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.
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If the history of this blog is any indication, I’m a huge fan of bread salads. My love is easily explained: bread adds heft to make a salad feel like a meal, and since i’m going to dunk a hunk of baguette in my leftover dressing anyway, ripping bread right into the salad is the best kind of shortcut.
Fattoush is a member of the bread salad family, an honored and much loved one at that. Its origins are Levantine, and in various Middle Eastern countries, it’s a definitive staple. Instead of the crusty bread you often find in American or Italian bread salads, fattoush relies on the Middle Eastern staple, pita. Like other bread salads, the idea behind fattoush is to use stale bread — but the salad is so addictive, I confess to finding myself at the bread basket, grabbing some perfectly unstale pita to toast for the purpose.
For some, fattoush is all about the pita. For others, it’s about those beautiful persian cucumbers — the skinny, seedless variety that have finally found their way to farmers’ markets on the east coast. But if you ask me, especially in this season, fattoush begins and ends with excellent tomatoes.
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Taco night is a perennial favorite. It’s an easy meal to prepare, most components can be prepared well in advance, and if you make it for a dinner party, you’ll be feasting on leftovers for days. When I say “taco night,” of course, I’m referring to that generic category of weeknight suppers, including but not limited to tacos, fajitas, burritos, and anything else involving tortillas, fillings, and toppings of your choice.
In case you’re at a loss for where to start, here’s my go-to iteration of Tex-Mex dinner: I serve warm flour tortillas, refried beans, sauteed peppers and onions, cabbage slaw with lime and chile, and salsa, guacamole, and queso fresco to top it all off. It’s a regular feast.
And please, don’t let me cramp your style: the possibilities aren’t limited to beans and whatnot. If you’re not a fan of the legumes, pan-fry some chicken, fish, or beef slices over high heat until charred, squeeze a lime juice and sprinkle some salt and pepper, and you’ve got yourself a taco or fajita filling.
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If you can muster the inner peace to not explode when you turn on the oven, you should definitely make this cake. Granted, the 100+ temperatures make summoning the will to add heat to your home that much more masochistic, but like I said: if you can find that inner namaste, this cake is a handsome reward. It’s a simple summer cake recipe, one whose heft and flavor comes as much from thick, juicy peach slices as from freshly ground almonds.
You’d think the big hunks of fruit and almond flour would make this cake heavy, but they don’t. No, it’s not the lightest, most fluffy cake, but you know what? Neither is summer the lightest, freshest season. These are the dog days. With weather like this, you have two choices. You can sip cold soup, do a 10-day cleanse, and will the season to fade into fall, or — if you can’t beat’em, join’em. This slightly dense, incredibly moist cake will bring that love-hate relationship with summer right to the fore. It’s plump and bursting with peach juice. It’s not the least bit cold. And as you eat it, you’ll realize that succumbing to the dog days of summer, while sweaty as hell, can actually be liberating.
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