Maybe you guys are familiar with a certain awkward situation I’ve found myself stuck in a short time ago: a situation that usually begins with a train of thought the displays at the farmers market might inspire, somewhere in the neighborhood of “Oh this looks pretty! There’s always something delicious to be made with this, can’t hurt to take one along… right?”.
Ok, so it seems I’ve gone and got myself a rep. One fine market day, one of our usual farmer’s market vendors and I got around to talking about the fruity seasons changing from berries to stone fruit, which ones are about ready to be harvested in his orchards and all that jazz. Of course the conversation quickly changed to recipe-talk and he caught on to my penchant for using his fruit, along with his veggies, in a slightly unusual, savory context rather than going with the “normal”.
With Summer comes, of course, outdoor-food season! Garden parties, picknicks, impromptu gatherings at a fireplace of one sort of another – most of the time, there’s hot coals, cold drinks and lots of meat involved. Good times~!
Hell-week is over and we’ve settled at the perfect-summer “hot during the day, cool at night” combo! Now this could go on for a couple of months, if I had to say anything in the matter… Oh well. Even though the temperatures might allow a couple of minutes in the kitchen right now, having a handful of edible aces up your sleeves for the really hot days never hurts, so I’ll stick to the general topic of “minimal stove-time” yummies, as promised.
Oh yes~! Summer’s here and not willing to take prisoners. Getting anything down at 35°C during lunchtime is starting to be just as unappealing as skipping lunch altogether. There’s one thing though, that always works in situations like these. Quickly made, easily carried around and, in most cases, very healthy and satisfying: Cold soups.
You guys might have noticed that I’m a big fan of salads as main dishes, especially during the 10°C-and-above time of the year. So, of course, I’m always on the lookout for new and exciting combinations of ingredients to be used in a salady kind of context. When you’re skimming salad options on restaurant menus, in cookbooks or during shows on TV, you can’t help but notice the ever-present named classics – Waldorf, Caesar and the rest of the gang – and tip your hat to whoever invented them, since they’re still alive, kicking and delicious.
My tastebuds have a penchant for demanding several things at once every once in a while, not caring whether whatever cravings they impose on me match eachother or not. This time, however, the “fresh and lively”, “lamb”, “very veggie” and “Spring appropriate” bones they tossed me, very conveniently lined up into a delicious soup perfectly fitting into this time of the year~!
It’s time~! Time for hubby and me to shamelessly overindulge in one of Spring’s most wonderful products, our region’s prized asparagus! Countless ways to prep and serve them – all of them rather healthy, even with the occasional drop of Hollandaise – ranging from simple every-day quick-fixes to wow-your-crowd or lover’s-dinner stunners.
Is there a better, gentler, or more mood-lifting way to be nudged to awareness after a good night’s sleep than by having fragrant wisps of freshly baked bread playing around your nose, throwing out a delicious lure and drawing you kitchen-ward? I know, I can’t stay in bed for long with that kind of incentive to get up~!
As we were returning back home from our short winter escape to Sylt, basically crossing the country in a vertical line of about 800km, the progress of Spring nosing its way in couldn’t have been more obvious. The further south we got, the – for lack of a better word – juicier the landscape appeared to get. What started with miniature yarnballs stalking their equally fluffy mommy-yarnballs and merrily playing sheep-catch between blossoming heather shrubs in the northern regions, quickly turned into foresty areas sporting a first hint of green, violently colorful patches of crocus breaking up the still-dominant dullish brown here and there and, of course, the… well, juicy brown of freshly turned soil on the fields.