Sweet Summer

I'm not much of a sweet person. On any given day, I'd rather dig my fork into a big bowl of noodles than eat a slice of cake.

I like to think that brunch defines whether a person is inclined towards sweet or savory foods. We all know people who order french toast and pancakes lathered in syrup on Saturday mornings; that would never be me. I love eggs Benedict (bring on the smoked salmon), quiches, and plain old bacon and eggs (fried, of course). Did I ever mention how much I love eggs?

Every once in awhile, though, I crave something sugar-laden—and it's usually after dinner. This summer, the fruit was so amazing at the farmer's markets, it inspired me to make dessert.

So here I was, baking sour cherry and almond bread,

a blueberry-lavender crumble,

a peach and blackberry cobbler with almond crust,

and two fig and franginpane tarts.

I'm sad summer has slipped away—not just because warm weather already seems like a distant memory, but also because I won't see the jewel-toned fruits at the market.

Until next year.

Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'

One of my greatest culinary joys is taking a big bite of fresh, perfectly seasoned pasta. That being said, it should be of utmost importance that I learn how to create that experience in my own kitchen.

Yesterday, I spent the entire day making pasta with my good friend from culinary school, Amanda. We experimented with different ratios (semolina + AP flour, semolina + water, egg + AP, etc.), making a total of six doughs.

We discovered some keepers as well as some we won't be making again. Below was our favorite.

Nine Yolk Dough

1 3/4 cups (8 ounces) AP flour

9 egg yolks

1 1/2 teaspoons olive oil

1 tablespoon milk

Couple pinches of kosher salt

1. Place the flour on a work surface and make a large well in the center. Add the yolks, oil, milk and salt. Using your finger, slowly incorporate the liquid ingredients. When partially incorporated (not too runny), use a dough cutter to fully blend the ingredients.

2. Bring the dough together with your hands (it will look flaky). Knead it with the heels of your hands. Reform into a ball and repeat several times. If too dry, add a bit of oil or milk; if too wet, add a bit of flour. Continue kneading until the dough becomes soft and silky. Be patient—this can take 10 to 15 minutes. Don't worry about over-kneading the dough.

3. Double-wrap the dough in plastic so it doesn't dry out. Let it rest at room temperature for at least 30 minutes before rolling it through a pasta machine. It can be made a day ahead and refrigerated, but make sure it comes to room temperature before using.

We used the dough for two types of ravioli (arugula-Pecorino as well as fresh corn-smoked mozzarella). Both were amazing.

Originally, we were following a recipe from The French Laundry Cookbook, but Amanda and I changed it so much we think of it as our own.

Barilla, you've got nothin' on us.

The Right Stuff

Thursday, I purchased a last-minute plane ticket to Ohio for a family reunion. Friday, my flight was cancelled. Saturday, my rebooked flight departed for Cleveland. Sunday, I spent the day at the reunion. Monday, I returned to New York.

There was a bit of uncertainty during this short-but-sweet weekend due to the crazy weather pattern, but one thing was for sure: I ate my weight in food. When I arrived in Ohio on Saturday, I inhaled a pile of battered perch and french fries (my grandpa's favorite combo). Of course, I ate nonstop at the family reunion the following day.

Who can say no to my mom's ribs, walking tacos (non-Midwesterners, please Google this), and loads of sides? I sure can't. I ate two heirloom tomato slices for good measure.

After the reunion, we grilled Slovenian sausages from the local butcher. I savored the moment, and then realized it was time to lighten up my diet.

I headed to my local organic market after work today on a mission to find the best-looking vegetables. I settled on summer squash and zucchini, stuffing them with onion, red pepper, basil and—yes—a little Gruyere. Delicious and nutritious.

Stuffed Summer Squash

Yield: 2 servings

2 medium squash (I used one summer squash and one zucchini)

1/2 sweet onion, diced

1/2 red pepper, diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

1/4 cup chopped basil

1 egg

3/4 cup shredded Gruyere cheese

Salt and pepper to taste

1 1/2 cups tomato sauce

Olive oil, for drizzling

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees.

2. Trim the ends of the squash and cut lengthwise. With a spoon or melon baller, scoop out the flesh, leaving 1/4-inch-thick shells. Save 3/4 of the flesh. Pour sauce on the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch pan and place four squash halves on top like bowls.

3. In a separate bowl, combine squash flesh with onion, red pepper, garlic, basil, egg, and 1/4 cup cheese. Season with salt and pepper. Distribute evenly among squash. Sprinkle remaining cheese on top of each and drizzle with olive oil.

4. Bake for 45 minutes, uncovered, until squash is tender and cheese is melted.

Here's to hoping this dish will squash my gorging—at least for this week.

Basking in Basque Country

My nearly monthlong blog sabbatical has come to an end. It wasn't supposed to be this long, but between vacation and packing both the office and test kitchen for a move, the days slipped away from me.

I suppose time flies when you're eating well.

