Kitchen Kat

A few weeks ago I faced an unusual culinary dilemma: What to do when friends drop by with two pounds of freshly picked chili peppers? On that afternoon I wasn’t up for stuffing, coating and frying the peppers for a fiery take on chilies rellenos. Nor did I anticipate making several gallons of spicy pico de gallo. Forget about hosting a scorching, week-long celebration of Mexican, South American, South Indian and Thai food. So, just what would I do with all these potent veggies?

For centuries cooks have faced a similar quandary. In Mexico chilies have been cultivated since at least 3,500 B.C. Thanks to Portuguese and Spanish explorers who transported these plants around the globe, Indian and Southeast Asian chefs started dabbling with chilies in the 15th century. By the mid 16th century Europeans had incorporated them into their recipes.

Although I normally associate chilies with heat, these early cooks added them for flavor. Chopped or ground up, dried or roasted, the peppers enhanced countless regional dishes. Ultimately, they became renowned not as a vegetable but as a spice or seasoning. Not much has changed in five centuries. They still appear primarily in condiments and are the main ingredient in such classics as chili paste, Tabasco sauce and chili pepper salad dressing.

Chilies get their heat from capsaicin, a compound found in the white membrane to which pepper seeds cling. Because they proportionally contain more seeds and tissue, small chilies tend to be hotter than large ones. Short, lantern-shaped habaneros and Scotch bonnets rank among the strongest. Long, slender Anaheims are among the mildest.

The only way to reduce a chili’s intensity is to remove its seeds and membranes. Remember either to wear gloves while or wash your hands after doing this. Otherwise, depending on the pepper variety, you may burn your skin.

By stringing chili peppers and making ristras, you can avoid the risk of burnt fingers and faces. This is what my friends and I did. Yet, if you opt to turn your chilies into a sauce, try Unlucky Thirteen Sauce. It’s guaranteed to be a fiery hit.

UNLUCKY THIRTEEN SAUCE
Recipe courtesy of Paul Oliver, writer, creator of the literary blog The Devil’s Accountant and hot sauce aficionado

1 chipotle pepper, found in the dried goods area of produce sections
12 habanero peppers (lessen the number of these peppers and de-seed to lesson the heat of the sauce)
3-6 garlic cloves, to taste
1/2 yellow onion, quartered
1 bottle of white vinegar
3oz (1/2 of a Cento can) of tomato paste
4 tablespoons of salt
1 tablespoon of sugar

Place the chipotle pepper in a small saucepan filled with water, place it on low heat and allow it to soften.

Cut the habanero peppers and garlic in half. Place them and the onion in a medium sized pot. Pour in the white vinegar until the peppers float or all the ingredients are covered. Add the salt, sugar, tomato paste and the softened chipotle and bring the entire mixture to a boil. Note that you should be wary of the pot as it begins to boil for the vinegar and capsaicin in the peppers produce an irritating vapor. As soon as the ingredients begin to bubble, stir and remove from the heat. You want to heat but also to avoid fully cooking any of the ingredients. By not stewing the ingredients, you will get a “fresher” pepper flavor and minimize the vapor.

Pour the sauce into a blender or food processor and blend on low. Be sure to set it on a low, especially if you are doing this with a blender. You DO NOT want to have this stuff spraying everywhere. Slowly increase the speed, mixing until the sauce is completely smooth. Note that, if you’ve left the seeds in the peppers, you’ll have to blend for a longer period of time.

Place the sauce in a glass container (mason jars are great) and refrigerate. Once cooled, it is ready to use, although allowing it to rest for 1 to 2 weeks is highly recommended.

*A FEW TIPS FOR UNLUCKY THIRTEEN SAUCE
Do not use aluminum pots/pans for this. The capsicum and vinegar will pit them.

Wash before, during and after this whole process. Do it thoroughly. You do not want to forget to do this.

Let the sauce sit. It really does get better after a week or so of sitting in the fridge. Be ready, though, for this smokey, citrusy hot sauce is not for the faint.

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Yeah, a cucumber.

I’ve never thought of the cucumber as particularly cool. Crisp and juicy? Yes. Cool? Well . . ..

