Fava Bean DipFried Zucchini with Red Wine Vinegar, Basil & Garlic
Recipes follow story
I love dinner guests.
I love cheese plates.
I love small noms served with bread.
I love social food and snacking rather than sitting down to a stuffy dinner.
I eat this way when I’m alone.
I eat this way when friends gather.
The sun-dried zucchini and pickled eggplant (I posted these a few weeks ago) were originally whipped up for a dinner I hosted for my aunt and uncle. Were it not for them, I wouldn’t have pictures hanging in my apartment, I’d probably be sitting on boxes, and I would undoubtedly be surrounded by the parts needed to assemble my kitchen dining island.
Admittedly, I am terrible at putting shit together. IKEA living is a no go for this single woman. I would probably be living in shambles without the good help of my Uncle Al and Aunt Deb. God bless their abilities. I like to think I look cute when I’m holding a level and power drill, but the truth is I’m not good with either of those tools.
I paid my aunt and uncle in noms because they’re pains in my ass and never let me pay for anything, and scold me when I show up at their home with wine and goods I’ve purchased. I say pains in my ass with a whole lot of love.
In addition to the zucchini and eggplant, I made fava bean dip which is a lovely alternative to hummus or white bean dip. Surprise your dinner guests and friends with a porky bean dip, they’ll love you for it.
Pair said dip (tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, olives, and prosciutto) with some Murray’s Cheese selects, fall in love with Lucca - one of the tattooed cheesemongers - and let him guide your selections.
Ah, there were also mussels in white wine and butter - but the photos are shitty and this is supposed to be a feast for your eyes.
Use your imagination - for once - Jesus Christ.
Fava Bean Dip
1 bag fresh frozen fava beans (skin removed)
8 oz. smoked bacon (roughly chopped)
4-5 cloves garlic (minced)
1/3 c. good olive oil
1/4 - 1/2 c. water
Kosher salt & freshly ground black pepper
-Set frying pan over a medium high flame, add 2 T. olive oil and render bacon
-When bacon is semi-cooked, about 5 minutes, add fava beans, a sprinkle of salt & pepper and cook for an additional 7-10 minutes until bacon is cooked and fava beans are soft (pretty mushy)
-Allow mixture to cool
-Once cool, place mixture in a food processor fit with a steel blade, sprinkle with salt, add minced garlic and add olive oil (via the feeding tube) and puree until smooth
-Remove from processing bowl and place in a separate bowl and slowly add water and mix until incorporated (the fava beans are pretty dense and the puree is quite thick/pasty so I added water to soften it up a bit)
-Serve with bread/crostinis and cheeses
4 beefsteak tomatoes
2-3 T. olive oil
5-6 sprigs fresh thyme
1 tsp. sugar
Kosher salt & freshly ground black pepper
-Preheat oven to 450 degrees
-Slice tomatoes into 1/2 thick slices and place on a baking sheet
-Sprinkle with salt, sugar and drizzle with olive oil
-Lay sprigs of thyme atop tomatoes
-Roast for 20-25 minutes until tomatoes are browning (but not burnt or falling apart)
Petit Billy: light, very slightly tangy, soft and delicate - delicious when sandwiched between a crostini and roasted tomatoes, works well on crostini drizzled with honey and topped with bacon crumbles (not shown here), and whipped into scrambled eggs (not shown here). I had fun using this $9.50 round of cheese. It was a little gift that kept on giving.
Pecorino Ginepro: salty, tangy (eat the rind, for the cheese is aged in a balsamic vinegar bath for 4 months), delicious grated atop the fava bean dip, tomatoes, and over pasta. My new favorite grating cheese. In fact, I could grate it into my palm and do cheese shots. Cheese shots anyone?
Preferes des Montagnes: buttery melt in your mouth goodness, very very slightly stinky - we ate it solo on plain crackers, but I imagined it would’ve worked extraordinarily well on honks of sourdough bread, brushed with butter and caramelized onions and made into a grilled cheese.
Toma Walser: soft, light, melts easily (Lucca recommended it for use in grilled cheese) - it worked with the tanginess of the pickled eggplant and zucchini.
Challerhocker: this was supposed to accompany the anchovy dip I never made, it was recommended over a gruyere and instead of crackers. Mildly nutty, with crystals that melt in your mouth - this cheese was enjoyed even without an anchovy bath.