Ryan and I traveled to Basque Country in Spain and France, plus a side trip to Bordeaux, for my 30th birthday. We decided on the area for its rich culinary heritage because, for us, a vacation is all about the food. The small town of San Sebastian, Spain, where we stayed for 4 days, has three restaurants with three Michelin stars (apparently there's more multi-starred restaurants per capita there than anywhere else in the world). The food certainly lived up to its reputation.

We hit up two of the three-starred joints in less than 24 hours (a birthday dinner at Arzak, followed by lunch the next day at Akelarre). Our stomachs (and wallets) were feeling it. Both were totally worth it, though—like nothing I'd ever eaten. While the pintxos (Basque for tapas) joints didn't have the molecular gastronomy show-stopping elements, they were amazing as well.

In French Basque Country, the food was (no surprises here) also phenomenal. If you're Basque, good cooking must be in your blood. It's interesting to me, though, how just crossing a country's border changes things. Case in point: While seafood remained a constant, sauces seemed to appear out of nowhere in France.

There's no doubt we'll return to Basque Country—of course for the food but also for the people. Until then, I'll be on the search for equally good chorizo, Iberico ham, foie gras, anchovies, pigeon and so on...

Coming into Bloom

I remember the first time I ate squash blossoms.

Ryan and I were in a small, outdoor café in Italy enjoying lunch after a long, hot day of being a tourist. It was late May 2008—our first big vacation post-honeymoon—and we ate everything in sight. (FYI: Not much has changed from the way we conduct ourselves now on vacation.)

I recall spotting squash blossoms on the menu and knew we had to order them. After all, they're not in season very long. Plus, when was the next time I would be in Italy? They arrived to the table, about a half-dozen on the plate, fried and stuffed with some sort of anchovy filling. A dish to remember.

Lucky for me (and you, too!), squash blossoms aren't only available in Italy. (In fact, they're heralded in cuisines around the world for their mild zucchini flavor.) I picked them up yesterday at the Union Square Greenmarket and knew immediately how I was going to prepare them. I removed the stamen, stuffed them with a teaspoon or so of Humboldt Fog cheese and a basil leaf, dredged them in egg and seasoned flour, and fried them in vegetable oil.

The crispy coating and oozy cheese were a perfect combo, bringing me back to that café moment in Italy.

I have about half the blossoms remaining, and I plan on putting them on top of a pizza with a bit of fresh marinara and some ricotta. Time to blossom out.

Pesto Presto

I have garlic breath.

Some might consider this a bit of a problem; I'm OK with it. Don't worry—I'm at home on my couch far away from crowds. Yes, I'll brush my teeth later, but right now, I can't get enough of the pesto I made the other day using garlic scapes.

This weekend, I experimented with the short-lived delicacy for the first time. If you're unfamiliar, garlic scapes are the curly tendrils that grow above ground as the bulb is forming underneath. The season is brief, so I suggest getting your hands on them as soon as you can.

To truly capture their flavor, I decided on a quick pesto.

Garlic Scape Pesto

8-10 garlic scapes, roughly chopped

1/2 cup basil, packed

1/3 cup walnuts, toasted

1/2 lemon, juiced

1/2 cup olive oil

1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Salt and pepper to taste

1. Place scapes, basil, walnuts and lemon juice in a food processor and blend until well combined. Slowly drizzle in oil and process again until well combined. Transfer mixture to a bowl and stir in cheese. Season with salt and pepper.

I used a good portion of the garlic-y, green goodness for dinner the first night, combining it with freshly cooked fava beans, chopped toasted walnuts and kamut. I topped the dish with a fried egg (there's something amazing about pesto and a runny egg—well, pretty much anything a runny egg). I've been using the leftover pesto to spread on whole-grain crackers.

There's only a handful of scapes remaining in my fridge. The plan is to quickly sauté them and toss them on pizza with some fresh mozzarella and olive oil.

Guess I'll be scraping by on scapes until next weekend—that is, if the farmers' market still has them around.

Grain of Knowledge

The results are in.

Last week, I had the honor of traveling to Wichita, Kan., to judge the 2011 Festival of Breads. The panel (which comprised me, a bread instructor and a bakery owner) declared Gale Collier of Redmond, Ore., the winner. Her recipe for Quick Raisin Granola Breakfast Rolls won our vote for overall appearance, ease of preparation, originality and, of course, taste.

That's not to say the other eight finalists—narrowed down from a pool of 500-plus amateur bakers' entries—didn't have amazing recipes. Really, it came down to the performance of the baker that day. Anyone could have come out ahead.

Sponsored by the Kansas Wheat Commission, King Arthur Flour and Fleischmann's Yeast, the competition was part of a day-long celebration of bread. The festival featured a booth selling fresh-baked goods; proceeds went to Share Our Strength's Great American Bake Sale to help end childhood hunger.

Prior to the competition, I was able to tour a working wheat farm, grain elevator and flour mill to see how the product finds its way to my kitchen table. The Midwesterner in me loved every minute of it—especially the combine ride! I'm always fascinated by the origin of food; I truly believe it makes me grow as a cook.

One of my goals this year is to expand my bread-making knowledge. Thank you, Wichita, for helping me get a few giant steps closer.