Tapenade is seriously savory, salty business. Think of it as a kind of pate made with black olives—with some anchovies, capers, and olive oil thrown in for good measure. Some recipes for this Provencal spread include lemon juice. Some are a extra pungent from the addition of a little tuna and mustard powder.

Capers (along with olives) are one of the common ingredients across most tapenade recipes.

Capers are actually pickled flower buds and come in two different basic varieties at the store: nonpareil (small) and caperberries (larger, about the size of an olive). Buy the nonpareils for this recipe. Capers are usually sold in a jar of brine, but you can sometimes find them packed in salt. For salt packed, give them a quick rinse before using.

Find capers in the same aisle as olives in most American supermarkets.

Many uses for tapenade

So, I’m one of those who frequently grazes on wine and cheese for dinner, so this stuff is right up my alley. It’s great smeared on crackers that you’ve topped with a little cheese.

You can use the thick black paste as a dip for fresh veggies. Whisk it with olive oil for a flavorful salad dressing or toss a few spoonfuls with hot pasta for an impromptu sauce.

Slather it on homemade roast beef sandwiches. Dollop a little on top of a steaming bowl of tomato soup.

I also really like to mash a few spoonfuls into butter, then roll it into a log for a delicious compound butter. Pop it in the fridge ’til hard, then whack off thick rounds to garnish freshly grilled meats and seafood.

Basically, make it. Taste it. Go to town.

There are a zillion variations on the recipe out there. This is how I make mine.

Or at least, this is what I did the last time I made it, tossing in a little thyme and a shot or so of cognac. It never comes out quite the same, but that never really matters. It’s forgiving and imprecise and fast—like most of my favorite recipes.

Oh, and don’t limit yourself to just black olives. Use your favorite green olives, or a mix of green and black. Kalamata olives are probably my favorite for this. David Lebovitz has an artichoke tapenade that looks delicious. You get the picture.

Traditional tapenade from Provence is pounded out by hand with a mortar and pestle. You can do that. A food processor works almost as well.

Wait, anchovies? Is it fishy?

In this recipe, the anchovies do what they do best—melt into the spread and bolster the depth of flavor of the other ingredients. In other words, no, it’s not fishy.

Like capers, you’ll find anchovies two ways at the market: packed in oil, or packed in salt. (I tend to avoid the ones in salt, since you have to bone them and soak them in milk or water, both of which are kind of a pain.) I prefer the kind in oil, because all you have to do is drain them.

Tapenade

12 oz. black olives, pitted
4 anchovy filets
3 Tbls. capers
2 cloves garlic
1 Tbls. fresh thyme
freshly cracked black pepper
1/4 cup olive oil
drizzle of cognac
kosher salt (very optional…taste your tapenade before you sprinkle any in)

Makes about 2 1/2 cups

Assemble and chop your tapenade

Grab your olives.

Toss them into the bowl of your food processor along with the anchovy filets.

Add the capers.

And the thyme, garlic, and black pepper.

Cap your food processor and process on high for a minute or two, stopping to scrape down the sides with a rubber spatula if you see it getting stuck.

You’re aiming for a coarse chop, like this:

Next, drizzle in the olive oil, with the machine running. Last but not least, drizzle in the cognac and give it a quick whirl to incorporate.

You’ll wind up with a thick paste. Have a nibble, and correct the seasoning to your taste (toss in a little salt, or more pepper, or a squirt of lemon juice, etc.).

Your tapenade will keep for about a week in the fridge.

Serve and enjoy!

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We’ve been pining for summer weather here in Boston. It’s been cold, dreary, and drizzly for days. This pasta salad is like a little dose of summer—it’s cool, creamy, and an absolutely fabulous thing to bring to a picnic or barbecue. Assuming, that is, that the sun ever comes out.

Here’s how to put this pasta salad together—as well as a step-by-step guide for how to clean and de-vein fresh shrimp. My recipe calls for about a pound of fresh shrimp, but scale the amount up or down to fit your budget and what looks good at the fish market.

I like to make it with fresh fettuccine, but use any kind of pasta you like.

For the fresh goat feta, I used cheese that I picked up on a recent adventure to Sweet Pea Farm in Connecticut. (More on that to come soon.)

If you can’t find goat feta, swap in any fresh goat cheese you can find—you may just need to add less of it, depending on how salty the cheese you choose is. (Fresh goat feta is very mild.)

On to the recipe!

