It was fun the other day when I got an email from my friend, Stacey. She’s a very busy mom with two young children, and doesn’t have a whole lot of time to catch up on email or read my blog, but when she did, she thought I might like to try this recipe. Great for a hot summer evening, she said. It came from a friend of hers, but originally appeared in the magazine, Real Simple, in July 2006. You need to plan ahead for this recipe (at least for me, I don’t always have on hand shrimp or avocadoes, or watermelon for that matter).

In the event you live in an area that hasn’t recognized the newest food craze – pairing watermelon with all kinds of savory foods – here’s your chance to try watermelon with shrimp. And maybe it’s the watermelon and onion combination that should be recognized too.

The salad is a cinch to put together once you gather all the ingredients. I bought raw shrimp because the already cooked ones didn’t look that great. Besides, the experts tell us that the raw ones, cooked fresh, have a lot more flavor. These came from Thailand, farm raised. I happened to have had some watermelon, even some limes, but I bought fresh cilantro, avocadoes and a red jalapeno. The dressing is merely lime juice, honey (I used agave nectar since it’s a lower glycemic carb), and oil. How much more simple could that be? Once everything is tossed, the recipe says to let it sit for about 10 minutes to allow the flavors to meld a bit. It was VERY difficult to let the plates sit for 10 minutes while it “melded.” I added some fresh corn (raw, scraped right off the cob) just “because.” It wasn’t in the original recipe, but I thought it would be a nice addition to the salad. My DH took one bite of this salad and went into summer nirvana. He absolutely loved it, and so did I. He said he couldn’t believe how good the watermelon went with the raw red onions – that was a surprise little combo in the mouth. This may become a regular on our summer salad menu. Thanks, Stacey.

And, in case any of you – whether you’re a personal friend or not – have a recipe you’d like to tell me about, that you wouldn’t mind if I shared on my blog – I’d love to hear about it. Email me at ctndt AT cox DOT net. I love hearing from my readers – no, I’m not too busy to read email.
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Some of the stuff from Charlie Palmer’s – the “farewell” brownie wrapped up in cellophane, matches, a biz card from the wine shop and their upcoming wine tasting calendar.

Yesterday was my birthday. Our family already celebrated my birthday (and the 4 other birthdays in our family in a 2-week period), so my DH said he’d take me out to dinner. We’d heard so much about Charlie Palmer’s, so decided to give this new restaurant a try. I give it a full five stars. It’s located inside the Bloomingdale’s store in South Coast Plaza. There’s an outside entrance also at one corner of the building.

This is a very upscale restaurant – the kind that serves an amuse bouche at no charge. Where there are several layers of tablecloths, including a silky, shiny one that puddled on the floor around our feet, and a variety of crystal glasses surrounding our place settings. The kind of restaurant that requires you to order vegetables if you want them ($7.00 per order, enough for two people). The kind of restaurant that has about 5 different people to serve you – one for water, another for cocktails, yet another to serve their fresh baked breads, the “main” waiter who takes your order, and lastly a busboy to clean up after us through all of our courses. The kind of restaurant that hands you another treat as you leave – we got a choice of popcorn or brownies.

First we were presented with a cocktail menu and their wine list. Now, when I say we were handed a wine list – well. This was in another league of wine lists. It was a tablet kind of computer (a flat panel type, measuring about 9 x 11 inches, with a stylus to meander your way around the different wine menus. The restaurant is associated with a wine shop adjacent to it, and they indicated that all the wine was charged at normal, retail prices. That’s a really nice touch! I ordered a blood orange mojito, since mojitos are a kind of favorite of mine. It was really, really special. The fresh mint, the just-right chemistry of sweet to sour (I asked them to use less sugar since I like it more tart). Dave ordered a Spanish grenache, from Las Rocas. He liked it so much he wants to buy some for our cellar.

Since this was a special evening, and we were anxious to try several things, we decided not to share anything (except the side vegetable and dessert). We ordered starters, main courses, one vegetable and one dessert. The waiter told us that the chef is a real guru in the first order when it comes to pork. Initially I was going to order their house-made pate, but having just watched a TV program last week about pork belly, I changed my mind, upon the waiter’s recommendation. My previous knowledge was that pork belly was all fat. Not so. I ordered it – “Crisp pork belly with melon, pickled onion and aged sherry vinegar.” Apparently the chef has a long cooking process for it – it was absolutely fabulous. Dave ordered their “Heirloom tomato and watermelon salad with arugula pesto, burrata and lemon verbena.” It was such a huge plate, he couldn’t eat it all. The yellow watermelon (which played a very minor role on the plate) was rubbed with a variety of spices and quickly grilled. The heirloom tomatoes were slices from several colors (red, yellow and green). There were a lot of flavors running around his plate, and the one bite I had was outstanding.

