The Cartoon Kitchen: Asparagus with Black Beans
This week's Cartoon Kitchen features Serious Eats' cartoonist in residence Larry Gonick's spin on asparagus. —Ed Levine

This week's Cartoon Kitchen features Serious Eats' cartoonist in residence Larry Gonick's spin on asparagus. —Ed Levine

I’ve been on a little cauliflower kick lately and just couldn’t turn down the possibility of what was essentially cauliflower mashed potatoes. Yep, it’s a holdout from the low-carb craze. But I didn’t care if it was healthy; I just wanted to see if it was worth it. I found the recipe in Ted Allen’s The Food You Want to Eat, and even he seems a little ashamed of it, regardless of the fact that it ended up being delicious.
And he’s right, the cauliflower puree never feels like a mashed potato rip-off. Instead it makes an earthier offering that’s perfect with lighter dishes like fish. To spruce up things Ted advises a few possible additions. He likes to add curry powder, English mustard, blue cheese or parmesan. I settled on the last item, adding huge grated handful at the very end. It won’t replace mashed potatoes on the Thanksgiving table, but might provide a lighter side to some grilling sessions.

Gordon Ramsay’s In the Heat of the Kitchen has been fun to look through, but I haven’t really been able to put it to much use. Most of the recipes seem rather complex for a hectic weekday night. So I was a little surprised to find this quick little broccoli recipe stuck between “Caramelized baby onions with beet jus” and “corn fritters with lime crème fraîche." With only eight ingredients, seven of which I had already, this proved to be a perfectly practical side.
While the crisp garlic is fun and those onions sure do add a lot of sweetness, what really separates this dish from a standard accompaniment is the oyster sauce. It somehow binds all the ingredients and transforms this into an interesting side dish worth paying attention to. It’s such a simple addition, too. This, of course, all depends on whether you have oyster sauce just hanging around the fridge ready to go in to random dishes. I do. Its cost is so small, and it keeps surprising me with dishes like this one.

When I pulled this from the oven, I was livid. Both the cauliflower and capers came out looking awfully disappointing. And by “awfully disappointing,” I mean “burnt." I just couldn’t believe Martha Stewart, of all people, would construct such a disastrous mess of a recipe. I mean, you all can see this, right? Those little black balls are the capers. I almost chucked it right there.
Ends up all those crispy black bits are full-flavored goodness. I really should have known better. I had no use for cauliflower until I learned that it gets this wonderful nutty aroma when you roast the hell out of it. And this caper-assisted recipe is even easier than the curried version I had made before. The fiancée actually finished this before the meat course, forking up all those little black bits as quickly as possible.
This week's Cartoon Kitchen features Serious Eats' cartoonist in residence Larry Gonick's spin on turnips. —Ed Levine

Italians have an undeserved reputation for hammering vegetables to a fault, an accusation most often leveled at us by the" tender-crisp" camp. While I agree that cooking vegetables to the point of disintegration can be yucky, I think undercooked veggies are an insult to the vegetal world. Too many fine, deserving vegetables suffer an inconsequential position in a meal by being left in a slightly crisp state of unfulfilled flavor that no sauce can rescue.
Asparagus are the perfect example of a vegetable that needs a good long hammering (ahem) in a hot oven. Sorry, fans of tender-crisp, but I really dislike waterlogged, boiled asparagus, and steaming them renders them equally tasteless. If you don't believe me, bite into a "tender-crisp," steamed asparagus spear—no cheating with mayo, please—and tell me if any fireworks go off.
Spring vegetables are beginning to appear in the produce aisle—asparagus, sugar snap peas—so I wanted to take advantage. What I found is one of those absurdly simple recipes that you think just won't work. Or at least, that's what I was thinking. Really? I can just sauté some shallots and garlic, add stock and rice, simmer for awhile, then toss in crunchy delicious vegetables? And it will taste clean, healthy, filling, and delicious? Well, yes, that's the idea.