Pasta Salad with Shrimp, Goat Feta, and Basil

1 lb fresh fettuccine (or other pasta you like)
3/4 – 1 lb. large fresh shrimp
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 tsp. fresh rosemary, minced
1 clove garlic, mashed
1 cup fresh goat cheese feta
1 cup basil, loosely packed
freshly cracked black pepper
1 Tbls. chives, minced
kosher salt

Serves 4-6

Cook and drain the pasta

Bring a large pot of water to boil on the stove. Add your pasta.

Toss in a little salt.

Cook until it’s done to your liking. (I shoot for a little on the al dente side.)

When your pasta is cooked, drain it. Then rinse it well with cold water until it’s cold to the touch. (That’s important, and will help keep your pasta from getting gummy and clumping together.)

Transfer the pasta to a large mixing bowl when it’s drained.

Set it aside while you deal with the shrimp.

How to clean and de-vein fresh shrimp

Now, technically, you can eat the whole shrimp—shell and vein and feet and all. (We just saw Duff Goldman from Charm City Cakes raving about fried shrimp heads on TV, in fact.) Most folks however, like to remove the vein for aesthetic reasons.

So! Grab your shrimp. Keep them cold while you clean them by setting them in a bowl of ice. (To make this operation even easier, shell and de-vein your shrimp in the sink, under cold running water.)

Pull the shell away from the body of the shrimp, including all the little feet, if they’re still attached. Pull the tail off gently, so you don’t rip off much of the meat.

Your shrimp should look about like this:

Flip him around and take a look at his back. You should see a black line running down the center. This may be fat or thin (so thin that it’s barely visible), depending on the shrimp.

Make a shallow slice along the black line with a small, sharp knife.

Your shrimp should look about like this:

Spread the shrimp apart. You should see that icky, black line.

Scrape or pull it out with your knife, so it’s totally gone, like this:

Repeat with your other shrimp. Keep them on ice as you finish them to ensure they stay cold.

How to cook the shrimp

Shrimp are easy to overcook. But they don’t have to be. For this dish, I use gentle heat and don’t walk away from the stove while they’re in the pan.

Put the olive oil, garlic, and rosemary in a large non-stick pan. Give it a stir. Set it on the stove over medium heat for a minute or two to help release the flavors into the oil.

Add the shrimp.

Cook them for maybe 2 minutes on this side.

After a minute or two, your shrimp should be a rosy pink underneath. They should also be opaque on that side. When you see that, flip ‘em over.

Cook them on this side for another one or two minutes.

They should be slightly curled at this point—but not tightly curled.

When a shrimp is cooked, it’s opaque. (See on this one, the top half of the shrimp is opaque, but the bottom is still kind of translucent because it’s not done yet.)

When the shrimp are pink and opaque on the bottom, take the pan off the heat.

Let them sit in the pan, off the heat, for another minute to finish cooking through to the center.

Transfer them to a dish or plate and set them aside. Reserve the oil from the pan. That’s going into the pasta salad.

(Mmmmm, shrimp. Better give one a nibble, just to…you know…be totally sure they’re done.)

Assemble the pasta salad

Fluff up your pasta a little to be sure it’s not at all stuck together. (If it is, rinse it again in cold water, then drain it well.)

Pour the oil and juices from the pan into the bowl with the pasta.

(Mmmmm, garlic.)

Toss in the basil. Then add the goat feta.

Chop the shrimp up.

I like medium-sized pieces, like this:

Toss the chopped shrimp into the bowl.

Toss in the chives. Grind on some black pepper. Squeeze on the lemon (pick out any seeds).

Now, you can mix this up with tongs or a few wooden spoons. I tend to use my hands, especially with a long noodle like fettuccine. It’s gentler on the pasta.

You want the ingredients to be evenly distributed. Give it a taste, and toss in a little salt if you think it needs it (and depending on the type of cheese you used).

I don’t like to keep cooked seafood for more than one day, so I usually make this no earlier than the night before I want to serve it.

If it needs it when it comes out of the fridge, you can toss in a little extra olive oil to loosen it up.

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I have another confession to make. When I was a little mouse, one of my absolute favorite treats was a mayonnaise sandwich. Yep, you heard right. A big dollop of Hellmann’s spread on a slice of white bread, then folded in half. (Jam sandwiches, a la Paddington Bear, were a close second.) These days, I still love my mayo. Here are step-by-step instructions for how to make my version of aioli, Miss. Mayonnaise’s sophisticated French cousin.