Pickling eggplant, preserving tomatoes and sun-drying zucchini were signs that summer was coming to a close in the Corrado household. Late August through early September my family was purchasing and preserving fresh vegetables in an effort to stock up for cooler weather months. Even in October, my grandmother’s sandwiches held on to summer.
I wish to do the same, so I went wacky with the pickling.
Spend this weekend jarring something tasty.
1 large eggplant (cut into match sticks)
1 1/2 c. white vinegar
3/4 c. water
Red Pepper Flakes
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
-Cut eggplant and place in a large bowl, layering and sprinkling with salt
-Cover eggplant with vinegar and water and let refrigerate over night
-Using a ricer, strain the eggplant until all excess vinegar/water is removed
-Place eggplant slices in a sterile jar, layering with red pepper flakes, garlic and olive oil; repeating until all eggplant has been used and jar is full
-Cover and allow to sit (the longer the eggplant sits, the stronger the flavor)
Fried Zucchini with Red Wine Vinegar, Basil & Garlic
For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to live in a home with a backyard and a pool.
During the summer of ‘88 my grandma made my dream come true. She finally caved at the repeated request (can’t we have a pool? why can’t we have a pool? there’s so much space in the yard for a pool?) and somehow managed to convince my grandfather that it was a good idea. We had one of the biggest yards on the block, so much of it was going to waste - you know, like the huge garden we kept, rose bushes, grape vines, the cherry tree. Get rid of that garbage, we could have a pool!
I was chubby, but man was I stoked at the thought of cannon balls and running on grass in the privacy of my own home – instead of skipping over sprinklers mounted on concrete, fire hydrant scouting, and long summer days at free camp. A pool. I could have my first pool party. A pool. I would never pee in it.
Much to my dismay, instead of the pool going on the lush green grass that lined our side yard it was erected on the concrete slabs that made up our backyard. The concrete backyard, where the clothes lines hung and where my grandmother would dry out zucchini and collect grapes. The concrete yard where we had a giant shed full of steel, old fabric, fireworks and our bicycles.
Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful for the pool. I was thankful my grandma gave up a portion of her work-space for the betterment of our childhood. I’d like to think seeing me play in the street, fire hydrant water striking my rotund behind, made my grandma pro-pool. But I’m sure it was more than that, she always wanted to see me happy.
The clothes lines blocked the street view of my abonormally large and awkwardly shaped 8 year old body and gave me and my brother a place to cool off. The pool was only 3 feet deep, square and had no ladder (we used to just hop in over the side). Outfitted with no deck or any frills, our pool sat a top a giant piece of tarp. I’d watch my grandfather pace the grass, while I frolicked and splashed and cursed at my brother in a muted tone. Sometimes my grandmother would sit in a lawn chair beside the pool and watch Lou and I act like caged animals. It beat free summer camp in every way.
Trays lined with zucchini were far enough away so as not to get splashed with the chlorine water. I’d venture out in the morning, in my striped bathing suit, always first stopping to stare at the fleshy pieces of zucchini, as they began to bead up with moisture. Throughout the day, they would shrivel up – taking on the likeness and texture of the Weight Watchers dried apple pieces my mother would pack in my lunch box. But grandma wasn’t feeding us dried zucchini, she was frying it, layering it, and smothering it in red wine vinegar, salt, basil/mint and garlic. These zucchini could make a sandwich sing, although my preference was always to eat them plain – oil and vinegar coating my fingers (yes I picked with my fingers, never with a fork, and grandma wouldn’t yell).
As of today I’ve no pool. I’ve no backyard. I’ve not one family member to speak of that still lives in Brooklyn. I have a delightful apartment in Queens that’s equipped with a fire escape. On most brutally hot summer days, I think about clearing out my living room and placing a giant inflatable kiddie pool on my rug so I have a private space to cool off (that’s slightly larger than my bath tub).
The fire escape seemed like the only natural place to dry out the zucchini. I stared out my window and watched as they became moist. They didn’t suffer the brunt of pigeon poop. Nothing flew away and my management company never found out I was using the fire escape to conduct a cooking experiment.
After 8 hours in the sun, I brought the zucchini inside and continued to let them dry overnight. By the next morning, they were dry, slightly spongy and shriveled – just like they were supposed to be.
The zucchini were served at dinner with my Aunt and Uncle, along with my grandmas pickled eggplant.