Mothers & Menus is a New York City meal delivery service designed for families living through those first few crazy weeks with a new baby. Its founder, Karen Gurwitz, was frustrated after the birth of her first child: she wanted to lose her pregnancy weight, but since she was breastfeeding she worried about cutting out too many calories. Wouldn’t it be great, she thought, if someone else would figure out what she should eat and deliver it to her every morning? Such a service didn’t exist, so she invented it and committed to using whole and organic foods as much as possible.
Mothers & Menus sounds wonderful and flexible. But if it doesn’t fit into your budget (it certainly doesn’t jibe with mine) and you like making your own food (as I do), you might want to take a look instead at Gurwitz’s cookbook, The Well-Rounded Pregnancy Cookbook.

The cluttered and dusty used bookstore on my block has become one of my favorite haunts, mostly for a sometimes campy and ever-revolving selection of old cookbooks. The Myra Breckenridge Cookbook displayed in the window last week made me laugh right out loud, but inside I found an even greater treasure—an old copy of Elizabeth David's Italian Food. It is impossible not to be inspired by David's evocative and vivid writing style, and thumbing through the dog-eared volume while imagining her travels through Italy in the early 1950s has become my new afternoon ritual.
The pages recently fell open to reveal her recipe for Carrots in Marsala; it instantly seemed so mouthwatering I had no choice but to head straight for the market.
It wasn’t until recently that I realized the term "risotto" could be applied to all sorts of dishes that didn’t have an ounce of rice involved. It’s a liberating idea in theory, but one I haven’t really followed through with in practice. Although I never thought turnips would be the gateway, we actually picked this recipe because of the turnips, not the risotto tag. The fiancée and I just came to the conclusion that we probably hadn’t ever bought turnips before. It was about time.
Halfway through preparing this recipe, I predicted disaster. It didn’t smell that wonderful, and all that oil looked excessive. The resulting dish was a tad heavy, but I suppose that all rice-based risottos are, too. Luscious, warming, and filling probably give a better description. It's yet another Mario Batali recipe that seems a little too simple until it hits the plate.
The fiancée and I have something for sweet potatoes, especially in fry form. We like them fried or baked, crisp or soggy. They are such an odd twist on an old standby, and they work more often than not. So I was quickly sold on this recipe, which presented not only big fat sweet potato fries but an interesting-looking sauce with lots of lime.
I suppose it’s a side dish, but we just dumped the wedges into a large bowl and went at them without any thought of a main course. It might not seem healthy attacking a large greasy stack of French fries, but these are baked, and the yogurt sauce felt light and satisfying. It succeeds because of the play between the pungent, earthy seasonings and the quick, zippy sauce. Either way, it’s another adaptation from Martha. And for that we thank her.

