The Green Spark: Three Bean Salad with Mint Pesto

There are those people who like mint, and there are those of us that love mint.

Cool, bracing, just a little bit sweet, it's one of my favorite flavors -- quite often, you'll find a pack of Mentos in my pocket; the freezer in our apartment rarely goes for more than a few days without containing Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.

All this being said, like many herbs, there simply is no substitute for the real thing, fresh and homegrown. I should know -- for the last few months, I've been lucky to have an unruly, rapidly growing mint plant of my own. In fact, it's been growing so fast that I've been struggling to use it all up, tossing a little in this, a little in that, revitalizing well-trod recipes with its blast of refreshingly green tannins. This isn't just limited to desserts, however; while everyone knows how to use mint in desserts, it can be an inspired addition to savory dishes, such as the one I'm presenting today.

As a quick glance at the sidebar of this website demonstrates, I've tried to organize the recipes here by course and type, and the category of "Side Dishes" has been sorely neglected, something that I hope to rectify over the coming months. After all, what is summer about, if it's not about picnics, and side dishes, and salads; a million different dishes full of spice and crunch and zip?

Anyway, I'm starting that effort today with one of those aforementioned well-trod recipes: two of them, in fact. A new take on both three-bean salad and traditional pesto, this is a great combination and a welcome addition to any summer gathering.

[Editor's Note: Shortly before I went to post this recipe, my father was kind enough to send me a link to a recipe from the website of Rose Y. Colón, a chef and journalist from Miami, Florida, and a former colleague of his. While her recipe (for Edamame Pesto) includes both edamame and the elements of pesto (she purees the soybeans into the sauce to toss with pasta), I can state without reservation that my dish was conceptualized and created without any previous knowledge of Ms. Colón's recipe. What can I say? Great minds think alike. If you have a moment, please visit her website, found here, for many other delicious recipes.]

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Three Bean Salad with Mint Pesto
Serves 4

2 Cups Haricot Verts, chopped into 2" pieces
1 Cup Edamame beans, shelled
1 Cup English Peas, shelled

1/2 Cup Mint leaves, loosely packed
1/4 Cup Basil leaves, loosely packed
1/8 Cup Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (about a thumb-sized chunk)
1/4 Cup Walnuts, shelled
2 to 3 cloves of Garlic
1/4 Cup Olive Oil, extra to taste
Kosher Salt and Black Pepper, to taste

Extra Parmigiano-Reggiano for grating
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Start by assembling your ingredients. From top right, heading clockwise: frozen Edamame, fresh Haricot Verts, and fresh English Peas. As seen in the picture at the top of this post, you'll need to shell both the English peas and the Edamame; the thick skin on both is essentially inedible. Because my Edamame were frozen, I had to cook them before peeling them, which is not ideal. At the very least, be sure to peel the English Peas before they're introduced into the hot water.



In three batches, starting with the Edamame, moving onto the Haricot Verts, and ending with the English Peas, blanch each veggie in salted boiling water for no longer than two minutes (if the Edamame are frozen, they can go for an extra minute). You want to just start the cooking process, while being careful to retain the crunch and fresh flavor of the raw veggies. If you're not sure, always err on the raw side. After each batch is completed, toss the veggies into a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process and set the color.



While the various legumes get cold, prep the Mint Pesto in your food processor (a blender works just fine here, in a pinch). Feel free to play with the ratio of mint to basil -- some people will like a higher percentage of mint, but the 2-1 ratio above will please most crowds. Start with the above and feel free to add additional leaves (the increase in liquid volume will be negligible).

You'll notice that I use walnuts in my Pesto; the Pasta Burner doesn't really care for pine nuts, so I've gotten used to subbing them out. The switch works particularly well here -- the walnuts make for a creamier consistency, and they round out the other flavors in the final product well.



Add everything but the Olive Oil into the processor, turn it on, and drizzle it in slowly to make an emulsion. This makes a relatively thick paste; if you want a thinner sauce, feel free to drizzle in more oil until you reach a consistency that pleases you.

Drain the vegetables from the ice water, peeling the Edamame (if you used frozen).



Toss all the veggies well with the sauce, and adjust the flavor with Kosher Salt and Pepper. The final product:



This is one of those dishes that just begs to be made in early summer, a marriage of herbs and vegetables at the peak of their season. Nearly all of the ingredients can be found locally or grown in your backyard, and any number of different legumes can be substituted in. Simply use what's fresh and what looks good at your local market; I promise you that this will disappear from any picnic table in a flash.

Next weekend, we'll be back with a great Senegalese recipe, an intersection of France and Africa on one plate. Be sure to check back then.


Video: Rowan Atkinson -- "Mr. Bean Goes To A Restaurant"

The Well-Needed Vacation: Southern California, June 2009

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What does Southern California really mean?

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Is it an apartment with a view of Griffith Observatory?



What about the perspective from that very mountaintop, the far-reaching urban sprawl?



Certainly, it could be the car culture...



...and the traffic that inevitably results.



And what about Old Hollywood, the tourist traps, the Sunset Strip?



Of course, Southern California wouldn't be Southern California without the rich infusion of Latino culture, the melting pot of many dialects, the influence that is found in every element of life, the eternal soundtrack of Spanish in your ears.



Perhaps it's something simpler, like the wave of a palm tree...



...or a long, lazy afternoon at Dodger Stadium.



Some might suggest the meaning lies closer to the earth, along the many miles of hiking outside the city limits....



...or in the lush, verdant, brilliantly bright plant growth found on every corner, the belief you quickly come to hold that anything, anything at all, could be grown here.



