Arugula Fennel Salad with Pears, Pecans, and Pecorino

I think it was last Sunday that our heat first stopped working. We'd just gotten back from out of town, and we had house guests. D had made their bed, I was making dinner, and as I passed through the hallway to check on the mujaddara, I noticed that our vents were pumping bitter cold air. No problem; I cranked the target temperature up to 77, hoping the heat would kick in. Two hours later, no dice. I was standing over the oven warming my hands, our guests were asking for extra layers, and the needle on the thermostat was slowly sinking below 60.

Faced with a cold apartment and a dearth of natural insulation, I did what any sane person does, the only logical thing to do, if you ask me. I made a salad.

Ladies and gents, I present "Salad on a Heatless Winter Evening," cut from the same cloth as "Ice Cream in February" (a brilliant marketing ploy by the manufacturers of the cold stuff that's garnered mass appeal). I loved this salad so much the first time I made it that I've eaten it on three heatless nights since then. Inexplicably, eating a cold salad in cold weather takes the edge off that chill. Maybe it's the whole "if you can't beat'em, join'em" thing.

There may be nothing warm or comforting about this salad, but boy is it good. The fennel is crunchy and refreshing, offset by bitter arugula. Sweet pear slices, buttery toasted pecans, and salty pecorino (my new favorite ingredient) round out the salad. The combination is of the addictive, can't-stop-eating variety. Especially now that the heat's back on.

Arugula Fennel Salad with Pears, Pecans, and Pecorino serves 4, or 2 as an entree

1 bulb fennel, stems removed, fronds reserved 4 cups arugula 1 pear 1/2 cup pecans, roughly chopped 1/2 cup pecorino cheese (can substitute parmesan)

For the dressing: 1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard 1/2 tablespoon honey 3 tablespoons champagne vinegar 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spread pecans onto a baking sheet in a single layer, and bake for 7-10 minutes, until slightly darkened and very fragrant but not burned. Set pecans aside to cool.

Halve fennel, and make a v-shaped slice into the heart of each half to remove the core and stem. Using a mandoline or a very sharp chef's knife, slice fennel into rings about 1/8-inch thick. Slice pears into 1/8-inch slices as well.

Combine all dressing ingredients in a bowl or jar, and whisk or shake to combine.

In a large salad bowl, combine arugula, fennel, pear, pecans, and pecorino. Drizzle most of dressing over salad, taste, and add more dressing if desired. Serve immediately.

Curried Kohlrabi and Apple Slaw

Every year, sometime in late November, we turn on our heat, move the sweaters to the top drawer, dig up our tights and fleece-lined slippers, ...and stop eating salads.

It's silly, really. Once the cold sets in, and my cravings for fresh, red tomatoes are a faint mystery, all I can think about is stew and soup, tea and cider. Might a salad go perfectly with my black bean chili? Why yes, yes it would. Do I make one? No, no I don't. The chill kills my appetite for fresh leaves, replaces it with a deep-belly hunger for soy-marinated kale and spicy, savory pasta dishes like this one. But I'm right on cue. Around December, I suddenly remember winter vegetable slaw, and everything changes.

That's the beauty of slaws: they're a year-round staple. Bring'em to a barbeque in the summer, make one with the best of what produce you've got in winter. Use cabbage of any kind, but also broccoli, fennel, cucumbers, carrots, pretty much whatever you've got. Go Asian, Mexican, Singaporean, or fusion. The possibilities are limited only by your imagination.

Case in point: when two kohlrabis were included in this week's CSA along with a grab-bag of apples, the wheels started turning. I thought of the brand new jar of Madras curry powder, the unsulphered apple cider vinegar, and a wonderful slaw I'd devoured at an otherwise terrible restaurant (which I'd vowed to recreate, in part so I'd never have to dine there again. A fellow blogger describes the place as "what it'd look like if Epcot Center threw up Cuba." She's spot-on.) But I digress. The curry, the apple cider vinegar, the kohlrabi, the apples: they'd go really well together, it dawned on me.

And so they did. The curry powder turned the slaw an electric orange-yellow, which was pretty awesome. I've never gone Indian with slaw before, but after this successful experiment, I'll be doing it again for sure.

