Smashed cucumbers, or pai huang gua, is a Sichuan dish that is typically served with rich, spicy food. We started with English cucumbers, which are nearly seedless and have thin, crisp skins. Placing them in a zipper-lock bag and smashing them into large, irregular pieces sped up a salting step that helped expel excess water. The craggy pieces also did a better job of holding on to the dressing. Using black vinegar, an aged rice-based vinegar, added a mellow complexity to the soy and sesame dressing.
I am not sure that I want to live in a world where ranch dressing is more beloved than Green Goddess, which is superior in both name and taste, so I’m doing everything in my power to bring this vibrant, herb-packed green dressing into the limelight. Green Goddess is a kitchen MVP. It can be used as a salad dressing, yes, but it’s also a dip for crudités, a marinade for grilled chicken, and, if you’re one of the weirdos who like to do this, it’s great on pizza or with French fries too. For this super-green salad, I combine crunchy romaine, cucumbers, snap peas, green onions, and avocado, then douse it with the irresistible dressing.
Recipe provided by Kate Jacoby and Rich Landau, chefs at Vedge in Philadelphia. Hear more in The Key 3 segment recorded at their restaurant.
Recipe provided by Kate Jacoby and Rich Landau, chefs at Vedge in Philadelphia. Hear more in The Key 3 segment recorded at their restaurant.
I was a green goddess once, sort of. It was in high school, where I had a very brief solo in the school play. I cannot for the life of me remember what that play was, but my part involved me singing a little song while wearing a sea green toga and gold slippers in the latest goddess fashion.
Daniel and I spent our honeymoon in Istanbul, a magical city with heavenly food. One of the most distinct and memorable dishes was one we sampled at the house of a friend of a friend. Engin Akin, an expert on Ottoman palace cuisine and a crackerjack cook, invited us over for a historic meal inspired by what the sultans ate during Ottoman times.
One of the most gratifying things for a home cook is to scrimmage a meal together out of leftovers. It’s enormously satisfying to ransack the fridge and use up what lies under plastic wrap or is lounging about in the vegetable drawer; it always provides a relaxed, unforced creativity. I certainly would never have thought of using horseradish as a dressing for a tomato salad if I hadn’t wanted to find a way to use up a horseradish root staring beseechingly at me every time I opened the fridge.
Growing up, I was always served collards prepared the same way: some kind of pork and stock, with maybe a tomato, some onions, and always cooked until they were dark olive-green. I love collards and, like all other greens, want them to be a bright color and have some texture. This quick, simple recipe highlights that strong collard funkiness and tastes deceptively rich for a vegetarian dish.
We strongly recommend that you bake the beetroot [Ed. note, beets in North America] for this recipe according to the instructions below – baked beetroot have a stronger flavour, deeper colour and a denser, crunchier texture. Having said that, you could use boiled and it will still taste really nice. We use regular purple beetroot, but do try multicoloured ones if you wish. And if you don’t have time to make the labneh, you could use a smear of oat crème fraîche.
It’s an unlikely scenario—early season vegetables cooked at a low simmer to amplify their fresh flavors—but it works.