Here’s another one of those green bean dishes I’m so fond of, and yet another pick adapted from Saveur. But what caught my eye wasn’t necessarily either of those two things: It was the honey.
I got so sidetracked with thoughts of runny honey that I didn’t even notice that I’d have quartered pieces of radishes amongst it all. It’s not that I loath the veggie. When fresh, it has a wonderful peppery note that might be perfect on a salad or a shrimp taco. I just worried that the veggie would meddle with the glorious golden sweetness.
But a funny thing happened when I cooked the radish. It lost all of that fresh bite, and picked up some wonderful round notes. Instead of one of the ingredients hogging the spotlight, they all played nicely together. In fact, the honey faded into the background, making this a more savory dish than a sweet one. The original recipe uses chili honey, an ingredient I didn’t have on hand. But a sprinkling of red pepper flakes seemed to work well enough.
Today's Cook the Book recipe (adapted from Cook with Jamie by Jamie Oliver) is a slow-cooked leek dish that delivers the true flavor of the vegetable by asking you to keep the leeks whole while still finely slicing up the outer layers for an ultra leeky hit. Oliver says it's a great dish for dinner parties or to serve alongside a Sunday roast.
I wasn’t event thinking about the side dish. My mind was focused on that cranberry-chipotle sauce and the protein it was going to drip all over, when I casually tossed the idea to the fiancée that we should eat something green. Since I was so completely busy to have anything to do with it, I suggested strongly that she take care of the entire process herself. I could be bothered. She calmly looked something up, got all the ingredients together, and whipped this up before I could even question what the dish was. Serves me right.
This all goes back to my realization to that the quickest and easiest way to heap a ton of flavor on some off season vegetables is to toss them with a vinaigrette. It takes approximately 30 seconds, but can make even some pretty normal green beans taste downright exotic. That probably has a lot to do with the sesame oil, and sesame seeds, which we had, for some reason, hanging out in the kitchen. Not spectacular, but, then again, not shabby for a weeknight meal that was put together in 30 minutes.
I’ve been stashing Fresh Food Fast on my crowded book shelf for ages, incurring pesky library fees, and generally not getting much from the interaction. It’s okay, not every cookbook needs lights my fire, but I had had hopes about his one. The very descriptive title seemed like a perfect fit for me and my quick cooking. But I just kind of forgot about it. Maybe it was the library fee that reminded me, but I finally was able to peak through and find some recipes.
This one immediately popped because I needed something light and fresh to side up to a steak. Now, the book also happens to be about the wonders of vegetarianism, so I don’t know how the author would feel about such a set up. But it worked very well. In fact, the salad bowl was finished before we could even attempt to finish the steak, one of the first times that has ever happened. The chives and mint really are a remarkable pair, and the very little oil makes it an obscenely healthily one, too.
I've been in the market for a good vegetable soup recipe, and this one looks like it fits the bill. It's got plenty of vegetables and even works in corn and potatoes, both of which I love in soups (though I don't recall the last time I've ever had them both in one soup bowl). And maybe the best part of this recipe is that it manages to work in chorizo while still maintaining its "healthy" label. Talk about healthy and delicious.
You could probably skip the chorizo, but if you're doing so to try to follow a vegetarian diet, there's no pointthis recipe calls for chicken stock as a base.
This week's Cartoon Kitchen features Serious Eats' cartoonist in residence Larry Gonick's spin on braised fennel. —Ed Levine

And here's the first of the recipes from Mollie Katzen's The Vegetable Dishes I Can't Live Without. I've been craving brussels sprouts after having had an appetizer similar to this one recently. Here, Katzen combines the sprouts with shallots and hazelnuts. Katzen advises readers to blanch the hazelnuts by roasting them in a 250°F oven on a shallow tray, for 5 to 10 minutes. Let them cool and then rub off the skins with your fingers or a clean kitchen towel.

I try to skip the Market Report by Laura Avery if at all possible. It’s the first segment in KCRW’s Good Food, a fantastic podcast I listen to every week (I suppose it is on the radio, too). I skip it not because it’s particularly uninteresting, but because I get lost in the explanations about food that is in season about, oh, 2,258 miles from my Midwestern home. Really, I’ve got nothing against her. But, last week the effort required to fast forward wasn’t worth it, and nary a minute into the segment, interviewee Mark Peel (chef at Campanile) dropped a recipe for balsamic glazed brussels sprouts that sounded a little too perfect.
The brussels sprouts were sautéed quickly, doused in copious amounts of balsamic vinegar, and then roasted until the vinegar condensed into a glorious syrup that coated every inch of the vegetables. I was sold. All I had to do was make the call for the fiance to pick up some brussels sprouts (which are apparently in season) and some cheap balsamic vinegar (no need to ruin the good stuff). It’s dead simple, and can be turned out in less than a half hour.