For our mains, Dave ordered their “Liberty duck breast, braised endive and toasted cumin.” I didn’t taste the duck – Dave had devoured it in a matter of minutes. It was exquisitely served. We ordered wild mushrooms as our side dish (they have 3 or 4 different mushroom preparations – they’re part of their “signature” sides). I ordered “Grilled Berkshire pork loin with sweet corn and Black Mission figs.” I couldn’t eat it all, so will enjoy the leftovers for lunch today. It was so succulent and moist, and I loved the combination with the figs, and probably a fig jus of some kind. I’d order it again in an instant.

They have an extensive dessert menu, and I was tempted, but decided just to try an order of their house-made ice cream. The waiter wanted us to order the sweet corn ice cream, but when he checked in the kitchen, he found out the pastry chef hadn’t made it yesterday, but had cognac and chocolate chip instead. Also two other chocolate flavors too. The cognac angle sounded wonderful. Almost as delicious as the ice cream was, what it was served in was almost as interesting: a triangular stand with 6 small cups, each mounded with the ice cream. It was served on a large plate with “Happy Birthday” drizzled in chocolate on the plate, and a single candle. Very understated (no singers, thank you) and subtle. All and all, a delightful dinner in every way. We will return, no question. Our dinner, including Dave’s two glasses of wine, my aperitif, all the food, was $150 not including tip.

Charlie Palmer at Bloomingdale’s
South Coast Plaza
3333 Bristol St.
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
(714) 352-2525
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For those of you who don’t write your own food blog, you likely don’t realize how difficult it is to photograph some foods. Notorious amongst the toughies: any food, absolutely any food that is brown. It’s blah. Indifferent. No pep or vigor to it. The trick is to get some contrast – light and dark, forward and backward interest. Color, etc. I do think about it when I’m photographing food for the blog. And then there are those times when nothing I do seems to work. Take this time.

We had salad for dinner. And yes, I have some salad dressings in the refrigerator (a store-bought mango dressing that doesn’t seem to go well on greens), and the lemonade one I made last weekend. It’s very good, and we’ve eaten it several times in the last 8 days, but it’s sweet. I wanted something savory. A quick perusal of my recipe binders and I decided on one of The Silver Palate’s staples – their Basic Vinaigrette. I’ve made it innumerable times, and always liked it. It seemed like a good fit for the clean-out-the-produce-drawer salad we had. (We attended our youngest grandson’s baptism today and had an ample lunch afterward, so we weren’t hungry for a full-blown dinner.)

I whipped up the dressing in a bowl – using my favorite O (brand) cabernet vinegar, and good French Maille Dijon mustard. I added salt, pepper, a bit of sugar (actually Splenda), some parsley (Italian) and then I drizzled in some Lucini brand olive oil. Using a whisk, I whipped until the dressing had emulsified. I haven’t looked it up, but emulsified means until it thickens – it’s when the oil and the vinegar come together and become one, like homogenizing milk.

All was going well, and then I decided I needed to photograph it. Yeah, sure. So, I poured it into a plastic bottle and did a couple of side shots of it (photo below). Blah. Brownish dressing, some smeared on the side of the jar. Not very appetizing! I poured it out on the salad, and took a picture of the salad itself. Great shot of a salad, but you would have no idea what the dressing looked like. After dinner I glanced at the empty bowl I used to whisk up the dressing, and snapped a photo of that. Perhaps more interesting than the bottle.
I’ll give you both, however. No matter what you think of the photo, the dressing is just great. Perfect for my mixed greens (watercress, some spring mix, thinly shaved fennel, radishes, celery finely minced, radicchio sliced thinly, and a bit of Greek feta cheese). We had some leftover rib-eye steak which I sliced thinly and lapped that on top of our salad. Okay, so I’m done ranting now about photographing brown food. Tell me you got the picture? Comments are always appreciated!
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It intrigues me, always, when I read a recipe and find some new or different technique. Such was the case with this recipe. It’s not exactly an innovative instruction, but normally you don’t cover a cobbler or cake while it’s baking. In this case, you cover it with oiled foil for half the baking and uncover for the second half. And this fruit pudding cake requires about 80-90 minutes of baking. That’s a heck of a long time.

