Kale, the belle of the ball

My relationship with kale started off rocky. I first encountered this lovely leafy green at the dinner table at my parents' house in Brooklyn, circa 1993, and it wasn't exactly a love at first sight type of situation. My mom, an excellent cook far ahead of her time in her utilization of healthy ingredients, particularly whole grains, was fond of serving plain steamed vegetables with nary a shake of salt. Hint: when feeding two young children, this is not a particularly sound method (sorry, Mom!). My brother and I hated the stinky, sulfuric pile of stringy greens so much that we would actually form them into little pills in our mouths and swallow them whole with a swift chug of orange juice, our beverage of choice at that time. It wasn't pleasant for anyone involved, and if my memory serves me correctly, my parents finally relented and ceased forcing us to eat steamed kale.

It seems, though, that my mother was prescient in her kale-eating ways, too. Kale is having its fifteen minutes of fame in the food world right now: it's all over restaurant menus in New York City (even in cocktails), and recipes for kale dishes are being featured prominently on food sites like Serious Eats: here's one recipe roundup and one drinks post featuring kale juice. (I'll note, however, that I haven't seen any recipes for plain steamed kale.)

Unlike my mom, I usually like to slick my green vegetables in a bit of fat, in the form of either oil or butter. It doesn't have to be much, but a little lipid goes a long way in rounding out the sharp edges in flavor that some greens have. Usually, I go the classic Italian route and sauté some garlic and red pepper flakes together, then add the greens and maybe a bit of chicken broth to help them break down. But when I received a bag of beautiful, tender baby kale leaves from my CSA last week, I knew I couldn't do the gorgeous produce the disservice of cooking it. Luckily, at my internship at Serious Eats, I had recently edited Kenji's post on one month of veganism, and had spotted a recipe for a marinated kale salad, something I had heard of but never tried. This was the perfect opportunity.

I started by tossing my greens in a marinade of salt and oil, and let that sit at room temperature for a couple of hours. The salt and oil start to break down the leaves--the salt, by drawing out their moisture, and the oil by cutting through their natural waxy, water-resistant coating. The kale becomes more tender and easier to eat, but because there's no heat involved, they retain a bit of their texture and crunch.























When I was ready to serve the kale, I shook on some red pepper flakes and squeezed half a lemon over everything. Because I was eating with friends, and there wasn't quite enough kale to go around to call it a side dish, I decided to divide it up over little garlic toasts, adding an extra drizzle of oil at the very end. I've come a long way from steamed kale, and I don't think I'm ever going back:





















Marinated Kale on Garlic Toasts
Serves 4 - 6 as an appetizer

Ingredients:

1/4 - 1/2 lb. kale, rinsed and cut into ribbons (about 1/4 to 1/2 bunch)
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tbsp. olive oil, plus more for drizzling
Red pepper flakes
1/2 a lemon
Half a loaf of bread, cut into 8 -12 small slices
Garlic clove, peeled

Preparation:

1. At least one but preferably two hours before you want to eat, marinate the kale: toss kale with salt and 2 tbsp. olive and let sit at room temperature.

2. When ready to eat, preheat oven to 350°. Place bread on a baking sheet and drizzle with a small amount of oil. Bake until toasted and crispy, about 8 - 10 minutes. Remove from oven and rub each slice with the garlic clove.

3. Finish the kale salad: squeeze the half lemon over kale and add a shake of red pepper flakes. Stir to combine, then divide kale evenly among toasts. Drizzle with additional olive oil and serve.

David Lebovitz's wild rice salad

As a member of a winter CSA share, there are certain vegetables I've had to welcome, en masse, into my home (and refrigerator) this season: namely, potatoes (sweet and white), carrots, and beets. Though root vegetables store well, I find it's best to dispatch them quickly, if I want to have room in my tiny kitchen for anything else. So after last week's CSA pickup, when I was saddled blessed with several pounds of each, I decided to immediately peel and roast them, which would not only concentrate their flavor but also significantly reduce their bulk. But what to do with them afterwards? I've already eaten a bazillion sweet potato fries this season, already prepared roasted beets tossed with yogurt, lime and scallions, already made a huge batch of carrot soup that lingers on in my freezer. As my cubed and seasoned veggies roasted away in the oven, the debate continued: where would they end up? Luckily, divine providence stepped in when I felt compelled to read one of my favorite blogs, that of master pastry chef David Lebovitz, who usually shares sweet recipes, but occasionally throws in a savory one. Blessedly, that day was one of those days.

Early in his career, David worked in the kitchen at Chez Panisse, so he knows his way around vegetables. The recipes he shares on his site hew closely to my own cooking style: heavy on the produce and whole grains, light on the meat. So it came as no surprise when his Wild Rice Salad with Lemon-Tahini Dressing immediately appealed to me. Not only had I recently purchased a big bag of wild rice at the Co-op, but my roasted vegetables would go perfectly in the dish, plus I had just opened a jar of tahini for a hummus-making endeavor.