When I move to a farm, somehow conveniently located near a beach or close to water (my other favorite place on this earth), there will be summers of jarring tomatoes, making wine and more zucchini and eggplant than one woman could possibly consume.
Fried Zucchini with Red Wine Vinegar, Basil & Garlic
2-3 zucchini (cut in half and slice lengthwise in 1/4” pieces)
1/4 c. olive oil for frying
2-3 T. red wine vinegar
4-5 cloves of garlic (minced)
10-12 leaves of basil (chiffonade)
-Sun dry zucchini (The more time the better, a full 24 hours in the sun will do it. In my case, I had to avoid the elements and pigeon poop, so drying them in a hot room over night did the trick.)
-In a large frying pan, heat olive oil
-Add zucchini and fry for 1 minute on each side (You’ll notice the dried zucchini will fry/brown super quickly because all of the moisture is now gone.)
-Let drain on a paper towel
-Layer zucchini in a 8x8 pyrex dish, sprinkling with salt, lightly dousing with vinegar, garlic and basil (repeat until layering is complete)
-Refrigerate for a few hours or overnight (The longer this dish sits, the more flavorful it gets)
Jicama & Mango Salad
Honey Lime Chicken Tostadas
After 10 plus visits to various neighborhood delis, restaurants, trucks and even tracking down a lady rolling a granny cart stacked with packed coolers, I’m still hooked on Mexican flavors. Over the past month, along with some friends (who I kindly call Team Taco), we’ve probably managed to eat our weight in tacos, tostadas, tamales, sopes, huaraches, spicy tripe, nopales, and chilaquiles.
My love for spice, meat and cilantro has not been lost - instead a strange surge of cravings has surfaced.
Admittedly, I rarely eat out meals - and I like it that way. I was the kid that didn’t go out to lunch and could be found in a corner of the lunchroom, book in hand and chowing down on lentils , pasta patate or cabbage and rice (straight out of a California Raisins thermos). I grew up in a home where we never went out to dinner or ordered in. Mom would shop at large produce markets on Ave. U, in Brooklyn, and walk out with 12 bags filled with greens, root vegetables, beans and what not for $60 (which fed a family of 5+ for a week). Father’s Day was the only exception to the dining out rule because my grandpa favored Danny’s Szechuan Garden. Their offering of orange beef served on giant, crispy, bright green romaine leaves with red chilies, thick brown sauce and flecks of orange peel was his kryptonite. Food for all other occasions - be it a birthday, Mother’s day and all holiday’s were prepared at home.
Given an evening to cook at home (they’ve been rare and, truth be told, I made this meal 3 weeks ago), I craved spices, cilantro, onions, green sauce and meat. I wanted a meal that was lighter than the deli-made chorizo tacos I’d been chowing down on (which tasted so good, but left me with morning regrets. Like many men I went home with in my 20’s).
Happily surprised that my local supermarket had nopales and tomatillos, I knew what I was supposed to be making at home.
Throughout this Mexican food award tour, there have been bad nopales and good nopales. My preference is grilled (some came steamed and sitting in water baths - not my style), but I braved my oven for this meal because I could only imagine they would be delicious slightly charred and roasted when slicked up with olive oil and salt. When cooked, the taste of a nopale could be likened to the flavor that would come about if an asparagus slept with a string bean. Somehow those two skinny bitches would make this giant, flat, paddle like, thorny threat of a vegetable.
Salsa verde samplings also ranged from stellar to poor. Thank you, Rick Bayless (I prefer roasting and adding more garlic and less water, per comments on the site).
The chicken was seasoned with fresh green and red chilies cumin, adobo, fresh garlic, honey and lime, and served with a side salad of jicama and mango (the delis were DELIGHTFUL but crunchy super fresh and a sort of sweet salad was in order).
Dear Kitchen, Pots, Pans, Knives, Mixing Bowls and Cutting Boards,
I’m glad we’re back together.