Before we get to the recipe itself, I want to talk about peaches and nectarines for a minute . . . I know (because Carolyn knows all, tee, hee) that some of you, my good readers, who subscribe or use a reader, chose not to read my instructional pieces about how to buy great fruit and vegetables (I’ve done two so far – peaches/nectarines, and cucumbers). I suppose in the big scheme of things, I shouldn’t care, but I’m merely telling you, it’s worth the reading. Really it is. (If you want to read it now, just click on the links above to go to each of those posts.) I’ve learned things from the book this info has come from. In this case, when I was shopping for peaches, I remembered what Russ Parsons had told me – and I’m doing this from memory – firstly that peaches and nectarines are interchangeable, for all intents and purposes, (okay, good so far, so I chose nectarines) – then he said choose the white-fleshed fruit if it’s available (check), and choose fruit that has less rosy tinges to them – in other words, choose the more yellow skinned rather than the red skinned (I did my best, check). Once home, I placed them on the kitchen counter (check) for about 4 days, actually, until they were perfectly ripe. That day wasn’t one when I could use them, so I popped them in a plastic bag and into the refrigerator (check). It’s been 3 or 4 more days since I did that, and amazingly, they were perfectly okay once I removed them from cold storage. I’m a happy camper.

I haven’t done much cooking of late. No particular reason, other than I’ve been busy doing other things (like painting, for instance, going to my weekly art class, shopping, going out to lunch with friends, movie-going to see Mama Mia). And, we had lots of leftovers in the refrigerator. I don’t mind leftovers at all, and my DH is wonderful about eating them. In fact he rags on me something fierce whenever we have to throw out something. Alas, we do now and then. But our refrigerator, finally, is more or less bare. Well, that’s not exactly a truthful statement. If you opened my frig you’d find nearly all shelves half full – of bottles and jars of things that have to be refrigerated all the time (pickles, dressings, marinades, mustards, some liqueurs, crème fraiche, still some Devon cream leftover from the tea about 6 weeks ago, oils, jams, condiments, hot peppers, and on and on it goes). The vegetable drawer is crammed full too, as well as the shallow cheese/salami drawer. Of course, there’s also some milk, fat-free half and half, some cream, sour cream, fresh salsa, and lots of Greek yogurt too.

So, now we get to talk about the recipe. Sorry for the diversion . . . I went to my recipe trove and searched for something to do with the nectarines. Out popped this recipe. I adore pudding cakes – you’ll find that I posted a lemon sponge cake and a gingerbread pudding cake in months past, both really tasty. I’d never made a peach (well, nectarine) one. First I peeled and sliced (and measured) the nectarines. I took two little slices to taste – oh my goodness were they fabulous. Now, a slight confession: the original recipe called for 4 cups of sliced fruit. I had 4 rather smallish nectarines, and I thought I’d be lucky to have 3 cups. Actually, it was a bit over 2 cups. So, I halved the recipe. The list of ingredients, when halved, was difficult (I hate it when you have to measure 7/8 of a cup or 3/8 of a cup). So, the recipe you’ll see below is the full 9×13 size, since I didn’t think you guys would want to have to do all the odd-estimating measurements, either. I baked mine in an 8-inch round cakepan. I don’t own an 8-inch square pan (just a 9-er), so figured the 8-inch round cakepan would be a better use of the volume/space.

The recipe appeared in Bon Appetit, in August of 2007. It was in the column where people write in to ask for restaurant recipes. When I searched online for it, it wasn’t AT the epicurious website (odd), but I did find it at somebody else’s food blog. Before I made it I wanted to read what others thought of it. Several people who have eaten at the restaurant, and had moved away from Austin, were thrilled to find the recipe online (per the comments to the blog). Apparently the pastry chef at this restaurant is Asian, as the recipe on the menu is called Wom Kim’s Peach Pudding.

