Don't follow the rules: roast chicken with figs

This one, ragazzi, is about how you can play with recipes and get a good dish - maybe even a new one.  You don't have to pretend each recipe is holy scripture - or maybe you should, because none of us are literalists, are we?

Last week, Annalena was sort of in a haze one night as she was planning dinner for the next night.  "The best laid plans" do go astray, Annalena couldn't get to her market, so she needed to improvise.  Well, she had some chicken, and she remembered reading a recipe for chicken roasted with figs.  She found the recipe, but she did not have all the ingredients on hand, and the recipe called for an overnight marinade.

Know what?  You can do this without the marinade.  Also, the recipe called for black mission figs.  When Annalena got to her fruit vendor (she always buys figs from a street vendor), he had green figs, no black ones.

Know what?  The recipe works with green figs.  Finally, she had no fresh rosemary.

You guessed it:  it works with dried rosemary.  And here's how it goes.

First, you turn your oven to 450.  While that is happening, take four complete chicken legs (drumstick and thigh), and salt and pepper them well. Then, you combine them with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, a little grated peel, about a tablespoon of rosemary needles - fresh if you have it, dry if you don't.  Put that in a bowl, and let it sit for about an hour (if you can, less if you can't).

Get half a pound of figs, and get the stem off of each one, then quarter them.  Now, in calling for the black figs, the recipe is thinking of a jammy, almost sweet and sour sauce for the chicken, and that would have been delightful.  Black figs cook down faster than the green ones do.  By using the green ones, Annalena produced a chunkier, more solid dish.  Your call.

So what you do is you lay the chicken that has marinaded, for however long, on a baking sheet.  There will be space, and you add the figs. Finally, if you like roasted lemon (which Annalena does), you add slices of lemon:

Get this into your oven .  We're going to roast this for about 40 minutes total.  After twenty minutes:

Rotate the chicken.  See, every restaurant, like everyone of us, has "hot spots," and you want to even things out.  So after the rotation, let the thing cook for another twenty minutes (Incidentally, ragazzi, try to do this quickly, because you'd be stunned how rapidly the temperature of an oven drops with an opened door). 

And after that final 20 minutes:

Some of you prefer  your chicken to have darker, crispier  skin.  To do that here,  take the tray out of the oven, move the temperature to the broiler setting, and put the chicken back in for a couple of minutes.  These are legs, which have much more "juice" and fat than breasts, so they can take the heat.  Check after two minutes, and if you've got what you want, you're done.  Your lemons will crisp up, and the sugar in the figs will carmelize.  None of that is a bad thing.  

Then you serve it forth.  

Figs are a fruit that does not travel well, ragazzi, so if you DO eat fruit out of season, understand that you will not find fresh figs after late autumn.  So, as the commercial used to say  DO IT NOW!!!

And that's it for this weekend kids.  Watch the debates, register to vote if you didn't, and remember what's at stake.  It's more than dinner

Unexpected, with the versatile eggplant: Eggplant soup

It always surprises Annalena that there is such a disparity of opinion on eggplant.  There are people - Annalena knows several- who HATE it.  Now, this is something that she truly doesn't understand.  She respects it, but unlike other vegetables, or fruits, or anything else, where she can see (while disagreeing) HOW a dislike can develop, EGGPLANT????  She doesn't understand it.  Not at all.  So, if some eggplant haters read this, Annalena would be curious to know why.

In any event, eggplant has certainly become a part of our culinary culture.  Who does not know eggplant parmagiana?  or baba ghanouj?  In fact, at the end of this post, Annalena shall lead you to a song about eggplant.  She loves the song, and she loves what has been called "the Poor Man's meat."

Well, back to the dislike of eggplant.  Since much of what we "taste" is based on what we see, Annalena posted the picture above yesterday, to see if anyone could tell that it was eggplant.  Nope.  So, maybe you'll give it a try if  you don't like eggplant.  If you DO like eggplant, you MUST try this while you can.

