A Snackable Dinner for the Long Weekend

Plus a selection of wines for each.

It’s a hot August night.

The sun has spent the better part of the day lasering into the west-facing wall of windows in our un-air-conditioned cottage. Even though the fat, pink orb is sinking quickly into the still-as-glass lake, cooling the outside air to mercifully fresh, our summer home stubbornly holds tight to the heat of the day, as if it knows the deep-freeze that usually tunnels into the walls will return without warning.

In stunned desperation to escape the stagnancy, we’re cruelly forcing the ceiling fan to whirl so fast, it’s nearly off its hinges, threatening to decapitate us all out of anger of being worked so unusually hard. Earlier this week, we had a fire blazing in the early mornings of a cold cottage, its shadows tickling the quiet ceiling fan blades. Smug and still, little did the fan know what was coming for it.

This late-summer heat wave is particularly punishing. The season has been mediocre at best, and I’ve been lulled into complacency. It’s been mostly raining this year (the wettest on record for Ontario), so of course lots of accompanying humidity. Yes, there were supremely hot days, but I can count the “pool worthy” ones on one hand, when in normal summers I’m poolside all weekend and even steal a few weekdays to work on a chaise lounge.

When I hear of friends in Italy or the western US moan that it’s “too hot to cook,” I’m generally baffled. In my temperature-controlled place in the city, the air condition makes it perfect to cook any time. At the cottage, three hours northwest of Toronto, as I’ve said, it’s generally cool enough – even cold enough – inside the house that turning on the stove is not harrowing.

But this week. This week. I am fully empathetic to the plights of the sun-stricken and a/c-less.

We’ve made some pivots in light of our heat-induced delirium. Instead of boiling potatoes for potato salad, we grill wedges on the barbecue and serve them like fries. We leave the oven alone and bake our pizzas with indirect heat on the grill. Even corn, which I generally prefer boiled, gets cooked outside.

This al fresco kitchen situation works well here, as we all saunter back from a day at the beach, slick with sunscreen, sand sticking to our bottoms and feet. No matter how long we stand in the outdoor shower trying to rid ourselves of the day’s surf and turf, inevitably there is always more ready to tumble all over the floor when the bathing suit is eventually peeled off.

But truly, I am in a holding pattern for fall. I know every middle-aged, white lady worships at the altar of autumn, but it’s not just because summer adds sea salt to the wounds of perimenopausal hot flashes.

Summer – hot, humid, oppressive summer – is more of a season of assemblages for dinner, rather than cooking. Salads, lots and lots of salads, veggies with all kinds of dips, watermelon and pineapple and berries. When it’s really hot, it’s bits of this and bobs of that gathered from leftovers in the fridge.

But I am a cook. I feel somewhat forlorn when I’m away from the stove for too long. I like the rhythms and rituals of basting, searing, roasting, and braising. The slapdash of summer dining, while a fun novelty for a while, runs its course fairly quickly with me. My sister, a staunch devotee of beach life, is similar – at least when it comes to cooking. While floating on inner tubes in the clear shallows of Lake Huron, we planned our Thanksgiving menu.

(Before you accuse me of being a summer bah-humbug, please refer to these excellent recipes for mussels, fried chicken, and hearty summer salads, all of which have been feasted upon with loyal dedication.)

As the final long weekend of summer approaches, our plan, if this heat holds, is to spend it outside as long as possible. Dinner, yet again, will be a selection of snacks, truly one of my favourite styles of eating no matter the season.

Summer’s relaxed nature allows me an excuse to forgive the rigid menu planning. Cottage living grants us the freedom to serve whatever’s around. Indeed, it’s a whimsical and winding road to get to dinners and snacks.

Last night it was leftover potato salad, sliced Kumato tomatoes with olive oil and Thai basil, a Margherita pizza, and a few grilled chorizo sausages.

Cocktail hour served snacks of fennel bruschetta on sourdough, raw cucumber with hummus, pistachios and kettle chips.

Despite my penchant for fall cooking, the carefree soul of summer is quite possibly the dinner style I crave the most.

Forgive the grainy photo, this was taken at night and I had to boost the light so you could actually see the peppers.

Madrid-Style Shishito Peppers

Madrid is one of my favourite cities on earth. Specifically, the Huertas neighbourhood, which has a captivating energy thanks to its millions of bars, restaurants, and shops.

One of my favourite things to do was take my daily apéro in the sun-drenched Santa Ana square, indulge in a gigantic gin and tonic and stuff my face with everything from jamon croquettas, patatas bravas, and blistered padrón peppers.

Padrón peppers are tougher to find in Toronto, where I live, but the very similar shishitos are abundant, so I use these instead. They take 5 minutes to prepare, and disappear in less time than that.