This easy water chestnuts, sugar snap peas, and shiitakes recipe by Jean-Georges Vongerichten combines the textures of crunchy water chestnut and snap peas with soft shiitake mushrooms and is simply flavored with ginger, soy sauce, and salt. Serve it as a side a meaty entrée or as a vegetarian friendly dish accompanied by a steaming bowl of rice.
I know, this looks bad. Sometimes rough looking ingredients can be combined to create some beautiful looking cuisine, but this just looks like a few tubers tossed with some fruit and cooked for a long while. And, honestly, that’s really all it is. Toss in a little brown sugar, butter, and water for good measure, and that’s the recipe. Luckily looks aren’t everything.
I snagged this from the time worn Joy of Cooking, and what it loses in appearance, and more than makes up for in taste. Those messy looking apples lend a nice batch of acidity to the starchy potatoes, making this a nice Thanksgiving alternative to the classic marshmallow covered ones.
When we talked to Bon Appétit editor in chief Barbara Fairchild about the November 2007 issue of the magazine, we asked her what her favorite Thanksgiving recipes from the issue were. This brussels sprout hash, published here courtesy of Fairchild and Bon Appétit, was one of them. Here's what she said about it: "I want something green at my Thanksgiving table, and it's always brussels sprouts. I know my nephews are going to pick the almonds out of the dish."
Although Ed Levine is a self-proclaimed semi-homemadeoholic when it comes to preparing Thanksgiving dinner, he does have a few tried-and-true recipes that he can count on to make the meal less "semi-homemade" and just plain "homemade." Ed's wife makes pureed broccoli with creme fraiche "enlivened by Parmigiano-Reggiano" as one of the few green things on their Thanksgiving table.
Ambitious home chefs of the world: if you are considering culinary school but aren't committed to the hours and low wages associated with working in a restaurant kitchen after school, save yourself a great deal of money and invest instead in chef, teacher and author James Peterson's latest cookbook, Cooking.
Cooking is a friendly master work ("600 recipes, 1,500 photographs, and one education") on general culinary technique. Peterson's Sauces is the definitive book on that subject; this new book encompasses a much broader range of techniques, tricks, and tips while maintaining the same spirit of encouragement and calm authority.
Because much of what he presents are foundational recipes, Cooking is a great source for simple side dishes. Narrowing down which recipe to include in our Thanksgiving roundup was my only challenge.
Perhaps because the farm-to-table movement has improved the overall quality of brussels sprouts available, their image as a least-loved vegetable has reversed in the past few years, although the question of whether they are scary or tasty was raised in Talk this week.
Although I think they are delicious with only olive oil as dressing, brussels sprouts, as a member of the cabbage family, pair beautifully with smoky meats such as bacon. They are a staple of the holiday table, and Peterson's tasty take is a quick preparation that provides a nice firm bite next to all the mashed potatoes and soft stuffing.
The fiancée was all against this recipe from the get go. With thoughts of candied yams dancing in her head—thoughts not completely out of line, considering it had an optional marshmallow addition—she persistently asked if I was sure I wanted to make this. Why such hate? We’ve been eating such great dishes with sweet potato I bet she didn’t see any need to dump loads of sugary sweetness all over the already sweet ... potato.
I knew I was in good hands because I had Barbara Kafka backing me up. Her influential roasting book loves to set the temperature high—usually 500 degrees Fahrenheit—which also means these sweet potato wedges finish quickly. The heat also makes them nice and crisp, much like sweet-potato fries. And the glaze is just that, a fine coating that doesn’t overwhelm the dish.
It’s always nice when recipes come plastered on the vegetable I’m buying, especially when it is bought at the farmers' market. The instructions were simple: Cut the squash in half, place in a preheated oven at 375°F, roast for an hour. When done, the squash would have innards like long strands of pasta. Hence the name, I presume.
For some reason, I’d never had this before and was doubtful it would work. But the proof's in the bowl, I guess. The recipe mentioned adding a sauce on top, but I don’t think it really needs it. The squash is so flavorful that it requires just a little butter and salt and pepper to elevate it to a full meal.
Wait a minute...didn’t I just have a big leafy green vegetable with broccoli hidden in the title? Yes, but this broccolini is mighty different from that slightly bitter one. I’ll admit I didn’t know the difference until an infamous episode of little cooking show and one tall fella. But the poor guy has had enough grief over one dish, so instead of discussing the horror, I just wondered where I could find some of this stuff and what it should taste like.
When I saw it at the local farmer’s market, I decided to give it a go. This very simple recipe could be used interchangeably with any number of greens, including that broccoli rabe. It’s a great introduction to the different flavors this dish has. If you have some more elaborate recipes, I’d love to hear them.
File this under my long list of things I didn't know: You can sauté cucumbers. In fact, you can coat them in butter, sprinkle with nutmeg and herbs, and have yourself a very tasty side dish. It’s apparently a classic French dish, as well, according to Starting With Ingredients. I believe them now.
Now, I’m no stranger to the vegetable. Show me a plateful of pickles, and I’ll show you a good time. I was just looking for a novel way to use some of the cucumbers I picked up at the farmers' market. This won’t exactly win a fist fight with a cool, crisp pickle, but it’s always fun to find some completely different method to use ingredients.