Before I start rambling on about the hipness of this vegetable, I should admit that its coolness refers not to trendiness but to temperature — quite simply, a cucumber feels cool to the touch. Yet, this member of the gourd family offers far more than catch phrases and temperature gauges. Available year-round, it’s a staple ingredient in many dishes and a star in its own right.

Rumored to have originated in South India, the cucumber has been cultivated for at least 4,000 years. In spite of its longstanding popularity, it didn’t arrive in North America until the late 15th century. Christopher Columbus introduced the first cucumber to Haiti in 1494. From there demand for this crunchy, green vegetable spread.

And just what do people do with all these cucumbers? A third of the roughly 100 varieties grown are used for pickling. The rest we eat in salads, from crudite platters, in dips, and as garnishes or soups.

One of my favorite cuke offerings consists of chopped cucumbers, thinly sliced red onion, diced kalamata olives and crumbled feta cheese. Making this dish couldn’t be easier. Just toss the cucumbers and onions in a bowl. Whisk together lemon juice, olive oil and ground white pepper. Drizzle the dressing over the salad and then refrigerate. Because cucumbers are 96 percent water, you’ll want to hold off on adding the salty cheese and olives until right before serving. Otherwise, you’ll end up with something more reminiscent of a soup than a salad.

Salads aren’t the only simple cucumber dishes. Dress sliced cucumbers with yogurt and add either a little coriander, mint or garlic and you’ve made Indian raita, Greek tzatziki or Turkish cacik. Place wafer-thin cucumber slices between two pieces of buttered bread for a traditional English tea sandwich. Spoon a dab of creme fraiche or cream cheese, sliver of smoked salmon and sprig of fresh dill on top of a cucumber slice and you’ve got a quick and tasty appetizer. Puree cucumbers with avocados, garlic, and chicken stock and you’ll have a delicious summer soup, courtesy of Canal House Cooking Volume 4.

SHEPHERD’S SALAD
Serves 6 to 8

While salads aren’t the only way to showcase cucumbers, they still remain my favorite. This particular recipe can be dressed up with a bit of lemon juice and sprinkle of ground sumac or made more simplistic by withholding the Haloumi cheese. No matter how you choose to make it, shepherd’s salad is a refreshing offering that can be served as a starter or side dish.

2 pints cherry or grape tomatoes, washed and cut into quarters
2 cucumbers, washed, skinned, de-seeded and cut into cubes
1 small red onion, diced
4 ounces Haloumi cheese, diced
2 scallions, minced
2 tablespoons fresh mint, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
dash of salt, optional

Place the tomatoes, cucumbers, onion, cheese, and scallions in a medium-sized serving bowl and toss to combine. Add the mint, parsley, and ground black pepper and toss again. Drizzle the olive oil over top and refrigerate to allow the flavors to meld. Before serving, add an optional dash of salt.

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This summer it seems as though everyone whom I know has come down with Swedish fever. Maybe you have friends suffering from this affliction, too. They clutch dog-eared copies of Stieg Larsson’s “The Girl Who Played with Fire” and sit on the edge of their Ikea-designed seats, watching the film adaptation of Larsson’s “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” over and over again. When not hashing over missing Larsson manuscripts or the Kenneth Branagh series “Wallander,” they pound the pavement in search of gravlax and good, strong aquavit.

Believe me, I’m not scoffing at their plight. In fact, I’m battling a similar addiction. From ethereal cloudberry preserves and delicately flavored kanelbullar to hearty root vegetables and tangy fish I’m completely hooked on the wholesome cuisine of Sweden.

It all started with gravlax. Often confused with smoked salmon, gravlax is raw salmon cured in a mixture of salt, sugar and dill. Similar to its smoked cousin, this Swedish specialty originated from the need to store fish in a time when refrigeration did not exist.

In medieval times fishermen salted their freshly caught salmon, wrapped them in birch bark, and then buried them in the ground. This burial protected the macerating fish from wild and ravenous animals. It also provided the preserved salmon with its name. In Swedish “grav” means “tomb” or “grave” while “lax” refers to salmon.

Today’s gravlax skips the birch bark and underground burial. Instead, after being cured with salt, sugar and dill, the salmon is sealed in plastic and refrigerated for 24 to 48 hours. After that time it’s removed from the fridge, rinsed cleaned and then thinly sliced. Once sliced, gravlax will keep for up to 5 days in the refrigerator.