Chicken & Marinade
1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breast (sliced thinly crosswise and cut into chunks)
1/4 c. olive oil divided)
Juice of 2 limes
1 1/2 tsp. adobo
2 tsp. cumin
4 cloves garlic (minced)
3 chilies (red and green, seeded and diced)
3 T. honey
-Set chicken pieces in a pyrex dish with all ingredients, mix to coat, and let sit for 30 minutes
-Add remaining oil to a pan, over a medium high flame, and cook chicken (strained from liquid) for 8-12 minutes until no longer pink
-Spoon chicken on tostadas, top with fresh cilantro and onions and/or salsa verde
4-6 nopales (de-thorned and sliced lengthwise)
1/4 c. olive oil
Kosher salt & freshly ground black pepper
-Preheat oven to 400 degrees
-Coat nopales in olive oil, salt and pepper
-Roast on a baking sheet (spreading out evenly) for 20-25 minutes until browned on edges
Jicama & Mango Salad with Chili Lime Dressing
1 mango (cut into cubes)
1 jicama (sliced lengthwise)
1 small red onion (thinly sliced)
Juice of 1 lime
2 T. olive oil
3 T. chopped cilantro
Kosher salt & freshly ground black pepper
-Place mango, jicama and red onions in a large bowl and toss with lime juice, olive oil, and cilantro
-Salt, pepper and serve
Beet & Radish Greens with Rice Vermicelli
Pork Larb Letttuce Wrap
Once a month I walk into my office to find a Food & Wine magazine on my chair.
You may be wondering how this magazine mysteriously appears every month…
A good friend, who shall remain unnamed, moved into an apartment where the last tenants never transferred their subscription to Food & Wine - so she has bestowed upon me this monthly gift.
I’m trying to get in the habit of using more recipes to cook, so I’m not drawing everything from past meals with my family and our four star Southern Italian peasant food (which I do love to make and share).
Why not use this stolen, rather, found (stolen is harsh and it’s not really stolen), magazine subscription to do so?
I took the liberty of tweaking the Food & Wine recipe for Thai lettuce wraps by adding radishes and cucumbers so there was more crunch with my meat (since boston lettuce is so buttery and soft, and the red onions were the only item to add different texture alongside the meat). I also added more lime to the dressing to balance the sweet of the sugar and heat from the chiles.
Using leftover beet and radish greens from the farmers market (I never waste my greens, they always make their way into a meal) I cooked up some rice noodles; infusing those with similar Asian flavors of fish sauce, sugar, chiles, garlic, shallots and lime - to tie it in to the lettuce wraps.
A refreshing meal for a 90 degree night.
*The meat from the lettuce wraps was spooned a top the noodles so as to combine leftovers and make a tasty lunch.
Rice Vermicelli with Beet & Radish Greens
1/2 pack of rice vermicelli (cooked until soft)
Greens (spinach, diced bok choy or any left-over leafy greens work - I used beet and radish greens)
2 T. sunflower oil
6 cloves of garlic (thinly sliced)
2 shallots (minced)
2 chiles (minced - do not discard seeds)
2 tsp. sugar
1 T. fish sauce
Juice of 2 limes
-In a large skillet, heat oil and cook garlic and shallot until light brown
-Add chiles and saute for an additional 2 minutes
-Add sugar and fish sauce, mixing with ingredients until sugar dissolves
-Add greens and saute until cooked down
-Salt and remove from heat
-Add noodles to the greens and top with lime juice
Pork Larb Lettuce Wrap
*I doubled the Food & Wine recipe and added 3 diced radishes and half of a cucumber - also diced.
Sauteed Globe Squash With Roasted Peppers, Mozzarella & Basil
Today the farmers market at Socrates Sculpture Park was offering a bodacious bounty of summer squash. Every farm stand had a variety to offer, from vibrant green and yellow zucchini to the small, round and plump pale green globe squash.
This was my first shopping trip since arriving home from NJ. I went a little crazy and, per usual, purchased enough produce for a family of five (which should suffice for me alone). I also hit all of the usual suspects after the farmers market, including my local meat man for pork and turkey (to be made into Asian lettuce wraps and turkey meatballs in white wine this week) and the Italian deli for fresh mozzarella and Locatelli (eggplant Siciliana is also on my mind).
For tonight’s globe squash, I cooked it as I would any zucchini and sauteed it with olive oil, garlic and freshly minced chile peppers - until the white flesh became a deep caramelized brown (but without burning). I let the squash come to room temperature and added bell peppers I roasted this afternoon, a splash of white balsamic vinegar - for a sweet tang -and basil from my very own plant (which I’m shocked is thriving because, admittedly, I’m not the best with plants).
Serve this summer salad on thinly sliced baguette and top with a piece of fresh mozzarella (or layer on top of the mozzarella).
This evening’s leftovers will certainly make it into Sunday morning’s frittata, or it will be spooned atop pan fried tilapia tomorrow night.