For a while, it seemed like all of my carrots were going to the puppy. I’d buy bags and bags every week to quell his insatiable hunger. The recommended dosage of dog food apparently means nothing to him. The moment after he gobbles everything up, he looks up at me for more. And it's not, “Can I please have a little more.” It's more like, “You’re the meanest, most uncaring human being in history of the world. I will certainly die if you don’t give me more.” Instead of facing that every day, the vet suggested giving him carrots because they're healthy. So that’s what I do. I feed him lots of carrots—more carrots than any dog should ever have.
Anyway, somewhere along the way, I got tired of giving all my carrots to the dog and decided to take back the vegetable. I pulled out Aliza Green’s Starting With Ingredients and found this relatively easy glazed-carrot recipe. Tzimmes is a traditional Jewish dish of diced or sliced carrots braised with honey and, sometimes, cinnamon. This one makes use of ginger and orange juice, which created the glorious smell that filled my apartment. The dog was confused, but I didn’t share.

More green beans? I had lots of skirt steak left over from my Monday binge, and so I needed a little green to side along with all that beef that had to be eaten. These beans were hanging around, and I thought they’d complete the meal nicely.
And they are convenient. Since they are eaten cold, preparation can happen whenever. The beans keep nicely in the fridge for a day or two. The fiancée and I suggested saving some for a dinner party the next day but mid-meal decided it was a better idea to eat it all that night.
While the above picture makes these beans out to be as artery-clogging as the meat, that cream is crème fraîche, and it’s tangy and light. I originally couldn’t find it at my local grocer, and looked up exciting tales of making it from scratch. It requires buttermilk cultures and whole days to prepare. That’s about when I just caved in and drove to Whole Foods. They should have it close to the cheese section next to the goat cheese, and not by the milk, where I had first checked.
Most of the okra I put down is pickled, which means A) I don’t have it that often and B) I haven’t the slightest idea what to do with it raw.
I know about its powerful thickening properties and that it is used a lot in Southern cooking. So I when I brought home a nice bag of the stuff from the farmers' market, I pulled out my 1985 edition of the Courier-Journal Kentucky Cookbook (it’s a long story), and looked for some recipes for this interesting vegetable.
The one I found is apparently from 1946 and written by a woman (hopefully) named Cissy Gregg. She says: "The combination of okra, tomatoes and corn either charms people to the point where they'll roll their eyes around in their heads at the very thought of it, or it brings forth a grimace." Count me in the former group.

My fiancée was plowing through my old copy of Ruch Reichl's Garlic and Sapphires last week when she started rattling off the recipe to the above-mentioned dish. As she went on about the few ingredients, the short cooking time, and how delicious it looked, my only thought was: What recipes?
See, I’d sped through it myself about a year or so ago, but I must have skipped over the mid-chapter recipes like a bad high school student trying to read as quickly as possible. It was my loss. These recipes, now that I have a chance to go back to them, look fantastic. I will personally vouch for this one. It’s a purée of watercress and potatoes that looks like creamed spinach but is lighter and more flavorful.
I’ll read more carefully next time.

The world probably wasn't clamoring for yet another roasted beet recipe. But this one is stellar. It's a great alternative to the standard tomato-based bruschetta—and almost as easy. Plus, it lasts longer. My fiancée and I made a huge batch of this and ate it happily for three straight days. I'll repeat that: We ate beets for three days. Who should we thank for such a sublime appetizer?
Of course it was Batali. Who knew beets could be such a delicacy? This one has a few more ingredients than this column likes to use. But like everything else I've made from Mario, all the ingredients feel crucially important. I can't imagine cutting any component.