Actually, speaking of hummus, what attracted me most to this recipe was how it sort of riffs on that classic Middle Eastern spread. The salad's dressing is made of lemon juice, tahini, olive oil, water and raw garlic: if you were to add some chickpeas, you'd have hummus. I love cooking with raw garlic. Growing up, my dad was allergic, so we almost never utilized the stuff, save for rare occasions when my mother--the cook of the household--felt compelled to make a smaller, separate garlic-free dish for my father, and a larger, garlic-heavy one for her, my brother and me. Think about it: a world of tomato sauces, soups, stews, meatballs, all without the beneficent touch of garlic. Sad, right? These days, I think I still cook with less garlic than most people, and to add raw garlic to something feels downright illicit. So this recipe, with its whole one clove of garlic, minced, was damn near a walk on the wild side for me.

I made a few small changes to the dish, the major one being that to further embrace the hummus theme (and because I still had some left over from the Great Garbanzo Soak of 2012), I added a few handfuls of cooked chickpeas. What results is a lovely salad: the wild rice dense and chewy, the roasted vegetables sweet and earthy, with brightness from the lemon and garlic. Not a bad lunch to eat for six days in a row, as I did:
























Wild Rice and Roasted Vegetable Salad with Lemon-Tahini Dressing
Adapted from davidlebovitz.com
Serves 6 - 8 as a side dish

Ingredients:

- 1 c. wild rice, rinsed
- About 6 cups peeled and cubed root vegetables: I used a mix of sweet potatoes, beets, and carrots
- Olive oil
- Salt and pepper to taste

- About a cup cooked chickpeas
- 3 to 4 scallions (white and green parts), finely chopped
- 1/2 c. fresh parsley, chopped
- 1/4 c. tahini
- Juice of 2 lemons
- 3 tbsp. warm water
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 tsp. soy sauce
- 1/4 c. olive oil
- Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Preheat the oven to 425°. Toss the vegetables with 2 or 3 tbsp. of oil and plenty of salt and pepper. Spread on a large baking sheet (or 2) and cook until tender, about 40 minutes.
2. In the meantime, add wild rice to a medium pot and cover with lots of water. Add about a teaspoon of salt. Cover and bring to the boil then drop to a simmer and cook until rice is tender, about 40 minutes. Drain.
3. As rice and vegetables cool, make the dressing: in a medium bowl, combine the tahini, lemon juice and water, stirring briskly to smooth out the tahini. Whisk in soy sauce and olive oil, season, and taste.
4. When rice and vegetables are cool, combine in a bowl then stir in the chickpeas, scallions and parsley. Add the dressing and mix well. Note: the tahini dressing dries out in the fridge. If you're not eating all the salad at once, store salad mix and dressing in separate containers in the fridge and combine them before serving.

When life gives you...carrots?

I'm a proud member of the wonderful Crown Heights Farm Share, and I split a winter share with two friends. As such, I'm pretty well covered on root vegetables right now. Just to give you an idea of what farms produce through the cold winter months (or can store through the season), here's an example of what my friends and I received at the last pickup: 5 pounds sweet potatoes, 8 pounds Kueka Gold potatoes, 10 pounds storage carrots, 2 stalks of Brussels sprouts, 2 heads of broccoli, 1 piece of daikon radish, 1 head of Arrow cabbage, 1 bulb kohlrabi, 1 bunch of fresh field carrots, 5 pounds storage beets, 1 head of Napa cabbage, 1 bunch kale, 1 bunch green Romaine lettuce, 1 bunch red Romaine lettuce, 1 bunch green Oak lettuce, and 1 head green Boston lettuce.

As you can see, what we got was a mix of fresh produce (probably grown in a greenhouse or under plastic tarps) as well as storage produce, that's likely being kept in a cool, dark cellar. Getting a winter farm share is interesting, because it gives you some insight into what people were dealing with back in the days of eating truly locally. Although I supplement my share with imported produce like bananas and avocados, I also try to put myself in the mindset of, oh, say, a 19th century self-sufficient farmer, and try to envision what I would do to keep all those dark greens and starchy roots interesting for my family through the cold, dark months.