Remember, pudding cake is a unique chemistry – the batter separates into a pudding layer, and also has a second layer more resembling a cake. When this pudding cake was sliced and served, it didn’t have much ooze left (probably because I baked it too long). In this particular recipe you spread the batter into the baking dish, then spoon the freshly sliced peaches/nectarines on top. Once baked, the fruit has settled (mostly) to the bottom and the cake is on top. In my instance, since I was using a smaller vessel, I cut down the baking time. Next time I’ll bake it less time. You can see from the collage of pictures, the one with the shiny center is halfway through the baking – from then I probably needed to bake it about 30 minutes and check it with my tester in 5-minute increments. And next time I’ll know to make the full 9×13 glass pan full, and to have at least 8 peaches or nectarines on hand to make it!

The results? It was delicious (is that my most favorite word on this blog? sorry . . .). Ahem. It was very good, but I think the cake overpowered the delicate flavor of the nectarines, though. If you want straight, unadulterated peach or nectarine flavor, cut them up and serve with cream or eat out of hand. If you don’t mind the mingling of flavors (the cake part was a bit crunchy on top – which was a great texture  . . . I liked it, it was perfectly baked, a bit darkened around the outside edges from sugar caramelization, just as the recipe recommended). I served it with a small globe of vanilla ice cream rather than whipped cream – I wanted the cold contrast.
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Our newly replastered pool, and the view to the west.

In case you hadn’t heard, we had a significant 5.4 magnitude earthquake here in Southern California on Tuesday. At 11:42 am. It lasted for about 15 seconds, although the most severe portion was only about 8 -10 seconds, then it gradually faded after that. If you’ve never been in an earthquake, it’s hard to describe. It is a very deep roaring-wrenching sound first – you hear it initially, in the half second before you feel the earth start to shift. I was near a major beam in the house, so I didn’t move. Light fixtures swayed, the water in both our pool and spa began sloshing around, although no water lapped over the edges. (Ten minutes later the pool water was still moving.)  The wrenching noise continues. It feels like forever. It’s frightening, yes. The fear, of course, is that maybe this is going to be the BIG one, the one that’s going to bring down the house. Sometimes I run to a doorway; other times, depending on the severity, I’m frozen, in suspense, listening for sounds that indicate major damage. glass breaking, pictures falling and shattering, or worse. Part of the wrenching sound is the house itself, the structure, the beams and wood screaming against the bolts and screws, leaning from the nails that hold a house together and to a cement slab foundation.

People who don’t live here wonder why we’d possibly live in earthquake country. Well, for me, this is paradise. We’re some miles away from the San Andreas (an-DRAY-us) Fault, the deep, underground schism that the experts tell us has been caused by thousands of years of shifting ground, where the greatest amount of movement comes. There are many other fault lines here in California too, but that’s the major one, the San Andreas. We, perhaps, delude ourselves, that since we’re so many miles away from the Fault, therefore we’ll be immune from significant damage.

In response, I ask – why do people live along the shores of Florida, Georgia, the Carolinas, in known hurricane country? Why do people live in the midwest in the land of tornados? There are negatives, I suppose, about lots of places to live. For us, it’s earthquakes.

Did we have damage? Yes and no. Yes, we had some damage, but no it wasn’t major as far as we know. During the hardest wrenching when the noise was near-deafening, we didn’t even hear the cans and bottles fly off the shelves in the pantry just 10 feet away (albeit behind a stained-glass door). They landed in piles, some shattered – jam, jelly, salsas, oozing out on the hardwood floor and glass shards flew in every direction. About 10 bottles made huge dents in the wood floor as they broke. Sardines in a tin were hit with something which made a hole in the metal, so the area smelled of fish for awhile. Sigh. Dave made a quick survey upstairs – nothing major. Later I did discover about 15 books had fallen off shelves in my office upstairs. Drawers throughout the house (except in the kitchen where they’re held by a magnet) were ajar. No windows broke. No pictures fell off walls. But we had aftershocks for hours. About 2 hours later I was sitting at my office computer. The screen has a partial reflection of the window across the room. Although I couldn’t feel it at first, suddenly the screen/reflection began shaking. Concentrating, yes, I could feel the movement. We had several of those.

Our biggest concern was our newly replastered pool and spa. Fortunately there appears to be no change there; no drop in water level. The picture above is of our main pool and the view toward the ocean. You can vaguely see the mound of fog way out there, that usually bothers us in June, not July, coming in from the sea. [And yes, I know, I need to write up a post about our back yard . . . I’ve had a couple of people email me privately asking about the status of our leaning flagpole and our hill/patio/leaks. I promise, I will do it soon . . . just when I think we’re “done” with our back yard, something else happens, and we’re not finished with our 6 months and counting problems.]