Making mayonnaise at home may sound daunting, but it really isn’t. (Can I get an “amen?” Who else out there makes their own mayo?)

You can use a hand-held electric mixer to make it, or do it the old-fashioned way—with a whisk and a little elbow grease (your biceps will thank you).

Back up, Mouse. Just what is mayonnaise, anyways?

Good question. The main ingredients in mayonnaise are egg yolks and oil.

The oil is whipped together with the egg yolk bit by bit, so that it emulsifies. This part needs to be done slowly. If you dump in all the oil at once, it just won’t work. You need to build the emulsion bit by bit.

Add a little vinegar, a little salt, and a little lemon juice, and eventually that gloriously thick and piquant condiment so many of us know and love will begin to emerge.

One of the great things about making your own mayo is that you control exactly what goes in it, and can skip the emulsifiers and stabilizers found in a lot of commercial products.

Plus, it’s kind of fun to say, “Hey, that mayo? I made it myself!”

OK, so what is aioli, then?

Pronounced “ay-O-lee,” aioli is a garlicky mayonnaise that comes from the Provence region of Southern France. It’s often served as a garnish or dipping sauce for seafood, veggies, and some meats.

Peppery Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato Sandwich with Prosciutto

But, like regular mayo, the uses for aioli are kind of unlimited. You can slather it on an indulgent BLT. You can drizzle it in soup. Or serve it with fried potatoes. Or dip chips in it. You get the picture.

About eating raw eggs

Here’s the obligatory raw egg warning: Consuming raw or undercooked eggs, beef, fish and/or poultry may increase your risk of food borne illness, especially if you have certain medical conditions. Use pasteurized egg yolk, if you like.

Homemade Garlic Mayonnaise (a.k.a. Aioli)

1 egg yolk
1 tsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 tsp. white wine vinegar
1/4 tsp. mustard
1/2 tsp. salt
3/4 cup olive oil
1 garlic clove, mashed

Yields about one cup of mayo. Keeps for about 3 days in the fridge.

Beat the egg yolk with the vinegar and lemon

Grab your egg yolk.

Toss it into a medium-sized bowl with the lemon juice, vinegar, mustard, and salt. For a thinner mayo, add a little more lemon juice.

Beat them together with a whisk or handheld mixer until well combined.

Add the olive oil by the teaspoon

This isn’t as silly or tedious as it sounds. Measure out your olive oil.

Add a teaspoon of the olive oil into the egg mixture.

Beat with a whisk until the olive oil is completely combined. The mixture should be yellow, frothy, and opaque. You want to beat it until all the droplets of olive oil have disappeared.

Repeat this process—adding a teaspoon, then beating to emulsify it—until you’ve added about 1/4 cup of the oil. As you go, the mixture should begin to turn a creamy yellow, and become more and more opaque.

When you’ve added 1/4 of a cup of oil by the spoonful, your emulsion should be off to a really good start.

It should coat the back of a spoon like this, but should still be pretty thin.

Drizzle in the rest of the olive oil

Start to drizzle the oil in, beating it as you go to incorporate it completely. Go slowly, and be patient. If you add the oil too fast, or dump it in all at once, the oil will overwhelm the emulsion you’ve built and it will separate.

After a minute or two of drizzling and beating, your mayo should start to look very creamy, like this:

When all the oil has been incorporated, the mayo should be thick, glossy, and opaque.

It should stick to the back of a spoon, like this:

Add the mashed garlic and whisk to combine.

Give it a taste, and add a little more salt if you like. When you’re happy with it, pour the mayo into a glass jar or bowl.

Cover it well and pop it into the fridge. It will thicken up more as it gets cold.

Use within 3 days or so.

Enjoy!

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Recently, my mom and I took a little road trip around the countryside in Northern Connecticut. When we happened across The Garlic Farm in West Granby, we knew we had to pull in and investigate. Here’s a photo tour of the farm, a bunch of info on garlic scapes (including how to cook them), plus a super simple recipe for some of the most garlicky, mouthwatering pesto you’ve ever had.

Now, it’s going to sound silly, but garlic is one of those things that kind of seems like it just…you know…appears. I’ve never really given much thought to the plant that it comes from—or the idea that there might be whole farms dedicated to growing the stuff.

I certainly had no idea what a garlic scape was or what to do with it in the kitchen.

A basket of garlic scapes at The Garlic Farm in West Granby, CT

Wait, let me back up and set the scene.

How can you resist this sign?