To begin, turn up your oven to the broil point, put a rack as close as you can, and then let it sit for five minutes.  While it heats up, get three pounds or so of SMALLER eggplant, and poke a few holes in each one.  Doesn't much matter what TYPE of eggplant you use, although the European ones would be more traditional.  No oil here, ragazzi,  as you put the eggplant on a cooking sheet, and then leave it for about 5 minutes.  Then, when the skin has blackened, carefully (use tongues), turn it around so that the entire eggplant is blackened and crisp on the outside:

These are ridiculously hot, ragazzi, so leave them alone to cool.  When they do cool, peel the skin.  This will be easier to do with the globe eggplants.  With the longer, Asian eggplants, slice them horizontally, and scoop out the flesh.  

What this exercise will teach you is that eggplants, like peaches, or nectarines, etc, ripen. Some of these eggplant will be VERY soft, and others, will be quite firm.  It's a question of ripeness.  

So after you have the flesh separated, chop it roughly, and no need for surgical precision or cleanliness here.  A little skin with the flesh, is a-ok:

You will have about a quart's worth of eggplant "meat" or flesh here, and you can store it until you're ready to finish up the soup. 

When you're ready to make the soup, you need:

YOU GOT THIS!  You probably have this stuff around.  You can also do with a bit of hot red pepper (cayenne:  just a sprinkle), and you need chicken stock. 

Now, let's stop for a minute about that stock. Eggplant has a very delicate flavor, and chicken stock can overwhelm it.  On the other hand, water is not sufficient, and since most vegetable stocks are tomato based, and again overwhelm your other nightshade, Annalena suggests starting with a quart of chicken stock, and cutting it with two cups of water.  You WILL need six cups of the liquid anyway. 

So you chop up the onions roughly, until you have a heaping two cups.  Mince the garlic and keep it to the side.    Then, three tablespoons of olive oil into your pot, with your onions.  Just the onions, and some salt and pepper.  No garlic.  

You want to saute' the onions for about 5,6,7 minutes until you see them just beginning to go golden. Then, you sprinkle in your cayenne pepper, add your garlic, your eggplant and your stock

Bring this to a hard simmer, and then lower the heat. 

In the original recipe, you are to simmer this for ten minutes.  For the life of her, Annalena cannot figure out why.  Your eggplant IS already soft, and ten minutes will not make much difference.  Your onions are cooked.  Your garlic will not cook too much in ten minutes of a soft simmer.  Up to you. 

When you decide you're finished, time to puree.  BE CAREFUL.    Hot soup, any hot liquid for that matter, when pureed, releases steam.  Under pressure, as it is in the blender,  it can hurt you - badly.  So, use small amounts of the stuff - no more than two cups at a time, keep the top of the blender slightly opened, and cover it with a dish towel.  As you puree the soup, move it to another bowl or pot, and keep going until you're done.

The original recipe now calls upon  you to pass this soup through a food mill. Annalena cannot, for the life of her figure out why.  What she CAN tell you is that if you put this through the mill, you will lose about half of the 10 cups you just made.  Annalena likes texture in her soup.  But if you want it VERY smooth and velvety, by all means.  

Also, now take those lemons, and squeeze the juice of at least 11/2 of them into the soup. Taste.  You want the lemon flavor, but you want the subtlety of the eggplant as well.  It's all balance, and if you want the lemon to predominate, keep going with that leftover half. 

Finalmente, you are supposed to finish this soup with a garnish of the Middle Eastern spice blend, za'atar.  Now, this will certainly give our soup a certain flavor profile.  Annalena thinks that some pesto trapanese, or some plain basil pesto, or some chopped sundried tomatoes will all work better; however, she is going to eat her soup just plain, because she loves eggplant.  You have, however, a lovely beige canvas on which to work YOUR culinary magic. So, ragazzi, if you make this, and you do adorn it, tell us what you did.  Sharing is part of what cooking is about. 

And as promised, the wonderful  Michael Franks singing about eggplant.  Annalena does NOT suggest eating it cold with mayonnaise:  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=peuy_DcJhp8

The pudding that isn't pudding, the watermelon that isn't watermelon: Sicilian watermelon pudding "gelo di melone"

Well, ragazzi, in this post, Annalena continues her crusade across Sicily, and talks about cultural assumptions, openness, and being a day late and a dollar short.  Yes, another typical Annalena post:  what about the food?