It’s not quite mashed potato season—I realize that. In fact, it’s been well over 90 degress here in the Midwest. But I scored some great sweet potatoes and had just found this fantastic-looking recipe from Cook's Illustrated. Unlike most mashed potatoes, this sweet-potato mash combines most of the ingredients at the beginning, leaving plenty of time to worry about other important matters, like cleaning up and what wine to drink.
It also mixes up the traditional flavors, forgoing brown sugar for a mix of red pepper flakes, garlic, and plain white sugar, while also trading the regular milk for coconut milk. It’s quick, dead simple, and intensely flavorful. Once the cut up potatoes are tender, all that's left is to mash them to desired consistency. I’m a lumpy mash guy. How about you?
Speaking of corn, today's Cook the Book recipe makes good use of the vegetable—along with two of the season's other usual suspects, tomatoes and cucumbers. The contrast of colors is as pleasing to the eye as it is to the palate.
The recipe, of course, is from Patricia Wells's Vegetable Harvest.
The hardest part about the stuffed vegetable recipes that I’ve tried is that whatever I happen to mix together—no matter how thoughtful the combination—has to come to together perfectly at the same time. Which, as I’ve found out the hard way, is nearly impossible when you combine meats, vegetables, and cheeses. I’ve had to precook multiple different items, combine them at various stages of doneness, and hope for the best.
Fortunately, this one is different. It’s the first time I’ve been able to really pour over the vegetable section of Larousse Gastronomique. The vast number of recipes contained within scared me away for a while. But this simple little appetizer is the perfect introduction. It helped that we started with some superb farmer’s market tomatoes, but it’s that egg that is ingenious.
The second recipe from this week's Cook the Book—Patricia Wells's Vegetable Harvest—calls for asparagus. Sure, it's just out of season, but if you can't resist this vegetable and insist on picking it up at all times of the year, like I often do, then this recipe, with its gruyère and smoked ham, is a nice way of augmenting the tasty spears.

This week's score at the farmers' market were a bunch of tiny little eggplants—all about the size of a small pickle. The proprietor said he preferred the taste of these smaller specimens, and that I would, too. Though they weren’t quite as long as the Japanese version, I knew that I’d have to look for my inspiration there, instead of from the mammoth, log-shape ones that take time to cook. And nothing says Asian flavor quite like Jacques Pepin.
All joking aside, the only real Asian flavor in this recipe is soy sauce, which probably makes this recipe as French as his accent. But it is good. I originally cooked these up as an appetizer but instead scarfed down the whole bowl before I even started the main event. It’s just another quick pick from Pepin’s Short-Cut Cook that manages to be suspiciously easy, even if it does look like a butch of slugs in a bowl.
Along with all the fresh farm corn our lovely guest brought us this week, was an enormous bag of bright green beans. These were far from effeminate haricots verts. Big Midwestern boys, these were mammoth and nearly bursting at their seams. Honestly, we could have done anything with these beans and they would have been good. But instead of using a plain Jane recipe, we decided to test the limits, albeit in a 15-minute time span.
If you can expect one thing in life, it’s that a Mario Batali recipe will bring the flavor. This one certainly does. Although the mint in the dish sounds suspiciously like the peas with mint that we’d made a couple of weeks back, it is actually the crisp red onions that steal the show here. I was convinced that I’d burned them, even though I had written consent from Batali. Ends up he’s right. Sweet, crunchy red onions are a marvelous thing.

I haven’t had much luck grilling corn this year. Because it seems like such an easy process, I went in blind and managed to disfigure nearly every cob that’s touched my grill. Too much good Midwestern corn had been sacrificed because of my utter lack of knowledge. It was time to get serious. So I researched, tried a few out, and then finally remembered something I’d seen at the Red Hook Ball Fields in Brooklyn.
This website certainly loves the place, and I’ll continue that adoration. I would have never, ever put this combo together had I not seen it with my own eyes. The vendor grilled the corn with the husks on until they had been scorched. Then he would remove the husks, grill it again until the kernels had blistered, slather it with mayonnaise, sprinkle the whole thing with a crumbly cheese, and then pour hot sauce straight on. The technique works—especially if you soak the corn before grilling it—even if the topping doesn’t sound immediately appetizing. It didn’t sound too promising to me, either. But it works, especially if you can find Cotija cheese at your local Mexican market.
Oh, and that nice young lady in the picture supplied all of the corn from her family farm. For this we thank her.