So Mom and I were driving along. We had just come from Wilhelm Farmstand. I’m not sure how any garlic-lover could pass this sign without stopping.

This sign cinched it for us, though. Mom and I looked at each other, both with the same thought: What the heck is a scape?

We turned down the dirt road, and made our way to the barn which was nestled at the end of two swaths of tall, arching trees.

What is a garlic scape, anyways?

A garlic scape, as it turns out, is a flowering stalk that shoots wildly off a garlic plant.

It’s long and thin, and twists into a whimsical curly-que.

We parked and made a beeline for the rows of green baskets outside.

They were overflowing with garlic scapes. As we got closer to the barn, there was just the mildest hint of fresh garlic on the breeze. My mouth started to water just a little and I immediately wondered: “How do I cook these things, because they must be amazing?”

Garlic farmers cut the scape off so that the garlic plant can concentrate on making the garlic bulb bigger.

The scape itself looks kind of like a coiled, green rubber tube.

If left on the plant, the end will eventually explode into a pretty purple flower. You can see the beginning of the flower bulging here:

When you cut into them, they kind of have the consistency of fresh, young asparagus. They have a fabulous and green garlicky scent.

Inside the barn at The Garlic Farm

The farm itself is in a charming, converted tobacco barn.

There are tobacco barns all over this part of Connecticut. Quite literally, they’re barns in which tobacco leaves are hung to dry. Today, the barn’s rafters are used to hang and dry The Garlic Farm’s impressive harvest of organic garlic.

Tobacco barns are really neat and can be surprisingly bright inside, since every other slat on the barn is hinged and opens. (This was originally to help get enough air to the tobacco leaves.)

A hinged slat on The Garlic Farm’s barn

Inside, they sell a handful of seasonal, native produce. In fact, the farm is having a tomato tasting in early August. They’ll have about a dozen varieties of tomatoes to sample.

(The Garlic Farm is located at 76 Simsbury Road in West Granby, Connecticut. For more information, visit their website or call 860-653-0291.)

As delicious as the strawberries looked, though, we were there for the garlic scapes.

Into the garlic fields!

I took a walk out to the garlic field, to take a peek at the plants firsthand.

As I got closer, I could see the garlic scapes twirling around.

Here’s one up close:

On the edge of the field, we spotted a few Swallowtail butterflies, stopping for a mineral-rich, muddy drink.

How to cook with garlic scapes

As it turns out, the good folks at The Garlic Farm not only grow and sell organic garlic and garlic scapes, they do a fair amount of education about them, too. All their garlic is grown from seed and is organic.

(Gary Cirullo , the owner, signed the Connecticut NOFA pledge, which means he’s committed to running his farm with sound economic and ecologic principles.)

Mom and I spent a fair amount of time talking to Nancy Dunn, who was there minding the scapes.

Garlic scapes, she told us, are really very versatile. You can grind them up into pesto, grill them like asparagus, saute them and serve them in salads or sides, and even eat them raw. You can also blanche and freeze them. (Not to mention keep them fresh in water *and* have a pretty striking centerpiece for your dinner table.)

Hmmm. Pesto, eh? My wheels started to turn. We bagged up a half-a-pound and headed home.

Don’t miss the garlic scapes!

The Garlic Farm will be running its Garlic Scape Weekend for one last weekend, on June 20-21. If you’re in the area, definitely swing by. (For more information, visit their website or call 860-653-0291.)

Phew! That concludes today’s lesson on garlic scapes. On to the pesto!

How to make garlic scape-based pesto

This is some of the garlic-iest stuff I’ve ever had in my life. It’s packed with fresh garlic flavor that’s tempered by generous amounts of grated Parmesan and high-quality extra virgin olive oil.

A handful of pine nuts deepens the flavor and adds a little, well, nuttiness.

A little goes a long way. Toss it in pasta. Slather it on sandwiches. Use it as a dip for raw veggies. Thin it out with more olive oil and a little lemon juice for a fabulous impromptu salad dressing. In short, treat it like regular pesto. It won’t disappoint.

Garlic Scape Pesto

1/2 lb. garlic scapes (about 15 scapes)
3/4 cup grated parmesan
1/3 cup pine nuts
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
juice from half a lemon

Makes about 2 1/2 cups

Wash and chop the garlic scapes

Grab your garlic scapes. (Say that 10 times fast.)

Rinse them well under cold water and towel them dry.

Chop them up roughly, so they fit better in the bowl of your food processor.