For YEARS - literally - Annalena had heard stories about the wonderful  "Italian watermelon pudding."  She never saw it on a single menu.  Intrigued, from time to time, she tried to imagine it.  You all know watermelon:  it's, well, WATERY.  And pudding - of course you know pudding.  It's thick, creamy, rich.  Let's face it:  watermelon is not the first thing you think of (or even the 40th), when you think of pudding.    And in fact, the Italian word for pudding , "budino"  affirms your thoughts.  If you have been fortunate enough to get true "budino," it is quite likely you couldn't finish it.  When it comes to budino, Italians don't full around.  Think of, perhaps, a bowl of chocolate fudge, or the best chocolate icing  you could imagine.  Flowerless chocolate cake doesn't come close.

But... WATERMELON, in this context?    Well, it was at the back of Annalena's mind, until it moved to the FRONT, when the leader of her tour, Ms. Allison, published a short note, talking about "one of her favorite desserts," and she gave the name:  "gelo di melone."  "Watermelon pudding."  And a picture.  


AHA.   And now, things began to make sense in a non-sense making way.  "Gelo" does not mean pudding.  "Melone"  does not mean "watermelon."  It means MELON.  So we have "watermelon

pudding," with a name that doesn't mean watermelon pudding.  Sort of like there's no toad in the hole, in "toad in the hole"  , and , to quote Vonnegut  "no damn cat and no damn cradle"  in a cat's cradle. But it was all good.  Annalena was going to Sicily, and she would eat watermelon pudding in Sicily.

Except she didn't.  And this is why, ragazzi.  While we in the US boast about eating seasonally and locally,  for Sicilians, it's routine.  Annalena is serious:  as she was told, early on  "if you like something in a city we're visiting, eat a lot of it because you might not see it again."  Indeed.   There are many reasons for that, too many to go into here. Let us just say that Sicilians ate and eat locally and seasonally because they had to and have to.  Now,  even when they don't have to, most do.  Annalena smiles when her gal pal Alessia posts pictures of her foraging trips, her jams made of wild pears, the snails she gathers.  YES YES YES.

So, Annalena was in Sicily,  and she couldn't get her pudding.  But she read about it.  And just about every recipe talked about the use of jasmine in the pudding (there are other variations, especially with chocolate, pistachio and cinnamon, but jasmine was spoken of everywhere). 

You cannot escape jasmine in Sicily even if you want to.  It's sort of like the local flower.  And at night, when the fragrance comes out, it can be overpowering.  And Annalena assumed  that when it was used in this pudding, they used extract.  From her days in  chemistry, Annalena knew that jasmine is very difficult to extract, and is very expensive.  She also knew, from experience, that you do not find jasmine extract on the shelf next to the vanilla.  So, she figured she would make the watermelon pudding when she came back to NY and, even though it would be expensive, she would buy the extract in Sicily. 

HA!  Whenever Annalena asked about "stratto di gelsominio" she got looks along the lines of  "your Italian is BAD, but this one is REALLY BAD."  So, she asked some cooks and chefs who know more English than Annalena knows Italian.  They looked at Annalena strangely.  NO ONE knew what she was talking about. 

Then, in the Palermo open market, a middle Eastern man, who specialized in  herbs, extracts, and the like, heard the discussion and took pity on Annalena.  "Oh, no, we don't have that in Sicily. Why would we?  We have the flowers.  We use THEM." 

OH.  So, does "no damn cat and no damn cradle" begin to sound even more appropriate.  In the US, finding edible jasmine flowers is not something that is easily done, or even possible, so Annalena started her search for extract and found it.  And she collected recipes for "gelo di melone"  watermelon pudding, that isn't watermelon pudding.   It's easy.  You must make it.  But warned:  it is not a standard pudding, nor is it a standard dessert.  It may not be what you want as the weather gets cooler, but you should have it in your repertoire.  

Here we go.  We start with:

Yes, a watermelon.  Can you imagine that!  This one weighed in at about 5 pounds.  It was also seedless, which is not the preferred one for Sicilian "gelo," but it does the trick.  Need Annalena say it:  you cut the rind from this, trying to save as much fruit as possible.  This was a red watermelon.  Keep that in mind.  

After you have peeled the melon, and if necessary, pulled out the seeds, either put the chopped melon into a blender (NOT a food processor), or through a food mill.  Annalena did the former.  Measure your liquid:

Annalena got just over four cups.  More to the point:  do you see the color?  It's sort of pink and sort of mauve.  A VERY unusual color for a dessert.  Except in Sicily.

