capers, garlic and chile you like so long as you put them in a 14 ounce can of diced tomatoes and about 1 3/4 cups water for every half pound of orzo. Tinned fish/anchovies are also optional; this will turn out heavenly with or without them. The classic Ottolenghi twist is of course, preserved lemon. Salty on salty on salty— you see why I fell in love? Bring the sauce up to a simmer, dump the pasta in, bake covered for 20 minutes at 425F. Add thin slices of fresh tomato, a spattering of finely grated pecorino or parm, then pop it back into the oven uncovered for another 10-12 minutes or until center looks jammy and the edges are caramelized to the point of nearly being burnt. I’ll be garnishing mine with lots of fresh basil and parsley from the garden. On the side, a blood orange Spindrift.

I call my used book collection our “home internet.” It’s already large enough that E had to put up new shelves in the kitchen and living room. At night I turn my phone off and thumb through photographs or cook from well loved pages, and more often than not when I have a question about cooking, my home internet can answer it.

Tonight I’ll be using a book I’ve been cooking from for years via The Mala Market Blog, The Food of Sichuan by Fuchsia Dunlop, to make Sichuan Sesame Noodles in “Strange Flavor” Sauce (Guaiweimian, 怪味面). I’ll also be writing Taylor Holliday’s variation in the margins because as Dunlop says “I have found this recipe to one of the most difficult to commit to paper, because I have enjoyed so many different versions of it.” A real cook where you are (and with what you have) dish if I ever saw one. Per usual I have sweet potato noodles, not alkaline noodles. I’ll top them with charred zucchini, crispy crumbled and baked tofu, fried shallots from a bag, and lots of scallions from the garden. On the side, a blood orange Spindrift.

I was staring at the zucchini this morning when my best friend texted me a photo of notes I had written in her copy of The Iliad (nerds) and remembered how much we loved cooking enchiladas with zucchini, black beans and goat cheese when we lived together in 2011. I neither have most of the things to make the exact recipe, nor can I remember the blog it came from. What I do have is more than a year worth of practice making corn tortillas. With mediocre progress! I try my hand at tortillas at least once a month, sometimes more, and in all that time have gotten exactly one tortilla to fully puff. To my credit, four out of five of them today did a little gasp.

Tonight I’ll stuff them with spiced, garlicky refried black beans, seared zucchini, and maybe some salty cold feta, then top them with a bright salad. Already I’ve shaved long ribbons of carrot and quick pickled them in lemon juice, lime juice, salt and sugar. Later I’ll add buttercrunch lettuce, pink radicchio, scallions, cilantro and pepitas. On the side, a lemon Spindrift.

Oh, and for dessert: more pavlova, this time stuffed with lightly sweetened Greek yogurt and frozen wild blueberries. Which is basically a protein bar. Don’t try to change my mind.