In my case gravlax never hangs around for a full 5 days. No sooner have I bought gravlax than I’m ripping open the package and nibbling on a piece. Thanks to its velvety, melt-in-your-mouth texture, subtle aroma, and mildly piquant flavor, it’s become one of my favorite savory treats.

I first sampled gravlax at a quintessentially Swedish place, a smorgasbord. Here paper-thin, coral-colored slices overlapped on a stark white ceramic platter. A border of fresh, feathery dill surrounded them. Pretty to behold, gravlax was even better to eat.

And eat I did. I devoured it atop wedges of dark brown bread, alongside poached eggs, and with stewed potatoes. When I ran out of bread, eggs or potatoes, I ate it on its own with a dollop of sweet mustard sauce. Every bite was an utter delight. And with that my passion for gravlax and all-things-Swedish began.

GRAVLAX WITH SWEET MUSTARD SAUCE
Adapted from “Very Swedish” by Annica Triberg, Per Ranung and Tore Hagman (Bokförlaget Max Ström, 2007)

For the gravlax:
2 1/4 pounds salmon fillet, de-boned but with the skin intact
3 1/2 ounces sugar
1 TBSP coarsely ground white pepper
4 ounces iodized salt
3 handfuls fresh dill

For the sauce:
1 TBSP mild mustard
1 TSP Dijon mustard
1 TBSP sugar
2 TBSP red wine vinegar
1/2 cup oil (not olive)
1/4 cup finely chopped dill

Mix together the sugar, salt and pepper and massage it into both sides of the salmon. Spread the dill on the meat (not skin) side. Place the fish in a plastic bag, seal the bag, put it on a plate and place a heavy cutting board on top of it. Allow the fish to rest at room temperature for 2 hours. After 2 hours have passed, remove the cutting board and refrigerate the salmon for 24 to 48 hours, turning it 3 to 4 times during this period.

Remove the fish from the refrigerator, dry it off and scrape off the seasonings. Slice thinly and either serve or refrigerate. Gravlax will keep for 4 to 5 days in the fridge and can also be deep-frozen.

For the sauce, mix together the mustards, sugar and vinegar. Drizzle in the oil while mixing swiftly. Stir in the chopped dill. Set aside in a cool place.

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Whether you grow your own vegetables, frequent farmers’ markets, or grocery shop, you’ve no doubt noticed an increase in the quantity and quality of tomatoes. Yes, it’s tomato time, the period from July to October where locally grown, vine-ripened tomatoes hit their prime. For those who happily chomp on tomatoes as a snack, salad, side or main dish, it’s a highly anticipated season. For those like me who don’t share this passion, it means confronting the quandary of what to do with all those tomatoes.

A well-meaning friend once suggested that I try canning them. After all, doesn’t everyone love home preserving? Apparently not. After one steamy, day-long canning class I learned that, like oil and water, canning and Kathy do not mix.

After ruling out canning, I considered other options, including drying tomatoes in a food dehydrator. While pleasant tasting, dried tomatoes lacked the spark of their fresh, juicy brethren. Realizing that, I scratched dehydrating from my list.

Ultimately, I’ve opted either to cook them or to serve them raw in an endless parade of recipes. Lucky for me, tomatoes pair well with almost everything. They possess a special affinity for such fruits and vegetables as arugula, bell and chili peppers, cucumbers, fennel, garlic, lemon, onions, shallots and watermelon but also partner nicely with avocado, green beans, broccoli, cauliflower, eggplant, mango, mushrooms, peas, raspberries, squash and zucchini. Their sweetly sour flavor compliments bay leaves, cilantro, marjoram, mint, flat-leaf parsley, black and white pepper, and thyme.

Likewise, tomatoes go with a variety of cheeses – blue, goat, Gorgonzola, mozzarella, Parmesan and ricotta among them. They also marry successfully with balsamic, red wine, rice, sherry, tarragon and white wine vinegars as well as with olive oil and salt.

Along with countless flavor affinities, tomatoes offer a great degree of cooking versatility. They’re wonderful when baked, broiled, fried, grilled, sauteed, stewed, turned into a sauce or served raw. With the exception of plum tomatoes, which have a fairly tough skin, they don’t require peeling or de-seeding. Just slice and serve them with a dash of salt and black pepper. Easy!