Sauteed Globe Squash With Roasted Peppers, Mozzarella & Basil
2 globe squashes (cut in half and sliced in 1/4” thick half moons)
4 cloves of garlic (peeled and smashed)
1 red chile pepper (minced)
1 roasted pepper
1-2 T. olive oil
1-2 tsp. white balsamic vinegar
3-4 basil leaves (chiffonade)
4 oz. fresh mozzarella
1 medium baguette
Shaved pecorino (optional)
-Heat non-stick pan over a medium high flame with olive oil and garlic
-Once garlic is light brown and fragrant, add squash and saute until deep golden brown, about 10-12 minutes
-Salt and put aside or chill in the refrigerator
For Roasted Peppers
*If you have a barbecue, roasting is simple. If you’re working in your tiny apartment kitchen and you’re not afraid of the oven, blast it to broil and let your peppers char. Since I fear heating up my already steamy kitchen, I chose to roast directly over my stove burner.
-Place pepper directly on flame and rotate as the pepper blackens
-Once the entire pepper is charred, remove from the flame, place in a bowl and cover with plastic
-When pepper is cool enough to handle, remove blackened skin from the pepper, de-seed, slice thinly and set aside.
For Salad Prep
-Mix sliced roasted peppers with squash, toss with white balsamic vinegar and fresh basil
-Slice baguette, top with thin slices of fresh mozzarella and spoon vegetables over top
-Serve with shaved pecorino for a super salty kick
*my marvelous basil plant
I arrived home from Spanish class at 10:15pm to a grumbling belly. I usually don’t work myself up to the point of hunger pangs, as I can often be found snacking - an almond here, a cherry there, a dark chocolate square in the purse - I’m rarely cornered without provisions. Admittedly, my diet has suffered over the past few days because I haven’t gotten to the grocery store after spending this past weekend away. I’ve been enjoying a lot of fruit juice from a mid-town truck (however they’ve lost my patronage after today’s slimy watermelon juice incident. And of course, I still drank it - I was desperate.), I had mediocre (and overpriced) dumplings from the Rickshaw stand in Times Square (dry wrappers, dipping sauce that was missing depth of flavor), yogurt pretzels - undoubtedly my highlight - and a Weight Watchers granola bar I managed to snag from my aunt and uncles pantry before hauling ass back to NY on a NJ Transit Bus.
The thought and sight of an empty refrigerator gives me anxiety. Refrigerators filled solely with condiments, carrots so dry they’re flaking white and garlic so old it’s sprouting - make me uncomfortable. The one thing I always manage to leave in my refrigerator are eggs. Eggs can save any dinner, any evening you arrive home drunk and starving at 3am, and any morning after breakfast you might have with a gent if you let him stay.
Tonight, I turned to my eggs. With the sensation of lingering r’s on my tongue - lesson 1 in class included rolling - I entered my kitchen and let an egg rescue me. Into my omelet went the few cherry tomatoes I hadn’t eaten last week, scallions that stayed fresh, and a bit of brie that survived its time in my home (normally cheese is not safe in my presence). Finally, my mouth met a real meal.
I moved from my kitchen to my livingroom, turned on the television and planted myself on the couch. I broke my own rules regarding eating on the sofa and watching tv while doing so - double shame.
An Olive Garden commercial reminded me of the very first date I ever went on. During my senior year in college a close friend was kind enough to set me up with a boy that was delightfully awkward. He came to my door bearing flowers and we shared spaghetti pomodoro, unlimited bread sticks and a never ending salad as we sat across from one another at a small candlelit table at the Olive Garden . When we kissed his tongue crept inside of my mouth, moving back and forth like a fish just released from the water - rapidly flopping its tail fin until it ceased to move any longer. His tongue felt wrong, and despite those kisses we continued to date and engage in odd conversations about Celine Dion and the importance of waxing the floors when a guest is coming to visit.
He’s now married and living in Brooklyn. I hope he and his wife enjoy breakfast for dinner as they cuddle and share kisses.
I sat on my couch, in my slip, braless, fan pointing towards my face but cooling my whole body. For a moment I imagined what it would be like to be Beyonce, as I quietly hummed Bootylicious while commercials buzzed in the background. I felt my lips stretch across my face and form the shape of a smile. I was thankful to be alone in my home.
Relieved to be alone and eating eggs for one, at least in this moment.
A proper dinner indeed.