The amount of liquid you have, will determine how much of the next two ingredients you use:  cornstarch and sugar.  You'll use the same amount of each.  For six cups of liquid, you'll use a cup of each.  So, do some kitchen math:  4 cups is 2/3 of 6 cups, so you need 2/3 cup of cornstarch, and 2/3 cup of sugar.  

(what you will find in most pudding recipes, ragazzi, is that cornstarch is the thickener of choice.  You COULD use wheatstarch if you could find it).  

Ok, so you put the watermelon juice, the sugar, and the cornstarch into a pot, OFF the heat for now  (cornstarch needs to start cold, and become hot, to activate.  Annalena can give you the chemistry if you like):

Whisk everything together, and over low heat, keep whisking:

Keep your eye on the liquid.  In other words, this is NOT a recipe where you can go away and catch up on "Gattopardo" or Natalia Ginzburg, or Leonardo Sciascia, or any other Sicilian literary figure.  It will all happen very quickly, and in about 5-6 minutes, you will have:  

When this is hot, if you are going to add jasmine extract, add it, DROP BY DROP.  Annalena is very serious about this:  the stuff is strong.  Taste it after EACH drop.  (Truth is, for 4 cups of gelo, Annalena used 1/2 a teaspoon .  If she were eating it all herself, she'd use more. 

Then cool it down.  You need to eat this cold.  But there it is.  The color in these pictures, is not misleading:  that's what it looks like.  The texture is something like a very thick applesauce.    you can eat it "straight," which is how Annalena likes it.  Or put it on a cookie.  Or mold it into heart shapes, and stuff like that.  If you don't "feel" jasmine, sprinkle some ground pistachios (preferably from Erice), over it.  Or, put some grated chocolate.  Whipped cream, unsweetened, is a good thing with this.  So is a crispy biscotti.  

So again, Annalena has presented a recipe to you that probably takes less time to make, than it takes to read.  So, if you can still find local, seasonal watermelon, Annalena urges you to make this dish.  Let her know if you do.  And let her know what you think. 

We come home in different ways: cucuzza with tenerumi

Forewarned, ragazzi:  this one is a little emotional, and it's about a whole lot more than soup. 

"Home."  What does that mean to you?  Annalena remembers Garrison Keillor's comment along the lines of "home is the place where, when you go, they can't throw you out."  That's kind of bittersweet, but true, isn't it?    And she remembers the wonderful line in one of John Cheever's stories  "half the world is homesick all the time."  (And it's funny that we think of homesick as meaning a yearning to GO home, rather than being SICK of being home, but that's something Annalena leaves to others to  play with. 

In any event, Annalena truly thinks that, even if we're not at a place that would be considered our "home," we can find ourselves feeling like we belong:  like we are a part of that place.  Annalena hopes that you have such refuges.  She has found a few:  one of them was her visit to Torgiano in Umbria.  OH, that visit resonates more than any other part of her trip.  And.. SICILY.  One reads about "transformative events."  Annalena's trip to Sicily, was transformative.  In may ways.  She rethought food, water,  relationships, everything.  The trip was a year ago:  Annalena feels like she got back yesterday, and she wants to return to Sicily tomorrow.  And... she knows she'll be welcomed:  both by people she knows, and people she'll meet for the first time. 

So, now to the recipe of the day.  All of her life, Annalena had heard about "cucuzza," the big squash that Sicilians love.  And she looked forward to having it in Sicily.   And she didn't.  Oh, it was there:  it was EVERYWHERE.  But not on menus in restaurants, and Annalena asked why.  The reason she was given, made perfect sense to her  "everyone makes that at home and a restaurant can't make it better, so why would you pay for it outside?"

Perfectly sound thinking, but it means that if you're a visitor, you miss out.  And Annalena did.  So, she determined to learn how to make it.  

And talk about a coming home:  when she filtered through the recipes,  she learned, just like Dorothy did, that frequently, the answer is in your own backyard.  If you know how to make soup, you can make cucuzza with tenerumi.  All you need: are the cucuzza, and the tenerumi:

Those big pale green things are the cucuzze:  if you know Indian food, you will know them as "snake gourd."  And to the left of the cucuzze are the tenerumi:  these are the tendrils, and the vines, on which the squash grow.    And it is a testament to Sicilians, and how they think, that you use both of these in a soup: after all, once you pick the squash, if the greens are fresh.... 