Curried Kohlrabi and Apple Slaw serves 4

1/4 cup peanut or canola oil 1 teaspoon high-quality curry powder 2 kohlrabis, peeled 1 crunchy, crispy apple (I used Cortlandt; Granny Smith, or any other crispy, not-too-sweet apple, would also be great), unpeeled 1/8 cup apple cider vinegar 2 teaspoons grainy mustard 3/4 teaspoon salt, to taste freshly cracked pepper

Heat oil in a small saucepan over medium heat. When oil shimmers, add curry powder. Heat for about 30-45 seconds, until curry starts to sizzle and faintly starts to darken in color. If it hasn't darkened after 45 seconds, don't wait: remove pan from heat, transfer flavored oil to a jar with a lid, and let cool to room temperature, about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, using the julienne slicer, slice peeled kohlrabi and apples (unpeeled, for color contrast) on 1/4-inch setting. Once kohlrabi and apple have been julienned, toss pieces to separate from each other (they have a tendency to stick together) and transfer to medium salad bowl.

Add mustard to oil, and shake vigorously to combine. Then add apple cider vinegar, half of salt, and pepper, and continue shaking until dressing is emulsified. Dip your finger into the dressing to taste, and add more salt if desired.

Dress slaw with half the dressing to start; depending on the size of your kohlrabi and apple, you may not need it all. Taste, and add more dressing as desired. Serve.

Coleslaw will keep for several days; the kohlrabi softens, but the texture of the softened slaw is appealing in a totally different way.

Summer Squash Couscous with Sultanas, Pistachios, and Mint

My newest hero? The Internet Cooking Princess. Have you seen her blog? I hope you'll clicking over there and check it out. The retro look is lovely, the recipes are top-notch, and her voice is funny and fresh. Also: she made up this couscous salad recipe, and it has become my food of summer.

I took a first look at this recipe and thought, yep -- this is totally something I would make. Hook, line and sinker, I was sold. But examining the recipe more closely, I noticed all sorts of little touches that -- how do you say? -- I'd never have thought to do.

Example: it all starts with a brunoise, a summer squash chopped into pieces so tiny, so evenly tiny, you'll be hooked on their cuteness. Also, she has you cook some shallot, but just for a scant minute or two. I always brown shallots, or caramelize them, or hell, use them raw. I never just cook them for a hot minute. But it works; the shallot softens slightly, but retains its distinctive bite and stands up to the other ingredients in the salad.

And then there's that whole cooked-pistachios thing. I remember when Top Chef-Stephanie made a lamb dish with braised pistachios a few seasons back, and Tim Allen raved that he wished more people would serve him braised pistachios. I was as puzzled then as I was when I saw that ICP has you cook the pistachios. I always toast them until golden, adding them to a dish just before serving so they stay crunchy. Admittedly, I did toast them before following ICP's instructions, because I know I like that intensified pistachio flavor, but heating them through with the moist zucchini and raisins softens them both texturally and flavor-wise to nice effect.

Lastly, and most memorably, Internet Cooking Princess understands the value of subtlety. She has you smash a couple of garlic cloves and let them infuse the dressing while you do everything else. The salad is balanced: sweet and savory, tangy and nutty, rich and fresh. It's just right; it's addictive. And considering I've made it once with regular couscous, once with Israeli pearl couscous, and hell, once with leftover spaghetti, I think I'm an expert on the subject.

Summer Squash Couscous with Sultanas, Pistachios, and Mint From the Internet Cooking Princess, via Food52 (but of course!)

1 tablespoon lemon zest Juice of one lemon 1/2 teaspoon honey Olive oil 3 garlic cloves, crushed 1 1/4 cup vegetable stock 1 cup couscous 1/2 cup diced yellow squash 1/2 cup diced zucchini 1 medium shallot, finely chopped 1/2 cup sultanas/golden raisins (I used a mix) 1/4 cup chopped pistachios Kosher salt 2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint Freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 350. Spread pistachios on rimmed baking sheet in a single layer. Toast about 10 minutes, until pistachios have turned golden. Set aside.

In a small bowl, whisk the lemon zest, lemon juice, honey, and 1/4 cup olive oil. Add garlic cloves and let them steep for about 30 minutes.

Next, bring stock to a boil in a medium saucepan. Stir in couscous, cover, and turn off heat; allow couscous to sit for 5 minutes, or until it absorbs all the liquid. Fluff the couscous with a fork so the grains don't start clumping together, pour into a large mixing bowl, and set aside.