Call me crazy, but I didn’t know that if you heated whole chickpeas they would get crisp and pop. Most of the chickpeas I ingest come all puréed or in deep-fried balls, so I guess I was missing out on this phenomenon.
I pulled this from the The Herbal Kitchen, a gorgeously laid out book about the joys of using herbs in just about everything. I had also thought about chickpeas and parsley, probably because of the hundreds of falafel sandwiches I’ve downed. But the rosemary makes this a much heartier dish. Though definitely not a main course, it is an easy little snack good for those tired of the normal chips and dips. It even tastes good reheated, which you can't say about popcorn. However, like popcorn, it tastes better and better with every additional pinch of salt.

The last items I scored from the farmers' market were little globe-shape zucchini and squash. They looked cute enough to carve, and too precious to pass up. Though they were probably ideal candidates for a stuffing, I had no intention on turning the oven on. It’s hot—at least in the Midwest—so everything had to happen on top of the stove.
I scored this little recipe from Diane Seed’s The Top One Hundred Pasta Sauces, and it seemed like the perfect platform for these oddly shaped items. It’s just veggies, pasta, olive oil, salt, and pepper. She even scorns cheese. Ultimately, the squash and zucchini would have nowhere to hide. If they were as good as they looked, I’d be a happy man. It is hard to believe the veggies could carry a dish like this, but it turned out fresh, oddly sweet, and completely satisfying. Though a little sprinkle of Parmesan wouldn't hurt anything.

At the farmers' market this weekend, I ran across some bright, fluorescent-hued spuds unlike any I’ve encountered before. Sure, I’d had red potatoes before, but for some reason I had missed red and purple potatoes that were red and purple throughout. I also picked up some boring little white ones to round out the rainbow. I wasn’t quite sure how they would cook up, but I didn’t much care. I had already decided I was going to make a potato salad, and nothing much was going to get in the way.
I tend to find potato salads needlessly complex, so I was happy to find this vinegar-based one in Jasper White's Summer Shack Cookbook. It’s nothing really more than potatoes tossed with a vinaigrette, topped with some parsley and salt and pepper. I suppose you could use any vinaigrette you’d like. But this simple one from the book worked well. Oh, and those boring little white ones looked awfully plain, but they sure did taste the best.
Corn salads are one of my favorite dishes to serve in the summer, when freshly picked corn is readily available just about everywhere. Eric Gower's is particularly full-flavored and zesty, perhaps because of the habanero pepper he throws in. If habaneros scare you, substitute a jalapeño or an ancho chile, which are both much milder. Make sure that, no matter what chile is used, you remove all its seeds—they're where much of the heat is concentrated.
The recipe's title is being a tad modest. Sure, it is peas and mint. But that discounts the ingenious inclusion of Boston lettuce, which just compounds the green on green, with ... more green. You can use fresh peas, but frozen are acceptable, too—and it worked fine for us.
It was actually much better than fine. I served this up with a beautiful cornish hen, but all attention was focused toward the green. At the end of the meal, my fiancée and I were scraping the pan for any loose pea that hadn't made it to our plates. That doesn't happen too often. Tellingly, this great recipe came from Vegetable Love, by Barbara Kafka.
As I type this, I've got the Serious Eats copy of Michel Richard's Happy in the Kitchen propped open on the book stand on my desk, and I'm looking at a beautiful photo of his braised carrots. And I guess you are, too (right). I thought it was interesting that Richard left his braised carrots whole and created a little stash of faux carrot greens out of mâche. This elevation of the humble carrot spoke to me, and I thought it might speak to you as well, so it's today's Cook the Book recipe (after the jump).
Richard recently won a 2007 James Beard Award for Outstanding Chef for his work at Michel Richard Citronelle in Washington, D.C. Happy in the Kitchen, which you can enter to win here, was itself nominated for Cookbook of the Year. The book is full of other showstopping food treatments, and even if you never cook from it, the photos make for some first-rate food porn.