When faced with a huge mound of these veggies, I dig out my stack of tomato-oriented recipes and get to work. Sometimes I’ll plunk them into my food processor and, after adding cucumbers, peppers, garlic and sherry vinegar, make gazpacho soup. I’ll also plop them into a stockpot with chopped garlic, onions and basil and simmer a peasant-style pasta sauce. With smaller amounts I may pull out a sheet of frozen puff pastry, cover it with sliced tomatoes, and bake a tomato tart. I often just layer sliced tomatoes between fresh basil, grilled Haloumi cheese, and thick slices of multigrain bread or grill them with a little goat cheese on top for a tasty Mediterranean lunch.

GRILLED MEDITERRANEAN TOMATOES
Serves 2 to 4

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large, ripe tomatoes, cored and sliced
1/8 to ¼ teaspoon dried oregano or to taste
1/8 to ¼ teaspoon dried basil or to taste
3 ounces goat cheese
dash of freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the grill on high.

Tear off a large sheet of aluminum foil and spread 1 tablespoon of olive oil over it. Place the tomato slices on the greased foil. Sprinkle dried oregano and basil over each slice and then drizzle the remaining olive oil over them. Using a spoon or your fingers, distribute equal amounts of goat cheese on each tomato and then season with ground black pepper.

Lay the foil on the heated grill and allow the tomatoes to cook for 5 minutes or until the cheese has melted slightly and the tomatoes have released some of their juices. Serve the tomatoes on their own or atop steamed couscous.

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If you give fresh fruit to me this summer, chances are that I’ll wash and then tumble it into a greased baking dish and bake a fruit crisp. Rhubarb, strawberries, blackberries, blueberries and peaches have all bubbled away beneath a blanket of brown sugar, cinnamon, oatmeal and butter. Sure, with the exception of rhubarb, I could have enjoyed any of these raw. Yet, I can’t seem to stop myself from making and eating these treats.

What prompted this obsession I do not know. Maybe it’s a touch of summer laziness for the crisp is one of the fastest and easiest desserts to bake. What I do know is that my crisp often gets confused with other sweets. At countless dinners and parties friends have thanked me for bringing a crumble, cobbler or slump. Who’s right? And just what am I baking?

Although I think of “slump” as what my mother told me never to do, the word actually refers to a luscious dessert. Hailing from New England, it consists of fresh fruit topped with dollops of raw dough. As the ingredients stew together in a covered pot, the dough slowly oozes across the top. Some historians claim that this oozing pastry is how the slump got its name. Others, though, believe that slump refers to how the succulent dessert slouches, blob-like, on a plate.

In the case of cobbler, crust differentiates it from a slump. Rather than spoonfuls of dough, cobbler features a thick crust encasing slices of apples, peaches or other fresh fruit. Decorated with granulated sugar, the cobbler is then baked in the oven until golden and bubbling. When cooled and cut, it brings to mind a slice of deep-dish pie that lacks a bottom crust.

Of the three, it’s the crumble that most resembles my fruit offering. Reputedly invented during WW II, it features a simple pastry of flour, sugar and butter. After mixing the ingredients together, they are spooned over apples and baked. As the crumble cooks, the butter melts into the flour and sugar to form a loose, crumbly covering. Hence the name crumble.

Like the crumble, the crisp’s name is derived from its crust. Made a mixture of flour, oatmeal, brown sugar and butter and spiced with cinnamon and sometimes ginger or nutmeg, the topping becomes crisp and brown when baked. Depending on the time of day and diner’s preference, the crisp either gets topped with scoops of ice cream or caps off a bowl of yogurt.

Whether you opt for a crisp, crumble, cobbler or slump, you’re destined for a delectable dessert, one that you’ll end up making — and eating — again and again.

PEACH CRISP
Serves 6 to 8

Note: To turn this into a blueberry crisp, replace the 6 peaches with 5 cups of fresh or frozen blueberries.

butter, for greasing an 8″ x 8″ baking dish
6 peaches, peeled and sliced
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3/4 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
3/4 cup rolled oats
1/3 cup flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

Layer the peaches in the greased, 8″ x 8″ glass or ceramic baking dish and sprinkle them with lemon juice.