A word of warning: eating shishito and padrón peppers is a game of culinary Russian Roulette. Most of them are mild, but every once in a while, you’ll get one so hot it nearly blows your head off. And, just like any temptress, it’s impossible to tell the danger until you’re committed.

Makes: ½ lb pound
Chef level: Easy

Ingredients:

• ½ lb shishito peppers, washed and leaving them wet

• 2 Tbsp olive oil

• 2 Tbsp sherry vinegar

• Maldon salt, for finishing

How to Make It:

1. Warm the olive oil in a wide frying pan over medium heat.

2. Carefully add the washed shishitos to the hot oil – they will crackle loudly and spurt, so be aware.

3. Toss the pan occasionally, allowing them to sear, blistering the skin and turning black in places.

4. Turn off the heat but leave the pan on the burner, immediately pouring in the vinegar. This will also steam up and spurt so stand back.

5. Give them a quick toss to coat all the peppers in vinegar and pour into a serving bowl.

6. Sprinkle with Maldon salt and serve warm with a bright glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

Also please forgive this photo. It is indeed of whipped ricotta, but topped with truffle honey (also excellent). I have a zillion photos of the MAKING of the charred scallion ricotta, but apparently neglected to take photos of the results. What can I say? I drink for a living.

Whipped Ricotta with Charred Scallion

A saw this recipe in Saveur magazine earlier this summer. It’s so good, it reminds me, in all the best ways, of the Lipton French Onion Soup Mix dip of my youth. (Forgive me, Saveur.)

Of course, I’ve made a small tweak here and there, but the credit should rightfully go to Saveur. Unless my tweaks offend the writer, in which case, this is mine.

This would make a flavourful and cooling base for the shishitos.

Makes: almost two cups
Chef level: Easy

Ingredients:

• 2 Tbsp neutral oil, such as vegetable or canola

• 4 green onions, washed well and sliced length-wise in half into long strips

• 1 cup full fat ricotta

• 1 Tbsp honey

• 1 tsp Kosher salt

• ¼ cup 10% heavy cream

• Zest of one lemon

How to Make It:

1. Warm the oil in a frying pan over medium heat.

2. Add the green onions to the hot oil and allow to cook for 3-4 minutes until slightly brown, but not crisp and burnt.

3. Remove from the heat and allow to cool lightly while you assemble your other ingredients

4. Into a food processor, add the rest of the ingredients (ricotta through lemon zest), and pour in onions and the oil they were cooked in (it’s fine if they’re still warm, you just don’t want hot oil straight from the stove to go in.)

5. Blend until smooth and creamy.

6. Serve as a sip with veggies, chips, or pita, and a cold glass of Chardonnay.

Puff Pastry Pizzas

Speaking of borrowing recipes, this one is from

Skye McAlpine

’s wonderful book A Table in Venice.

In her recipe, she tops pizzettes with thinly sliced zucchini – a win for all you zucc lovers out there up to your ears in summer squash right now. She also cuts the pastry into rounds, which makes for a pretty presentation.

I’ve adapted it somewhat to my tastes, leaving out the zucchini, and keeping the pastry cut into squares to avoid waste. Instead of Skye’s recommended peeled tomatoes that are drained and chopped and drained some more, I streamline the process with passata.

I sometimes just leave the pizzettes with cheese, but I love the tangy bite of adding sliced green olives and fiery Calabrian peppers. Just be aware of the delicate nature of the puff pastry. It’s tempting to fully load the pizzettes, but this is a light bite, not a deep dish pizza, so add your toppings with a gentle hand.

Ingredients:

• 1 sheet (225g) frozen puff pastry, thawed

• 300g passata

• 220g mozzarella

• Optional: green olives, caramelized onion, Calabrian peppers, pancetta

How to Make It:

1. Heat the oven to 425°F

2. Line a baking tray with parchment paper.

3. Lightly dust a clean work surface with flour and unroll the thawed puff pastry. Using a sharp knife cut the pastry into equally sized squares.

4. Lightly score an inner square, being careful not to go through the pastry, within each piece to create a small border.

5. Bake the plain pastry for about 10 minutes until light yellow. Leave the oven on.

6. Remove from the oven, and gently deflate the middles if they’ve puffed up, with the back of a spoon.

7. Spoon a dollop of passata into the centre of each pastry square and top with mozzarella and any additional toppings you may be using.

8. Return the pizzettes to the oven, baking for another 10-15 minutes (keep an eye) until the cheese has melted and the pastry toasty brown.

9. Serve with crisp, cold Prosecco.

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xo – Erin