I’ve toasted them.
I’ve smeared them with cream cheese and jam.
I’ve piled slices of silky smoked salmon on them.
But until now, I had never stir-fried a bagel.
Yes, you read that right.
Of all the recipes in award-winning cookbook writer Grace Young’s new book, “Stir-Frying to the Sky’s Edge” (Simon & Schuster) that had me running to grab my wok — and there are many — the one that most intrigued me was this unusual one for “Stir-Fried Bagels with Cabbage and Bacon.”
These long beans, measuring about a half yard in length, are a staple for me in Chinese cooking.
Snipped into manageable lengths, they cook up quickly for all-manner of stir-fry dishes.
But after snagging a couple of bunches recently at my local farmers market, I decided to give them a more Mediterranean treatment.
Cut into about 2-inch lengths and briefly blanched in the microwave, I used them as the basis for a quick salad that also made good use of preserved lemons from my fridge, as well as lemon thyme and lemon verbena, both growing miraculously in my backyard, despite my oft-black thumb. Some chopped parsley, crumbled feta, a squirt of lemon juice, a glug of olive oil, and a grind of black pepper completed it.
The slender, sturdy long beans have more crunch than regular ol’ slippery green beans on the palate. They also stand up well to the assertive flavors of the salty cheese and preserved lemon.
Forgive me if I sound like a used cob salesman, but “Have I got a corn salad for YOU!”
Let me tell you: I have been making this “Corn, Tomato and Scallion Salad” since it was first published in Gourmet magazine in 2000.
Yes, folks, that’s 10 years of enjoying this corn salad. How’s that for a ringing endorsement?
I make it every summer, at least a couple of times of year. If you’ve been to my house in the summer, you’ve had this salad. I’ve made it so often, I could make it in my sleep.
That’s how easy it is.
My late-Dad never met an egg he didn’t savor.
Indeed, among my earliest memories of my father are of him standing at the stove on weekends, cracking eggs. Sometimes he’d fry them up in butter, sunny-side up or scramble them with diced Spam or leftover bits of Chinese barbecued pork.
Other times, he’d flip them into omelets stuffed with melted cheddar cheese and sweet-acidic stewed tomatoes from a can. And now and then, he’d delicately bake them in individual Pyrex dishes dusted with bright paprika and Kraft Parmesan shaken right out of the familiar green can.
My Dad’s love of eggs didn’t stop at breakfast. Occasionally, when we’d sit down to a dinner of various Chinese dishes at home, my Dad would be at the stove, frying up an egg over-easy, which he deposited on top of the mound of steamed white rice on his plate. Then, he’d drizzle on a little thick, savory oyster sauce. I’d watch him break the bright yolk with his fork until it ran over the pearly grains. He never said a word as he took that first bite. But I could tell just from his contented expression that this simple combination of rice and egg was one that brought him untold comfort.
Is it any wonder that one of the first things I learned to cook by myself were eggs? I learned just by watching my Dad all those mornings, so that by the time I was in elementary school, I could whip up an omelet just like that or scramble a few eggs until they were lovely, fluffy, soft curds.
Even today, I share my Dad’s appreciation of eggs. No matter what time of day, if you have these inexpensive staples in the fridge, you have have the makings of a simple, satisfying meal. They’ve saved me many a time when I needed nourishment in a hurry for a harried lunch or late dinner.
When I saw “Shirred Eggs in Prosciutto Crudo Cups” in the new “Ham: An Obsession with the Hindquarter” (Stewart, Tabori & Chang) by my friends, the prolific cookbook authors, Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough, I knew it would be the perfect dish to make near Father’s Day in memory of my late-Dad.
To be sure, my Dad probably never even knew the term, “shirred.” No doubt, he would have thought the addition of prosciutto too fancy. Still, there’s no mistaking that at its heart, this dish of baked eggs is very reminiscent of what my Dad used to make for me as a child.
At this time of year, who can’t get enough of those glorious little sweet orbs that crunch and squirt fuchsia-hued juice everywhere when you bite into them?
Luckily for me, I have CJ Olson Cherries in my hood. The charming fruit stand in Sunnyvale is a testament to times past, when the shopping center now surrounding it was instead lush cherry orchards. Those trees may be gone now, but the stand, which has been family-run there since 1899, remains the place to buy cherries.
When I stopped by a week ago, there were close to half a dozen varieties to choose from, including those lovely rosy-yellow Rainiers. But which to bake with? That was the question on my mind. The helpful clerk suggested the classic Bing, because it’s what Olson’s uses in its famous cherry pies that are so flaky, buttery and bursting with fruit that you simply can’t say “no” to a slice or two or three.
The Bing, he advised, has a quite crisp exterior, which helps it keep its shape better when baked. It also has a more complex flavor with almost a wine-y quality, which will give any baked good a lot more depth and nuance.
I toted home my bag of deep burgundy-colored cherries and set to work with my handy-dandy pitter.
They were destined for a special treat — “Cherry Focaccia with Rosemary.”
I took an original recipe for “Red Grape Focaccia” from the October 2006 issue of Cuisine at Home magazine, only I swapped out the grapes for cherries instead.