Place the brown sugar, rolled oats, flour, cinnamon and butter in a medium-sized bowl. Using either a fork or your fingers, mix or squish the ingredients together until well-blended. Place the topping over the peaches, covering them completely. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the crisp is golden brown and bubbling. Remove, cool slightly and serve either with plain yogurt or peach ice cream.

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As a kid, I loathed eggplant. No wonder. My first taste of it came in the form of a bland and watery eggplant Parmesan. One bite of the floppy, cheese-coated, sauce-logged vegetable and I wrote it off for good. Or so I thought.

A decade later eggplant landed on my plate again. This time, though, it looked far more palatable. In fact, it looked downright delicious. Sliced into strips and then seasoned with olive oil, salt and black pepper, it had been grilled until slightly charred around the edges. A tentative taste left me hooked on its mild tang and supple, melting texture. With that my hatred of the purplish-black, teardrop-shaped veg ended and my love affair with eggplant began.

Known in Great Britain and France as an aubergine, the eggplant – along with the tomato and potato – is a member of the flower-bearing nightshade family. Reputedly originating in China, it first hit European shores during the 13th century. There it became the backbone of such renowned dishes as French ratatouille, Greek moussaka, Spanish escalivada and Sicilian caponata.

Today the Middle East, India and Asia cook with this roly, poly fellow far more than Europe and America do. Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Israel roast and mash it to create baba ghanoush. Northern India features it in a curry known as baingan bartha while Southern India serves it in a chutney called brinjal kosthu.

Whether I use it in curries, ratatouille, or baba ghanoush or just broil, fry or grill it, I should ensure that my eggplant is young and healthy. Otherwise, no matter what I chose to make, I’ll end up with a spongy, bitter tasting dish.

When searching for a good candidate, I look for smooth, firm, blemish-free skin and an overall heftiness. Once I’ve purchased it, I either use the aubergine immediately or store it in my vegetable crisper for up to four days. By the fourth day it invariably begins to wither and should be composted.

Young eggplant doesn’t need to be skinned. Simply slice and cook it as you would squash. Keep in mind, though, that it will readily absorb oil so either employ oils sparingly or coat your eggplant with batter or bread crumbs before cooking.

Although available year-round, eggplant peaks in late summer. Needless to say, now is the perfect time to drop by your local farmers’ market and pick up a few.

RATATOUILLE
Serves 4 to 6

¼ cup olive oil
1 medium eggplant, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
2 zucchini, washed, sliced and then cut into quarters
2 tablespoons olive oil
1½ cup yellow onions, chopped
2 green bell peppers, washed and cut into 1-inch squares
5 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper, or to taste
1½ cup of canned, diced, organic tomatoes
dried oregano, to taste
¼ cup fresh basil, washed and finely chopped

Heat the oil in a large Dutch Oven. Add the zucchini and eggplant and cook until golden and tender, about 10 minutes. Add the onions and 2 tablespoons olive oil and cook until softened. Add the peppers, garlic, salt and pepper and cook for 5 to 10 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and oregano. Reduce the heat to low and cook until everything is soft and well-blended. Sprinkle with fresh basil, stir and serve with slices of crusty baguette.

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Hosting a summer soiree, I invariably face the dilemma of what thirst-quenching drinks to provide. While iced tea and lemonade remain obvious choices, I know that some will crave a beverage with more of a kick than chilled raspberry lemonade. That’s when I haul out my blender, pitchers, barware and kitschy, paper umbrellas and start whipping up seasonal cocktails.

Among my go-to recipes is Sangria Blanco. Typically, when I hear “sangria,” I think of the red wine punch found throughout Spain. In fact, this crimson drink gets its name from the Spanish word for “bleeding.” Yet, in the dead of summer bartenders will replace the signature red wine with a cold white and offer Sangria Blanco to their parched clientele.

Although I love both versions, I tend to think of white sangria as my “everything but the kitchen sink” drink. Into my punch bowl go dry white wine, white rum, triple sec, gin, brandy, fresh orange juice, canned pineapple juice and simple syrup. After stirring the ingredients, I cover and then squeeze the bowl into my refrigerator. There the flavors will meld together for up to 24 hours. Topped with slices of frozen peaches, plums and lemons, Sangria Blanco serves a small army or, in my case, 10 to 12 cocktail-loving friends.