The epicenter was about 15 miles away as the crow flies, about due north, in an area called Chino Hills. There, there were broken water mains, some ceiling falls, a Macy’s had to close because of water damage, broken windows in businesses and homes. But I haven’t heard that anyone was injured. Thank goodness.

As a native Californian, I read, years and years ago, a fascinating book called The Last of the Late, Great State of California. It’s a novel, based on an earthquake aftermath when the western half of California sinks in the ocean after the BIG one. It addressed issues (some immediate, most long term) that one wouldn’t think about. Huge problems. Financial and political mostly. I thought the author was brilliant in analyzing how such a big one would affect those left behind.

We have earthquake insurance for 3 of our 4 houses (2 homes we live in and 1 rental home are covered; the rental condo isn’t covered) – a very expensive proposition, I’ll tell you! But if we did have a big one, once we paid the huge deductible, we’d be covered. Most people don’t have it. I understand why, because it’s so costly. Life has returned to normal here, however. For now. Until the next one, which we know is coming.

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Once a month I get together with two friends for about three hours of Scrabble. The hostess serves, usually, some cookies, fruit and hot tea, even in the summertime. (Of course, the A/C is running, so it’s comfortable inside, but it’s part of our ritual – we have TEA.) So, I needed to fix something to serve with the tea – maybe something different this time. I scrounged around looking at my heap of recipes to try, and this one stood out – it required some Bailey’s Irish Cream, which I happened to have in my refrigerator. The recipe came from Cooking Light in October, 2006, and dozens and dozens of people who made it gave these high marks. Providing you cut them in 16 pieces, it’s just 6 grams of fat each. They’re very fudgy and chocolatey. The author cautioned readers not to overbake them – they need to be slightly underdone, so they’ll be soft in the middle. The recipe has been altered to 18 minutes baking time (my oven bakes hot, so I reduced it to 340).

My DH and I enjoyed one small brownie with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream after dinner last night. The photo is a tad bit misleading – the brownie is quite small – but on that small plate and with the globe of ice cream, it looks gigantic. It wasn’t. But certainly ample. The Bailey’s is very subtle – in fact I don’t think you can exactly detect it, but these are delish. Yes, I’d make them again.
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Every time our family gets together for a big confab, there are always logistics – the date, the time, who can bring what, and what’s convenient for which family, depending on soccer games, and traveling requirements. Originally our daughter Sara and her family were going to bring salad, but with the heat and a two hour drive, she thought that likely wasn’t a good idea, so we switched – she bought a big fancy sheet birthday cake (and tried to keep it out of the sun in the back of their car) and I made the salad, but used her recipe.

Although we eat at Soup Plantation now and then (their salad bar is par excellence), I’d never had their summer lemon salad. Sara had raved about it last summer, but somehow we missed the window of opportunity and it was gone by the time we went there. Sara had the recipe in her head: spring mix (“you know, Mom, that big bag from Costco” she said), pecans (“I make your recipe, Mom, for the peppered pecans instead), dried cranberries and gorgonzola and this lemonade dressing. She said 1 ½ cups mayo, 1 cup of lemonade concentrate, sugar and Dijon. That’s it. She didn’t give me specifics on the sugar and Dijon, so she added more mustard once she tasted it. I added too much sugar, I think, but it was fine. I found the recipe today on the ‘net, and it has more specific quantities and uses a spicy candied pecan. It’s a “copycat” recipe, so we don’t know for sure if it’s Soup Plantation’s version, although on the ‘net it indicates the recipe came from an institutional restaurant magazine.

It was easy enough to put together. The dressing took about 2 minutes to mix up. I did make my peppered pecans (took about 10-12 minutes, I’d suppose). After crumbling the blue cheese (I had that on hand, so didn’t buy Gorgonzola) it was a simple matter of tossing it together just before serving. It’s a delicious salad – everybody loved it – there was none left. We had friends over for dinner the next night and served it again, with the leftovers from the big family dinner. I still have dressing, and will make this salad again in the next few days. I’ll add some regular head lettuce to it, though. The spring mix is so fragile – I think the dressing could stand to have some more sturdy lettuces. After 5 minutes the salad is wilted, so really do toss it the very last thing before dishing it up. It’s tart and sweet and crunchy. A lovely side for a summer’s evening.