Grind the garlic scape pesto

Put the scapes into the bowl of your food processor.

Toss in the Parmesan.

Add the pine nuts.

Cap your food processor and pulse it a handful of times.

You want the ingredients to be roughly chopped, like this:

With your food processor running on low, drizzle in the olive oil.

Process the pesto until it’s thick, creamy, and fairly smooth, like this:

Squeeze in your lemon. (Traditional pestos don’t include lemon, but I’m glad I added it. It gave the pesto a nice brightness. Add it or leave it out…totally your call.)

Your finished pesto should be able to hold its own on a fork. (If you like your pesto thinner, add more olive oil.)

Scrape the pesto out into a bowl. Garnish with pine nuts, if you like.

The pesto should keep for about a month in the fridge, well wrapped. Like all pesto, it will separate. Just give it a stir before serving.

Enjoy!

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If butter were a vegetable, it’d be an avocado. (It’s no wonder I love these little green guys so much.) This sandwich is one of my guilty pleasures. It’s a great, no-hassle lunch or dinner in a pinch. I mean, let’s face it: Sometimes, you just don’t feel like cooking.

This is hardly even a recipe. Mash up a ripe avocado with some lemon juice. Sprinkle with salt and freshly cracked black pepper. Drizzle with a little good olive oil. Kick back and enjoy with a glass or two of wine.

If you cut the bread into smaller squares and toasted them in the oven, this would make a great appetizer or tapas.

This article includes:

+A little info on avocados
+A demonstration of how to open and clean an avocado
+A step-by-step recipe with photos for making an Open-Faced Avocado Sandwich

How to tell if an avocado is ripe

Choose avocados that are soft to the touch, without feeling like they’re totally mushy under the skin. It should be firm-ish, but yield when pressed with a finger. A ripe avocado shouldn’t be hard, like a fresh apple. It should feel more like pressing on a piece of semi-firm cheese, like Fontina.

Some markets also put stickers with the word “Ripe” on them. Talk about taking the guesswork out of shopping.

If you buy your avocados on the harder side, ripen them in a paper bag on the counter until they’re ready to eat. Adding an apple or banana to the bag will help speed the process along.

Most medium-sized avocados have about 320-350 calories and 30 grams of fat. A lot of that fat is monounsaturated, which is the kind of fat that’s good for you. One avocado also has about 30% of your vitamin C for the day, as well as smaller amounts of vitamin A, calcium, and iron.

How to keep mashed avocado from discoloring

Avocados discolor rapidly when exposed to air. Adding lemon or lime juice will help keep your mashed avocado greener longer.

Open-Faced Avocado Sandwich

1 avocado
1/2 a lemon
kosher salt
freshly cracked black pepper
olive oil
1 roll or 2 pieces of bread, toasted

Serves 1 lavishly

Open-Faced Avocado Sandwich: Cut and clean your avocado

Toast your bread or roll and set aside to cool.

In case you aren’t sure, here’s an easy way to get into an avocado and get the pit out. Cut your avocado lengthwise down the center. Your knife will hit the pit.

Slide the knife around the avocado, so you’ve cut in a complete circle.

Once you’ve cut completely around the avocado, twist the top half off.

It will unscrew and pivot around the pit.

Whack the pit carefully with a sharp, heavy knife. You want the knife to stick into the pit.

Turn the knife, with the pit attached, and it will pop right out of the avocado.

If you’re a gardening type, you can try to root the avocado pit and grow an avocado tree. More on this in a future post.

Use a large soup spoon to loosen the peel like this:

Pull the peel off gently, and you should be left with the avocado meat. This a good way to do it, particularly if you want to make neat slices.

Repeat with the other half.

Open-Faced Avocado Sandwich: Mash up your avocado

Put the avocado in a medium-sized bowl.

Squeeze half a lemon over it.

With a fork, mash the avocado up. Mix the lemon juice in as you go.

Leave it in larger chunks like this:

Or mash it into more of a guacamole-like paste like this:

Open-Faced Avocado Sandwich: Make your sandwich

Grab your toasted roll or bread.

Divide the avocado between your 2 pieces of toasted bread or both halves of a roll.

Sprinkle with kosher salt.

Crack on some black pepper.

Drizzle with a little good olive oil. Serve and enjoy!

How to grow a tree from your avocado pit: Stay tuned!

Hang tight over the next week or two for detailed instructions on how to try to grow an avocado tree from your pit.

Cheers!

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