The Limoncello Drop likewise ranks high among my party favorites. A variation of the vodka-based Lemon Drop, this sweet but tart drink reminds me of a childhood treat, Lemon Drop candy. I’m not alone in this impression. Supposedly, the original was named for that confection.

Differing from the Lemon Drop in ingredients as well as name, the Limoncello Drop consists of the Italian liqueur limoncello, triple sec, peeled lemons and sugar. To make this sweet but tart repast, I plunk everything into my blender and blend until smooth. I then strain the drink into a pitcher and refrigerate it until the guests arrive. Cold and smooth, it’s an excellent choice for a steamy summer night.

When I’m not pressed for time, I often opt for watermelon daiquiris. An invention of the late 19th century, the daiquiri hails from the Cuban mining town of the same name.

Unlike the original cocktail of rum, lime, sugar and ice, my concoction includes chunks of frozen watermelon. Here time becomes a factor in that I must cut up and freeze a watermelon. If the cubes don’t harden by the time that I toss them into my blender, I end up creating batches of spiked watermelon smoothies. Tasty but not what I had intended on serving.

SANGRIA BLANCO
Serves 10 to 15

2 1/2 to 3 bottles of dry white wine
3 ounces white rum
3 ounces triple sec
2 ounces gin
brandy, to taste
1 cup orange juice
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1 cup simple syrup
2 peaches
3 plums
2 lemons

Wash and cut into cubes the peaches and plums. Wash and slice in half the lemon and then slice into thin half-moons. Mix the fruit together and then place equal amounts into empty ice cube trays, leaving enough space to add water. Add water to the trays and freeze. (Note: These should be made at least several hours before mixing and/or serving the sangria.)

In a large bowl or pitcher pour in the wine, rum, triple sec, gin, brandy, orange and pineapple juices and simple syrup. Taste and adjust flavors accordingly. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Before serving, stir so that the ingredients are well-blended. Tumble in the fruit-filled ice cubes and allow guests to help themselves to cold, fruity, Sangria Blanco.

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Last week I moaned about the prospect of cooking in the oppressive heat. This week it’s the humidity that keeps me from hanging out in the kitchen. Thanks to a sultry summer, I’m still fixated on soothing, cold soups.

For lunch today I enjoyed a bowl of the crimson, Andalusian version of gazpacho. Originating in southern Spain, this red soup resulted from the 16th century introduction of tomatoes from the New World. Unlike Spain’s other chilled soup, ajo blanco, gazpacho features a puree of tomatoes, sweet bell peppers, cucumbers, garlic, vinegar and olive oil. Some cooks add diced onions, celery, lemon juice, fresh herbs, tomato juice or hot sauce. Others slip in breadcrumbs to thicken the soup.

When serving this dish at home, I occasionally strain the pureed vegetables and ladle out a velvety smooth soup. Other nights I leave in the veggies and dish out a chunky, hearty meal. That’s the beauty of Andalusian gazpacho – one recipe, two different results. Serve it the first night as a thick, vegetable-studded stew. Strain and present it the second evening as a light, satiny soup.

Another refreshing option is cold beet soup. Commonly known as borscht, this purplish, Eastern European delicacy consists of sliced or diced beets simmered in their own broth and then mixed with lemon juice, sugar, and minced onions. It is not to be confused with hot borscht, which has a meat-based stock and may contain beef as well as mushrooms, cabbage and potatoes.

Reminiscent of borscht, the Polish soup chlodnik starts with a refrigerated stock of grated beets, water, vinegar and sugar. Cucumbers, onions, radishes, dill and other herbs join the mix. Sour cream or yogurt is stirred in to give the dish its eye-popping pink color. In some parts of the country cooked crayfish or veal finish off the chlodnik. Elsewhere slices of lemon or hard-boiled eggs accompany it.

When the heat really has me beat, I whip a ridiculously simple version of chlodnik. Chopped pickled beets and their juices join together with low-fat Greek yogurt and a dash of white wine vinegar. Whisked until well-blended, these ingredients form a tart but tasty meal.

GAZPACHO
Serves 6 to 8

3 pounds ripe tomatoes, cored, seeded and chopped into quarters
1 yellow bell pepper, trimmed and cut into chunks
1 green pepper, trimmed and cut into chunks
1 1/2 cucumbers, peeled, seeded and cut into chunks
1 small Spanish onion, quartered
3 cloves garlic, peeled
¼ cup sherry vinegar
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon lemon juice
sea salt, to taste

Using a food processor, puree the tomatoes. Add the remaining ingredients to the food processor and puree again.