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Very rarely do I fix the kind of old-fashioned summer outdoor dinner menu for which our fore-mothers are so remembered – can’t you just picture them in their long dresses and bonnets, stirring the fire? Adding more wood to the indoor range? Whether they made hamburgers or not, I don’t know. Likely hot dogs didn’t come into existence until the last 1800’s. But the menus I’m talking about include hamburgers, hot dogs, fried chicken, cole slaw, potato salad, pickles, baked beans, strawberry shortcake and watermelon. You know, that kind of thing. Preparing that hasn’t appealed to me for several decades. The outdoor part, the barbecuing . . . all that’s just fine. I guess the food is just a bit too . . . uh, something. I’d be happy to have it at someone else’s house, but to fix it myself? No.

So, when I was planning our family’s annual 5-birthday get-together (we have five immediate family birthdays between July 26th and August 9th), as I mentioned a day or so ago, I didn’t want to do all the cooking for this crowd (ended up being 18). So we purchased ready-made Que and I made the sides. The day before, I made and posted the story about KFC’s cole slaw. I had made this before – and in case any of you printed the recipe – it’s NOT the same as KFC’s, but it’s close. Close enough? Well, only you can judge. I decided this time that maybe 4-6 hours of marinating is enough – by the next day the cabbage seemed kind of wilted. By yesterday it was over the hill.

Then I made a really nice green type salad I’ll post tomorrow from a recipe brought by my daughter, Sara. It’s supposedly a Soup Plantation version. I like it, whatever it is, although it’s also on the sweet side. I also made the oh-so-tasty watermelon with feta and mint that my friend Kathleen fixed for us last month. It was a big hit at this party – it mostly disappeared, and it’s so darned easy, and amazing how the combination of the salty feta and the sweet watermelon and mint is like a marriage made in heaven. I added more feta and more mint than Martha’s recipe indicated, as you can see from this picture.

And then I opted to make one high-carb side that just seemed right for the menu – baked beans. In my book there are two kinds of baked beans – barbecue type and sweet baked beans. Barbecue beans are more savory tasting. With things like onions, garlic, celery maybe, some tomato sauce perhaps, ham hocks or bacon for flavor. And probably some herbs or spices to liven it up. Baked beans, on the other hand, were developed in New England during the early frontier days of America’s founding. The early settlers must have found good land for growing beans, and they discovered the sweet syrup from maple trees. Combine them and you have “Boston baked beans.” Over the hundreds of years since, maple syrup leaned toward molasses (the early settlers probably had molasses too, brought in from the Caribbean). I don’t know any of these things for sure; it’s just my conjecture. Year ago I bought an old New England style bean pot (crockery type), and used it for a long while. I made baked beans in it many a time. I don’t recall what happened to it – maybe it cracked? People who live in New England and make baked beans regularly swear by the crockery style pot – they believe the flavor is immensely enhanced by using that vessel.

I’ll wager that I hadn’t made this in 20+ years. In my old recipe book, it’s written out in longhand, with cryptic notes (no measurements). Here’s what the list says:

1 huge can B&M baked beans
brown sugar
cinnamon
ground cloves
salt pork

Then, in red ink, I’d written in on the side:
Pineapple (crushed)

So, you see, although this little list comprises mostly ingredients for sweet beans, I added salt pork (from the savory side). Never let it be said that I prepared any recipe (except baked goods) exactly as written. I tampered. When I made it this time, I used bacon instead of salt pork. I added some onion. I left out the ground cloves and the brown sugar (because I thought the canned beans were sweet enough as is). Rather than keep them simmering on the stovetop, I opted to put them in the oven. And because they were quite soupy, I left the lid off. Probably a mistake. They lost way too much fluid, even though the oven temp was about 250. So they were almost dry and had almost reached the point of mush by the time dinner was served. I will say, though, that everybody ate them with relish – there are only a few spoonfuls left. Enough for leftovers. And you know what? They tasted even better the next day. To me anyway.
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I’m old enough to remember when Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) first opened doors around here in California. And for lots of years since then we never knew how they made their chicken (a combo of pressure cooked and fried, I believe I read or heard), how much fat was in the food (more than we’d like), or what they put in their fabulous cole slaw. We don’t eat there except on a rare occasion when I’m desperate, but every once in awhile we’ll go buy just the cole slaw, because it’s so darned good.

