Saturday morning, I woke up to June gloom. I love the weird Southern California dreariness right now because it reminds me of Portland/San Francisco/London- weather. And this in turn, inspired me to make a hearty breakfast to kick off my weekend.

My quest to use leftover produce ensued. Loosely inspired by Jamie’s Asparagus Frittata, I decided to make a veggie frittata in my cast iron skillet.

I dug around the fridge and not only did I find asparagus sans tips, but I found zucchini and a ton of herbs and leeks. Nothing like a leeky, herby, vegetable frittata! I contemplated throwing in strips of bacon but luckily for my arteries, I was out. SIDENOTE: My colleagues and I were discussing the top 10 ingredients to save a foul dish with and bacon was one of them–along with red pepper flakes, lemon juice, salt…etc.

I sautéed the leeks with the vegetables in a knob of butter until the leeks began to brown, seasoned the stir-fry with salt and pepper, and poured in the salted, whisked eggs (I used 6). And before I placed everything in the preheated oven, I sprinkled a bunch of parsley and chives on top. The skillet went in the oven and 15 minutes later, breakfast was ready. My roommate and I enjoyed the frittata together and for just a second, I felt like I was somewhere in the Italian countryside.

And then I heard Lil Wayne outside of my window.

After two weeks of nonstop kitchen work, I’ve amassed a produce-cornucopia in my refrigerator. Of course, dealing with leftovers is not something I’m normally very good at. Luckily, Jamie Oliver is. Most of his recipes are simple enough that they could be easily done up or abridged. I kicked off the last few nights of with pre-sliced, pre-washed ingredients from my fridge and a few canned goods I’ve been meaning to clean out of my pantry. With some inspiration from his salad recipes, I decided to make a (mostly) fresh faux tuna nicoise salad.


fresh faux tuna nicoise salad
salad
1 head Romaine, washed
1/3 cup canned white beans, rinsed
1/4 cup diced red onions
1 can tuna in oil
1/3 cup sliced cucumbers
1/3 cup leftover thyme-and-garlic-roasted potatoes
mint
parsley
chives

vinaigrette
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon champagne vinegar
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper


Combine all salad ingredients. Add vinaigrette. Toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper. Serve with a glass of Zin (I’m on a Zinfandel kick right now).

I'm not very good at poaching eggs, don't hate.


For the most part, I have a pretty nondiscriminatory palate. I can eat and enjoy most things. But I’m embarrassed to say that I have qualms about soup. Soup has always been a hurdle. I would cringe whenever the school cafeteria decided to serve grilled cheese with a side of tomato soup. During those lunches, I would try to barter for bags of Flaming Hot Cheetos or tamarind candy. Dinners were just as dramatic. My grandmother, who claimed that her daikon soup would “cure” me of my brattiness and simultaneously stimulate my growth spurt, would scold me for rejecting her steaming hot saucepan of Asian vegetable-goulash. And if her blood wasn’t boiling enough, I’d open a can of Coke and call it “soup”. An angry tirade in Sichuanese would ensue.

Soup is always served too hot, or not hot enough; it lacks distinct flavors when the temperature is at either extremes. It’s like living in Manhattan. There are only a few occasions when the temperature is just right. And soup that comes silky smooth, as if it had been run through a sieve 5 or more times, loses its place in the “food” category. It becomes “beverage” or worse, “smoothie”.

My Jamie Oliver soup experience was kind of a fluke. I picked up scraggly-looking asparagus at the farmer’s market and wanted to find an easy recipe that called for asparagus. His Creamy Asparagus Soup with a Poached Egg on Toast came up, a sign that it was time to transform my aversion towards soup into something conducive to my learning.

So zuppa it was! Jamie’s recipe is easy and seemingly healthy. I started by cooking a mirepoix that consisted of leeks (left over from the fish dish), onions, and celery. Of course my house–and hair–smelled wonderful at this point. Every step that followed was straightforward and easy.

The only mishap happened when the blender, filled with hot soup mind you, exploded. I guess I didn’t really pay attention in my Physics class because hot liquid + blender = scary. My kitchen counter looked like lawn mower-vomit.

Though I’m not quite a changed woman, I do think that farm-fresh ingredients and plenty of good quality olive oil can heighten the quality of any soup. Maybe the painstaking process of blitzing the soup in a blender made me appreciate the finished product… I guess it’s kind of like dating. Yes, it's that other painstaking process that I'm still trying to figure out.



Anorexic asparagus mixing it up with the regular-sized crowd.


Mire poix, sautéed until soft.


Post-blitz.

RECIPE HERE Creamy Asparagus Soup with a Poached Egg on Toast


COOKED FROM