If desiring a smooth soup: Using a chinois or fine-mesh sieve, strain the soup into a large container. Be sure to press down on the pureed vegetables to extract all the liquid. Discard the solids and refrigerate the liquid for a minimum of three hours so that the flavors can meld. Serve cold.

If preferring a chunky soup, skip straining the liquid and just refrigerate the soup for a minimum of three hours. Serve cold.

CHILLED BEET SOUP
Serves 6 to 8

You can take the time roast and then peel the beets but, since I’m trying not to increase the heat in my kitchen, I’ve opted for canned beets in this recipe. Not as authentic or flavorful but certainly a lot cooler for the cook!

2 (16 ounce) cans of beets
4 cups water or vegetable stock
juice of 1 ½ lemons
1 tablespoon sugar
8 ounces sour cream
salt, to taste
freshly ground white pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped

In two batches place the beets, water or stock, lemon juice and sugar in a blender and blend until smooth. Add salt and white pepper to taste then pour the soup into a pitcher and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or up to 3 days.

Before serving, pour the soup, along with the sour cream, into a blender and mix the two together. Ladle into bowls, sprinkle with dill and serve.

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As East Coast temperatures top 100 degrees and I’m convinced that I really could fry an egg on the sidewalk, I’ve started to reconsider my dinner options. While tired of take-out, I’m far from thrilled by the prospect of standing over a hot stove in my simmering kitchen. As refreshing as that half-gallon of rocky road ice cream in my freezer seems, I doubt that it will tide me over until morning.

Around the time that I reach for a box of breakfast cereal, I remember two magical words – cold soup. Sometimes referred to as “liquid salads,” chilled vegetable soups provide the perfect way to cool off on sultry summer nights.

From Spain comes icy gazpacho. Introduced by Arab occupiers sometime between the eighth and thirteenth centuries, this familiar crimson soup began as a cream colored, garlic- and bread-based peasant food. To make the original gazpacho, cooks would pound stale bread, garlic, olive oil, and salt together in a mortar. They then added water to reach the desired consistency and splashed in vinegar for a tart, invigorating taste.

I make the modern incarnation of this soup, ajo blanco, not with a mortar and pestle but in my food processor. I simply toss in blanched almonds, garlic, bread, olive oil, salt, sherry vinegar and water and pulse the ingredients together until they’re finely chopped. I then refrigerate the soup until chilled. Served with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, sliced grapes or chopped nuts on top, ajo blanco remains one of my favorite ways to chill out on a hot night.

There is something about a white soup – its cool color and smooth texture – that seems especially soothing. That’s why, along with ajo blanco, I often blend together such simple, yogurt-based fare as tarator and cacik.

Hailing from Bulgaria and with variations in Albania and the Republic of Macedonia, tarator is made from plain yogurt, garlic, cucumbers, walnuts, and olive oil. Thinned with cold water, tarator is served chilled and may even contain chips of ice.

Turkey has a similar summer dish, cacik. Akin to Greece’s tzatziki, cacik acts not only as a soup but also as a salad or dip. Comprised of yogurt, cucumbers, garlic, salt and dried dill or mint, it’s served in small, chilled bowls. In a further effort to beat the heat, it may also include ice cubes.

On days when temperatures soar into the triple digits and my exhausted air conditioner concedes to the heat, I no longer have to reach for take-out menus, cold cereal or ice cream for my meals. Thanks to chilled soups, I now have allies in the battles against my steaming kitchen and the oppressive weather.

AJO BLANCO
Serves 4 to 6

7 1/4 ounces blanched almonds
4 cloves garlic, skins removed
1 slice stale white bread, crusts removed
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon sherry vinegar
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
Handful green grapes, cut in half lengthwise
Dash of paprika

Place the ice cubes in 2 1/4 cups water to chill. Place the almonds, garlic, bread, salt and olive oil in a blender or food processor and process until finely chopped. With the food processor or blender running, slowly add 2 1/4 cups of ice water. If the soup appears too thick, add more water. (It should be creamy but not thin or runny.) Add the vinegar and white pepper and pulse a few times.