Over the years, though, the mysteries of the KFC’s calories, methods and ingredients were revealed here and there. I once found a recipe that purported to be KFC’s cole slaw, and it contained a lot of grated apple and apple juice concentrate. It seemed possible, since it’s quite sweet. But it didn’t taste the way I thought it should. Then some months ago I was sent an email with lots of restaurant recipes, and this one was included. The results? Good, but it’s definitely not the real thing. I think theirs is a bit sweeter, so sometimes I add some apple juice concentrate to the dressing, or some additional sugar.

When I make it, I put all the grated cabbage and carrots in a large plastic bag, make the dressing and pour it in the bag. That way I can roll the bag around a little bit to marinate the cabbage. It’s much better if allowed to sit for 24 hours, providing you have the time.

We’re having a big dinner at our house for 17 (actually 18 if you include the 11 1/2 month old baby) today, so I made this yesterday. Cooking for that many people is just more than I wanted to tackle, so we’re buying barbecued pork, beef brisket and smoked sausage from a local restaurant (The Beach Pit, in case you’re interested), and I’m making the sides (my old tried and true baked beans, a huge green salad with peppered pecans, watermelon salad and this cole slaw). The bean recipe will get posted, and the green salad, which is a new recipe. The watermelon/feta/mint salad I posted a few weeks ago. Somebody else is bringing appetizers, and we’re having a ready-made cake. Every summer around this time, our family celebrates a bunch of birthdays. Today is my DH’s, next weekend is mine, and two of our grandchildren’s, and the following weekend it’s our daughter’s. We couldn’t possibly have 5 birthday parties in two weeks, so we have a combined one.
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This is another posting in my series about fruits and vegetables, all using information from Russ Parsons’ book, How to Pick a Peach. Cucumbers, although available here in So. California all year around, are at their peak this time of the year.

What I Learned:

• It took centuries of breeding to get what we know today as an edible cucumber.
• Wild cucumbers (from the Himalayan foothills) were impossibly bitter. They’re all part of the Cucurbit family.
• Basically the flesh of all cuke varieties is the same. It’s the skin that’s different, and the fact that one or more varieties are grown with no seeds (the supposedly burpless, hothouse type). They are grown in “cucumber convents,” so that bees can’t pollinate them, which would create seeds.
• News to me is that recent studies have shown that it isn’t the seeds at all that cause indigestion. Actually, it’s the bitterness in cukes that causes the indigestion part. That bitterness is mostly in the skin and around the stem. Remove those and you have mostly a burpless cuke.
• The hotter the weather, the more bitter the cucumber.
• Georgia and Florida grow about half of the cucumbers we eat, followed by Mexico. [Mine were grown here in California.]

How to Choose & Store:

• Moisture loss is the biggest problem for a cucumber, so select ones that aren’t shriveled or wilted. If you buy the greenhouse type, cut off what you need and leave the rest sealed in its plastic cocoon.
• Seal tightly in a plastic bag.
• Use them quickly.

Parsons included two recipes in this chapter: Cucumber Gazpacho (some stale bread, cukes, sorrel, garlic and yogurt) and a Cucumber, Beet and Feta Salad.

I’ve only posted one recipe using cucumbers – a recent one – for Cucumber Soup. And it’s a really good one, given to me by my friend, Jackie. That’s what made me think of this – I have two large hothouse cukes in the refrigerator now and need to make another batch of that soup. It’s so refreshing since we’re having hot weather here in Southern California.

My mother used to make a simple pickled cucumber – in a refrigerator container she’d put in some water (let’s say about 1/2 cup to 2/3 cup), some cider vinegar (maybe 1-2 T.), a sprinkling of sugar (probably about 1 tsp). She’d taste it and adjust it for sweet/sour balance, add some salt and pepper, then pile in the thinly sliced, peeled cucumbers. The liquid needs to cover the cukes. They would sit, refrigerated, for several hours or overnight having been stirred around a couple of times the first several hours.  If you happen to have dill weed (not seed), throw a bit of that in there too. My dad could just about eat his weight in those. My DH adores these, and I forget to make them. Adding Splenda instead of sugar works just fine.

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