Meaning could be found in the Starbucks-like expansion of Medical Marijuana stores since I last visited here, now free from the threat of federal prosecution.



And what of the hipsters and out-of-work actors found drinking in fashionable cafes at 10 in the morning?



At times, it seemed that Southern California was best represented by the straw hat I found myself almost constantly wearing, delighted by its functionality and only slightly concerned that it made me look like one of those aforementioned hipsters.



This is not to say that all is well in Southern California, however -- a walk down any street revealed far too many abandoned storefronts and apartments...



...and the ever efficient Metro system remains almost always empty.



None of this, of course, takes into account the changes that occur at night, the juxtaposition of twilight settling over the Hills...



...and the breakneck rush of driving on the freeways after dark.



Of course, the one thing that I haven't really talked about is the food -- the picture below was about as close as I got to thinking about photography when the promise of a good meal lay before me.



You might assume from the picture above that all I ate were tacos, and certainly, I could have been well satisfied by simply hopping from corner shack to corner shack for the two weeks I spent out there -- tacos lengue, carne asada, pescados, cochinita pibil, enough varieties of hot sauce and pepper-infused carrots to boggle the mind. I can still smell the onions and cilantro on my fingertips.

The truth of the matter is, however, that Southern California satisfied me in terms of every and any dining experience I desired -- white tablecloth dinners at Church & State and Osteria Mozza, both thoughtfully planned by the Pasta Burner, a debauched amount of pickles and raw meat at Soowon Galbi Korean BBQ, catching my own dinner out at sea on a sportfishing boat off Marina Del Rey, salty, umami-packed soup at Santouka Ramen, late-night snacks at the Kogi truck, even a decent slice at Pizza Port in Carlsbad.

Now, of course, those meals only scratch the surface of the many culinary adventures I had out in Southern California. Does that mean that Southern California means, above and beyond all else, great food? Without any doubt, of course, it was a big part of my trip -- I have no doubt that this website, over the coming months, will feature many new recipes inspired by what I ate and saw there.

That being said, I think the inability to distill Southern California to one thing, the futility of searching for one unified meaning -- that, perhaps, speaks to the spirit of the region best of all. Truly, Southern California should not be picked apart; it cannot be picked apart -- it must be plunged into, it must immerse you, it must seep deep into your body and take hold, it must constantly whisper: "Come, come back."

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We'll return to our usual format this weekend with a recipe. See you then.

Music: Jackson Browne -- "The Load Out / Stay" (Live)

The Sweet and Sour Southern Treat: Freestone Pickled Peaches

What isn't better pickled? And why don't more people ask themselves that question?

Kosher dills, bread & butters, sweet gherkins, or cornichons -- the appearance of those jarred delights is a certain sign that summer has arrived. That being said, too many people limit themselves to cucumbers alone. Even the most adventurous pickle mavens end their pursuit in the world of vegetables -- a couple cloves of garlic here, a handful of carrots there.

What they might not realize is that fruits, as well, make delightful candidates for vinegar baths; the sweet and sour result ends up as a delightful addition to both sugary and savory preparations alike.

One of my favorites is the pickled freestone peach, well spiced, more than a bit sour, and addictively delicious. Believe me; you'll wonder how you ever lived without them.

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Freestone Pickled Peaches
Makes 1 Quart Jar

8 Medium Freestone Peaches

2 Cups White Vinegar
1 Cup White Sugar (or more to taste)
1 Cup Brown Sugar (or more to taste)
1/2 Teaspoon Ground Nutmeg
5 Whole Cloves
1 Tablespoon Cinnamon (or 1 stick whole cinnamon)
1 Pinch of Kosher Salt
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First things first. The peaches must be peeled. Start by slicing across the peach one way...



...and then the other...



...creating an "X".



Drop the peaches into boiling water for 45 seconds, preparing a bowl of ice water to the side. After the 45 seconds, transfer the fruit and let it rest until fully cooled



The "X" that you formed earlier will give you four easy tabs. Peel the fruit by drawing the skin back and discarding it.



It's time to create the pickling brine. Start with two cups of vinegar...



...add in one cup of white sugar...



...and another of brown sugar.

(Editor's Note: I like these peaches pretty tart -- if you want a sweeter pickle, feel free to add in an extra 1/2 cup of both white and brown sugar. If you have a serious sweet tooth (and don't mind lapsing into a diabetic coma), go for an extra cup of each.)



Add in the spices, starting with a half-teaspoon of nutmeg.



Follow this with five cloves...



...and one Tablespoon of cinnamon (or one whole cinnamon stick).



Heat the pickling liquid until it starts to boil, whisking continually to dissolve the sugar. Add in pinch of kosher salt once things get warm. Turn off and allow to cool.



Quarter the peeled peaches and place them into a clean, sterile mason jar.



Pour the pickling liquid up to within one inch of the top of the jar. If you're processing these for long-term storage, follow standard canning procedure. If you're going to eat them within the next two weeks, simply twist on the jar and refrigerate them. They'll be ready to start eating in about 24 hours.



Now, sure, these pickles are quite lovely.



That being said, they do no one any good just sitting in a jar all day. As I said before, these work great in either sweet or savory dishes, as comfortable on pulled pork sandwiches as they are on top of ice cream, one of my favorite uses for them:





All in all, this is an exceptionally versatile condiment, sweet, sour, spicy, and tart -- and all at once, to boot. It's at once both familiar and comforting, classic and unique. Give it a try; I think you'll be delightfully surprised.

Next week, I'll be out and about in California gathering inspiration for the recipes that will appear here in the coming months. We'll have a bit of a non-traditional post next weekend, then return back to our usual format on June 27th.

Music: Peaches & Herb -- "Reunited"