Cucuzze can weigh up to 8 pounds when they're fully grown.  Use smaller ones:  do NOT do what Annalena's stepfather would do, and buy one 8 pounder, if you can buy 4 2 pounders.  And in any event, a 2-3 pound cucuzza, will give you plenty to work with. 

Your ingredients:  a red onion (always red, with Sicilian cooking), 2 cloves of garlic, 2 potatoes, coming in at about a total of a pound, a pound plus of very ripe tomatoes, your 2-3 pound cucuzza, and a large bunch of tenerumi:

Some of Annalena's friends are thinking  "this sounds like we're making vegetable soup," or "this sounds like we're making minestrone."  In fact, we are.  We're just changing things up a little. 

Now, the first thing you do, is go to those greens (the tenerumi), and cut off a generous inch at the bottom.  This portion is very tough, and it will never cook to tender.  Then, chop your cucuzza and your tenerumi.  (Some recipes tell you to peel the cucuzza.  Annalena looked at the skin of hers, tasted a piece raw, and decided it was not necessary):

Put these aside, while you prepare the rest of the vegetables.  IF you are fastidious (Annalena is not), then  you should peel the tomatoes first, or go with canned.  You'll need about 2 cups:

This is Sicilian food, so we're going to be generous with the olive oil:  pour a half a cup of GOOD stuff into a pot, and add the garlic, and the onion.  Bring your heat to medium, and cook for about five minutes.  After that, add the tomatoes, and cook for another five. 

Annalena wants you to see what happens when you use really good, ripe tomatoes:

The tomatoes have very much dissolved into an incredible stock.  And this is why you don't need chicken stock (which you will rarely see in Sicilian cooking).  When you have the tomatoes to this point, add the potatoes, the cucuzza, and the tenerumi, together with a quart of water.  Add a big teaspoon of salt,  and be ready to add more later.  Leave this uncovered, and let it cook, for 20 minutes.  Stir it every now and then, and check the potatoes to see how tender they are.  These are the "mark" for whether or not the soup is done.  During the cooking, you'll see the tenerumi go from a bright vibrant green, to a drab, almost brown color.  That's what happens with cooked greens, ragazzi.  Not much you can do.  

When it's done, you may see pieces of tomato skin floating around.  You should pull these out if you can, because they are not really edible.  (Annalena thinks of this as the lazy girl's way of skinning tomatoes).  

Taste this, and correct for salt, and then dish it up:

The careful reader may say - with good reason  "this is VEGAN.  This is GLUTEN FREE."  And they'd be right, on both counts.  See, the history of Sicily is such that, for the most part, the populace did not get to eat the meat from animals they raised:  they couldn't afford it.  And fishing, even on an island, is not an enterprise for people who are not well funded.  So, Sicilians developed one of the finest vegetable cuisines in the world.    So while you COULD do something like add some cheese rinds to this soup (the way we do for pasta e fagioli), why would you?  Annalena knows of some folks who add sliced hard boiled eggs to theirs and call it "Palermo style."  Ok, fine.  Annalena is not a fan of hard cooked eggs. She'll stick to this. 

In the time it took you to read this, you could make the soup.  And for getting this far,  Annalena wants to give you a link to one of her favorite homecoming songs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZsNDa6nFOw&list=PLX0O4AJMzcxY8P5A6dNKwa7jlmlJB_ZAU&index=19

Eat your veggies. And eat your chicken. Or not. And your cheese. Or not. And your bread. Or not. Versatile Cauliflower gratin

 Ragazzi, Annalena has to tell you that her life with cauliflower is a very odd one.  As a young one, she hated cauliflower, and knew to "feel sick" when the (then) nauseating smell of cauliflower  was about the apartment, and Nana was making it (Eventually, Nana gave up, because none of us liked it.). Go forward many years, and  Annalena is now a co-ed, going to parties, and being exposed to this exotic food called "crudite."  Almost always, there were cauliflower florets.  And, since that was when Annalena realized, very simply, that if she was going to get horizontal with more than her pillow, she needed to lose some weight, she began to eat these things.  And she liked them.  So, she learned how to cook the beast, and ate it and loved it, for nigh on 30 years.