In a skillet over medium high heat, add 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Add the chopped squash and zucchini, shallot, sultanas, pistachios and a pinch or two of salt. Only cook for about a minute or two -- you still want the squash and zucchini to be al dente. This just ensures they aren't too al dente, and all the flavors can marry before they hit the couscous. Set aside until everything reaches room temperature. (Admittedly, I wasn't so strict about this part, and added everything while it was warm. Such is the way with weekday lunch...)

Once the vegetables have reached room temperature, add them to the couscous and toss to combine. Remove and discard cloves of garlic from the dressing, and toss it with the couscous (add the dressing gradually, as you may not need it all; I used about half). Fold in the mint, season with additional salt and pepper if necessary and serve at room temperature.

Sesame-Crusted Tuna on Arugula Salad

Much as I love to serve fish for dinner, I return to my weeks-old whining about the heat. How are we expected to endure an hour of 400-degree air in the kitchen, followed by several hours of still-not-cool temperatures, just to get a piece of protein on the table? We're not, is the answer. We make a salad -- any salad will do, but there are lots of nice ones here -- and call it a night. But we both know that gets old. At a certain point, we start craving something more.

Here, then, is an entree that won't blow the gasket on the delicate balance between the blazing outdoors and the "little engine that could" of an air conditioning system. It requires no braise, no long boil, but a quick flash-sear on a hot stovetop, followed by a rest in the fridge, while you set the table, stick your head in the freezer for a moment, and suck on an ice cube hoping for that sweet, sweet redemption known as fall.

We're talking about tuna, rubbed with wasabi and coated with a mix of black and white sesame seeds, seared until it develops a crust to hide that jewel-pink interior. I'm being totally serious when I say that this tuna would be good on just about anything. I served it on a bed of arugula, dressed in rice wine vinegar, a little soy sauce, and sesame oil. Leftovers were cut into rice and piled onto sourdough toast. If only there'd been more.

To incorporate more of the tasty stuff that redeems this awful season, set the tuna (chunks, slices, whatever) in a salad of butter lettuce, corn, small cucumbers, and chopped red bell pepper. If you have some or none of those vegetables, just make a salad from whatever you've got. Put some of this tuna in, and you've got a simple, substantial summer lunch.

And with this, dear friends, I depart for a much-needed vacation. You'll find me with my nose deep in a glass of zin -- I'm going to San Francisco and wine country, and I couldn't be more excited. Not to worry: I've got a couple posts in the pipeline, so even in my absence, NDP will still have the goods. I'll be back in a couple weeks, with pictures and stories and, hopefully, some good wine in tow. Adieu!

Sesame-Crusted Tuna on Arugula Salad inspired by a recipe from Jaden of Steamy Kitchen and a recipe from Epicurious serves 6

2-3 lbs tuna, about 3 large pieces 1-2 tablespoons wasabi paste 1 cup sesame seeds (I like a mix of black and white) salt and pepper vegetable oil

1/2 lb arugula 1/8 cup rice wine vinegar 2 tablespoons sesame oil 1 teaspoon soy sauce 1 teaspoon honey salt and pepper

Put sesame seeds in wide, shallow bowl. Blot tuna with paper towel until dry. Season with salt and pepper on all sides, then rub wasabi paste evenly over top, bottom, and sides of tuna pieces. Place each piece of tuna in the bowl of sesame seeds, one at a time, and coat all sides with the seeds.

Heat heavy-bottomed pan (not non-stick) over medium-high heat. Add 1 tablespoon vegetable oil. When pan is very hot and oil shimmers, place tuna in pan. It will spatter -- be careful! Cook tuna about 2 minutes on each side; white sesame seeds will have browned, but in testing one of the pieces with a sharp knife, you'll see that it's quite pink in the middle. You want it seared on the outside, rare within; please, don't overdo tuna; it doesn't like to stay on the heat too long. When it's cooked properly, transfer tuna to plate or cutting board to rest.

Combine ingredients for dressing, and drizzle over arugula. Toss to incorporate. Transfer arugula to a serving platter, reserving remaining dressing.

Using a very sharp knife, slice tuna against the grain on a bias into 1/2-inch slices. Keeping the slices of each piece of tuna together, transfer onto arugula, then use a knife or spoon to nudge them into a fan or domino pattern. Drizzle reserved dressing over tuna, and serve immediately. (If not serving promptly, store in fridge until ready to serve.)