Pour the soup into a container or soup tureen and refrigerate until chilled. Ladle the ajo blanco into the bowls and gently place several halved grapes or a sprinkle of paprika on top of each bowl. Serve immediately.

CACIK
Serves 4

1 pint plain yogurt
2 cucumbers, seeded and diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried mint
two sprigs of fresh dill, finely chopped
1 to 2 cups ice water
handful of ice cubes, for serving

Add the cucumbers, garlic, mint and dill to the yogurt and whisk to combine. Dilute the mixture with the water until the desired consistency is reached. Whip with a whisk again. Pour into small, chilled bowls and toss an ice cube or two into each bowl before serving.

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With Independence Day and a long weekend of picnics and BBQs just around the corner, it seems like the perfect time to talk about condiments. Whether sweet, sour, spicy or a tad salty, these toppings have added flavor and flare to food for centuries. While ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise still reign supreme, there are plenty of unusual dressings to spice up your summer meals.

Love some heat with your meat? Spoon on the fiery, North African condiment harissa. This crimson sauce consists of hot chilies, garlic, cumin, caraway seeds and sea salt. As an indicator of just how spicy it can be, commercially produced harissa comes in cans decorated with erupting volcanoes.

Usually harissa accompanies couscous. In Tunisia, though, it’s used as a sandwich spread. It also gives an extra kick to vegetables and seafood. Some cooks add a little yogurt to their harissa and offer it as a dip.

If harissa sounds too searing, try the milder North African chermoula. It starts with a base of cilantro, parsley, garlic, lemon juice and olive oil but can go on to include ginger, red pepper oil, saffron, paprika, cayenne and even vinegar. Every country and cook in North Africa seems to have a unique chermoula recipe.

Unlike the multipurpose harissa, chermoula primarily serves one role – to dress fish. It acts as a marinade for firm, white-fleshed fish and as a cold sauce for fried fish and shellfish.

If you like saltiness, slather on some tapenade. Based on the French word for “capers,” tapenade is a thick, dark paste of pureed capers, black olives, anchovies and olive oil. Variations exist, including tapenades with garlic, lemon juice, mustard, green olives and/or tuna.

In Southern France cooks daub tapenade over crisp baguettes and serve it as an hors d’oeuvre. Elsewhere it flavors seared fish steaks, grilled vegetables, crackers or warm pita bread. It also acts as a stuffing for oven-roasted tomatoes and works as a savory spread for grilled fish sandwiches.

Prefer to cool off your palate? Spread refreshing tzatziki over your grilled lamb, chicken, vegetables or fish. A staple of Greek cuisine, tzatziki couldn’t be simpler to make. Just whisk together strained, plain yogurt, chopped cucumber, diced garlic and minced, fresh mint.

In Greece this creamy sauce tops such dishes as gyros and souvlaki. It can likewise be used a dip for vegetables. Paired with pita bread, it becomes a simple appetizer.

CHERMOULA
Makes roughly 1/3 cup

6 cloves garlic, peeled and quartered
1 ½ teaspoon crushed chili pepper
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon paprika
generous handful of cilantro, washed and stems removed
handful of parsley, washed and stems removed
juice of 1 ½ lemons
2 ½ tablespoons olive oil
ground black pepper to taste

Using a food processor, pulse all the ingredients together until they have formed a paste. Alternately, you can use a mortar and pestle and combine the garlic with the chili and black pepper, cumin, paprika, cilantro and parsley. Add the oil and lemon juice right before using.

HARISSA
Makes 1/3 cup

warm water, enough to soak the chili peppers
12 medium-sized, dried ancho chili peppers
5 cloves garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1 tablespoon hot pepper paste
½ teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons olive oil

Remove the tops and seeds of peppers and place them in a bowl with enough warm water to cover them. Allow them to soak for about 45 minutes or until they are soft.

Meanwhile place the cumin and coriander seeds in frying pan and toast the over medium heat until golden and aromatic. Remove from the heat, cool and then grind in either a spice or coffee grinder or pulverize with a pestle and mortar.

Drain the chilies and place them in the bowl of a food processor or blender. Add the garlic and pulse until they have become a crunchy paste. Add the ground spices, hot pepper paste, olive oil, salt and pulse twice. Remove the harissa from the bowl and place in an airtight container in the refrigerator until ready to use.

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