One night, however, out of the blue, it began to nauseate her again.  No explicable reason why, it just happened.  So, Annalena was off the stuff again, for about 2 years.  Then, one day, without being pregnant, she had , what was for her, an odd craving for the stuff.  So, it was back.  And it hasn't left since then.

It does seem that in one way or the other, cauliflower is always with us.  It was not always so:  one ate cauliflower in the cold weather, and that still feels pretty darn right to Annalena:  all those cruciferous vegetables (so called, ragazzi, because their flowers  have a center piece that is shaped like a cross) do grow better and taste better in the colder months; however,  newer strains of cauliflower now abound, and you can get it just about any time of year.  And sometimes, you get too much of it.  That is what happened to Annalena, as all of a sudden, her CSA went rampant with cauliflower.   So with 4 pounds of the stuff around, Annalena had to do something.  And she did.  She served it with pesto,  for dinner, and next, found an amazing recipe from the amazing Martha Rose Schulman which she modified - as she does - to make what you see above.

Now, let Annalena be clear about this:  this may very well be the easiest thing she has cooked this year.  In fact, she made it this morning before she came to work.  She started after 8a.m., and was on her train at 8:45.  So, you can do it.

Originally, this was a vegetarian recipe; however, Annalena was thinking in terms of her Guyman coming home from his workout and needing PROTEIN.  So, since she also had an abundance of chicken breasts in the house, they went into the dish as well.  You don't need to use them.  Annalena shall make this clearer as we go through the recipe, because in fact, you can pare this recipe down to the point where it's vegetarian.  Not so much vegan wise though.  Ok, here we go.

First of all, coat a 9x13 non reactive pan with olive oil.  Keep it to the side, and preheat your oven to 400.  Now, get yourself a 2-3 pound head of cauliflower (or smaller ones), and break it into bite sized florets/groups of florets:

 If you are choosing to go the meat route, then get yourself a pound and  a half of boneless, skinless chicken breasts.  Salt them, and cut the chicken into nice, big chunks.  Bigger than bite size.  Try to emulate the cauliflower florets.  Get these into a  pan with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil and let this sizzle, for about three minutes, and ONLY then, stir it around to cook the other side.  You want to get some color , and you don't want the chicken to disintegrate.  It will, if you do not wait until you get a sear:

 While the chicken is cooking, drop the cauliflower into a pot of boiling, salted water, and cook it for 5-7 minutes.  Then, drain the stuff:

 Here's a look at the chicken, just about cooked.  You will see that some of it is pink, and that's fine.  It's all going into the oven.

 Next, time for our sauce.  The original recipe called for fresh goat cheese, and yes, Annalena was awash in that, too.  Now, some of you do not care for goat cheese.  Use ricotta.  Or sour cream.  Something soft, and not very assertive. You need about 8 ounces of it.  Also, a half cup of milk, and a little fresh thyme.  If you have a food processor, get it all in there.  If you don't, ask for one for your birthday and in the interim, get yourself an arms workout, by stirring the stuff until it's smooth and liquid:

Then, combine the chicken and cauliflower (or, just the cauliflower), in the baking dish, and spread the cheese coating over it:

 Finalmente, if you are so inclined, spread about a half cup of dry bread crumbs over it, and sprinkle 1-2 tablespoons of good quality olive oil over the thing.

 Put this in the oven for 20 minutes, at 400 degrees, and:

Annalena then put the whole thing under the broiler for 2 minutes, to give it some color.  And here we are: 

A VERY easy , very generous dish, ragazzi.  Certainly one that will serve as an excellent meal with a little salad.  If you are so inclined, you may want to put some peas in with the cauliflower, to add some color, or some left over cooked greens (Hmmm.  Annalena should have remembered the ubiquitous kale in her fridge).  If you are eating it without the chicken, just eat more of it.

Don't forget to share it, ragazzi.  That's what we're all about, aren't we?

This weekend will be a festa della cibo di Sicilia at la casa Annalena, ragazzi, so keep your eyes peeled.  Alla prossima.

There's a plenty: a BIG vegetable gratin

And hello all. Annalena, back from her travels, and she promises not to go too far for a while.  She was in France, and her beloved San Francisco, to go to some wonderful, WONDERFUL  weddings.  She is still processing them, and she loved them both. 