2 eggs + 1 white (beaten)
2 tsp. olive oil
2 scallions (whites only)
8 cherry tomatoes (sliced into rounds)
Red pepper flakes
1-2 oz. cheese
-Heat olive oil in a non-stick skillet, sauteing scallions and cherry tomatoes - then sprinkle with red pepper flakes
-Add eggs and cheese, sprinkle with salt
-Serve with buttered toast and find comfort in eating breakfast for dinner
Every Sunday, after church, my dad and I would go to Landi’s Pork Store. After church, this was the place to be - as women in their Sunday best lined up, shoved and shouted orders over one another; flirting with the young deli men behind the counter.
Jerry Corrado, silent and strong - no pushing or shoving, but giving a steady nod to the owner across the store - would grab a ticket and get in line to order up the usual round of goods to accompany our dinner.
My dad swore by Landi’s pin-wheel sausage, grizzly, speckled with parsley, and perfectly coiled so it could easily rest on a barbecue grill rack. Their potato croquettes, stuffed with ham and mozzarella, rolled in breadcrumbs and deep fried can make my mouth water just upon conjuring up the memory of them - pudgy, oily and squished in their little rectangular foil container awaiting a date with my maw.
To the right of the meat case was the antipasto display. I stared (and can still stare) at that antipasto case for hours. Oily mushrooms sitting in fresh herbs and vinegar, crunchy antipasto salad coated with little yellow pearls of oil, tomatoes and olives, doused with lemon juice and parsley. Olives so round, wrinkly, and speckled with red pepper flakes - pitted and sitting in individual pools of black salted water - they were all beautiful in their own right. I listened to my father order each and every item. He always went over board. Everyone in there loved Jerry Corrado, and I stood quietly next to him. His smaller chubby shadow, the little girl he made and fed well.
The guys behind the counter would smile at me in my too tight Sunday dress, and I would look down at the saw dust covered tiled floor - concentrating on my my muffin top feet as they burst out from top of my little white flats. Getting lost in the eyelet trim around my socks; I always begged my mom for eyelet socks. My dresses and skirts were often too tight, but I could always look down to spy pretty ankles.
I was shy. I couldn’t look any of them in the eye, as they sliced, smiled, laughed, cursed and sounded so Brooklyn - wiping their hands on their white smocks, adding to the sauce, oil and meat stains that were already there.
I was offered tastings of mozzarella and soppressata over the counter. The deli man would reach, meet my hand with a salty treat and I would smile, accept, fill my mouth and dart my eyes directly back to the floor. I would chew in silence, without muttering a word.
Every Sunday this process excited me, although I’m sure I came off as being Jerry’s mute daughter (things have certainly changed since then).
I would help my father carry his bags out to the car. Sometimes one of the deli guys would help, open the door, take my hand - lead me into the van - and prop plastic bags, donning a giant pig logo, all around me. As my father drove away from Landi’s I would crane my neck - as if wanting to extend my whole body through the glass of the back window - so I could have one more moment with man behind the counter who passed me my salty snacks.
Toto Cutugno was playing on cassette, and I could see my dad moving his lips and mouthing the words to his L’Italiano. While he sang I would sneak my hands into each bag, feeling around for a container to open. Once my fingers met a lid, I’d pop the cover off and grab what I could. An olive, a piece of celery, a tomato. My father was lost in his music and had no clue what I was up to as I sat in the back seat lost in my own world of salt, snacking, and crunchy celery - wishing I’d said thank you to the deli man who graciously sated my mind and belly.
This salad works as a refreshing antipasto. Add pieces fresh mozzarella and/or soppressata to the mix and eat as a meal with warm crostini or a piece of bread.
Simple, salty, satisfying and delicious.
6 ribs of celery (chopped, including leaves)
1/2 pint cherry tomatoes (halved)
1 roasted red pepper (sliced)
1/2 can of artichoke hearts
3-4 cloves of garlic (minced)
20-30 olives (pitted and halved)
1/4 flat leaf parsley (coarsely chopped)
Juice of 1 lemon
1/4 c. olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Optional (not pictured here because I’m detoxing from momo, milanese and taco overload from this past weekends eating explorations)
4-6 oz. fresh mozzarella (cubed)
4 oz. soppressata (cut into thin rounds)
-Add first 6 ingredients to a bowl and toss with salt and pepper
-Optional: add mozzarella and soppressata for a more satisfying starter, side or meal