Just before she left, she cooked dishes to use up many of the vegetables in her fridge, and some of the fruit.  She's giving you these recipes, hoping that you will make them, including a shot at making your own jam- which is NOT as hard as you may think.   

We begin with a wonderful vegetable gratin, which makes a TON of a dish.   You can eat this for several meals, or share it, and you SHOULD share it, because it's very good. 

We begin with a fresh baguette.  FRESH ragazzi.  You may be reading soon, of Annalena's adventures in baguette land, because in France, well.. she fell in love with these again.   Now, what follows sounds easy, and it is not.  It is time consuming, and probably the most difficult thing you're going to do.  You're going to turn a baguette into big, fluffy crumbs, first by slicing it into pieces:

 And then, laboriously processing them, with the pulsing button, in your food processor, until you get big, wonderful, fat, soft crumbs.  This WILL take a while, and you have to be attentive, because you COULD burn out the motor if you are not:

After you have made the crumbs,  grate up about a cup of a strong cheese, of whatever persuasion you like, and mix it with the crumbs.   Add 1/4 cup of good quality olive oil, and then put the stuff aside, because now, we're going to cook.

The first step of this dish, involves making the base.  Here are our base ingredients:

What you have here are four garlic cloves, gently crushed, a couple of red peppers, chopped, and 2 yellow onions, sliced.  ALL of these available at your Farmers' Market, and in peak season, too.   You heat up another 1/4 cup of olive oil, add those vegetables with a pinch of red pepper flakes (some fresh herbs wouldn't hurt either:  thyme or rosemary come to mind).  Cook this on a very low flame for 20 minutes or so.  You'l get some browning, and a lot of reduction:

While these veggies are cooking, prepare some others.  First, let's start with a pound and a half of tomatoes.  That's not as many as you may think:

That, ragazzi, is a pound and a half of tomatoes.  Slice them into thick rounds, and put them on some paper towels, to absorb some moisture:

You're hearing Annalena say "put this to the side." Well, you're going to do this again, and leave them for about 15 minutes.  But, as our god Stephen Sondheim said  "bit by bit putting it together."  And we are.  

We now move to our zucchini, or more properly, our "mixed summer squash."  You can use whatever  you have here, and try to use different colors.  Slice up a 3 pounds of them, and then toss them with  yet another 1/4 cup of olive oil, and either the torn leaves of one small bunch of basil, or a few tablespoons of pesto.  That is what Annalena used here;

NOW we begin putting things together.  Remember those onions and peppers?  Well, pile that squash right on top of it:

(you can see the onions peeking out a little bit at the top right). Put this all in the oven, and bake it, at 425, for 30 minutes. It will not change much:

Now, while this squash/onion mixture is cooking, take those tomatoes,  and put them in a big pan with YET MORE olive oil!  2 tablespoons, and cook them at a low temperature for 8 minutes or so:

Unfortunately, Annalena did not take a picture of the cooked tomatoes.  They get softer than above, of course, but they keep their shape when you cook them for only 8 minutes. 

FINAL ASSEMBLY COMING UP!  Take those cooked tomatoes, and put them over the squash, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  And finally, pour those soft  breadcrumbs mixed with cheese over the tomatoes.  And... yup, you guessed it:  2 tablespoons of olive oil over all.  Turn the oven up to 450, put the whole thing in, uncovered, and bake for about 30 minutes

Here's how it goes in.  Now, after 30 minutes, it will be crisp, but not pretty.   You want pretty?  Turn on the broiler.  Two minutes:

And you've made a vegetable dish that can serve an army.  Seriously, ragazzi, Annalena served ten people with this, and she could have served more.  But she gave big portions. After all , "it's vegetarian, " right.  (Incidentally, you COULD leave out the cheese, and make this vegan.  Up  to you).

The clever cooks out there will see room for variation.  Annalena applauds you.  Do it once or twice while the summer vegetables are still at their peak.  Seriously, ragazzi, early fall is the BEST time of year for produce.  You could very easily be overwhelmed by the variety available.  Use them while you can, because we will all be missing them in the winter.  Now, go get that baguette, visit your farmers market, and TELL ANNALENA ABOUT YOUR TOASTY GRATINS!!!!