Altogether, my friends and I got more than ten pounds of carrots, in an array of beautiful colors. Here's my share of the loot:























Figuring out what to do with them wasn't hard. I instantly thought of soup, as most cooks do when faced with a surplus of perishable product. I knew I would cook the carrots down and purée them into something smooth and silky, but I wanted to keep the flavors zingy, as sometimes carrots (especially cooked carrots) can tend towards the blandly sweet. First, I decided that I would roast the carrots in the oven before cooking them in the broth, in order to bring out some of the complexities that high heat imparts to vegetables. Then I decided that I would throw a lot of strong, warming spices in with the usual salt and pepper on my carrots. So after a lot of peeling and chopping, I ended up with this:























That's the carrots, some oil and seasoning, plus generous amounts of whole cumin, coriander and mustard seeds. I tossed them and into the oven they went, emerging burnished and fragrant after about forty minutes. Then I sweated some onions, garlic and grated ginger in some olive oil, added the carrots and enough chicken stock to cover, and simmered for about forty minutes, until the carrots rehydrated and melded with the other flavors in the pot. Then, I busted out my handy immersion blender and puréed it all up, adding dollops of plain yogurt as I went. The end result is a surprisingly complex-tasting soup, warm and spicy from the whole seeds, but also cool and tangy from the addition of the yogurt. I actually think this would be excellent cold, but as it's (sort of) chilly outside, I've been eating it hot:























But wait, I'm not done with my carrot transformations yet! I kept the slender, fresh carrots to the side, cut them into little sticks, and pickled them in a brine made with apple cider vinegar, garlic, mustard seeds and fresh cilantro (I wanted to use dill, but I forgot to buy some). They'll be ready in ten days; I can hardly wait!































Spice-Roasted Carrot Soup with Yogurt
Serves 10 - 12

Ingredients:

3 lbs. carrots, peeled and cut into large, uniform chunks
Grapeseed, canola or other neutral oil
2 tsp. cumin seeds
2 tsp. coriander seeds
1 tbsp. mustard seeds
Salt
Pepper
2 large onions, peeled and cut into a medium dice
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 tbsp. grated ginger
About 1 quart chicken or vegetable broth
About 1 1/2 c. plain yogurt
1 lime

Preparation:

1. Preheat the oven to 425°. Toss the carrots with a small amount of oil, the cumin, coriander and mustard seeds, and a generous amount of salt and pepper. Turn out onto a sheet tray and place in the oven, stirring occasionally, for about 40 minutes, or until the carrots are nicely browned. Set aside.

2. When the carrots come out of the oven, heat about 3 tbsp. of olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed soup pot. Add the onions and stir; a minute or two later, add the garlic and ginger. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the onions sweat and break down, about ten minutes. Add the roasted carrots and enough broth to cover. Bring to a boil, then drop to a simmer and cook for about 40 minutes, until carrots plump up again.

3. Use an immersion or standard blender to blend the soup until smooth, adding more chicken stock as needed to maintain a fluid consistency. Work in the yogurt as you go. Squeeze in the juice of the lime and check for seasoning, adding more salt or pepper as needed. Serve hot or cold.


Pickled Carrots
Adapted from Epicurious.com
Makes one jar

Ingredients:

1 lb. carrots, peeled and cut into sticks
1 1/4 c. water
1 c. apple cider vinegar
1/4 c. sugar
1 1/2 tbsp. salt
1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed
1 tsp. mustard seeds
Sprig of fresh herbs, such as dill or cilantro

Preparation:

1. Fill a medium pot with water and bring to a boil. Blanch the carrots in the water for one minute, then remove with a slotted spoon and place in an ice bath, or run under cold water, to stop the cooking.

2. Choose an appropriate-sized glass jar for the carrots and place it and its lid in the boiling water. Boil for about 7 minutes to sanitize, then remove with tongs.

3. Combine the water, vinegar, sugar and salt in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Turn off heat.

4. Place carrot sticks in jar. They should fit closely together. Add mustard seeds, garlic and fresh herbs to the jar. Using a funnel, pour in the pickling liquid to top of jar, then seal tightly with the lid. The carrots should be left to pickle for about 10 days. Unopened, they will last for several months.

A starring role for a supporting cast member

Bread: it's the staff of life. Delicious and nutritious (despite what those Atkins people say), we all love it, we all crave it. But usually, we relegate it to some minor position in our meal; not even as important as a side dish, it's consumed to stave off hunger pangs at the beginning of a meal, or nibbled as a sort of afterthought alongside. It's time to bring bread into the fold, folks, and I aim to do that today by sharing two recent recipes that starred bread as the main character, or at least the equally-billed costar.

First up is a quick lunch I whipped up after returning home from my CSA pickup one week. I had gotten a bunch of beets, and wanted to figure out a way to use the greens, whose flavor I adore. I didn't have much else in the house besides a loaf of whole wheat sourdough and some eggs. So I thought to sauté up the greens and pile them on top of the toasted bread, crowning everything with a runny-yolked poached egg. Here's what it looked like:

















And yesterday evening, as I was biking home from a day of new apartment-related errands, I was struck suddenly with August Tomato Fever. It's something we all get around this time of year, I think: the unstoppable urge to eat fresh, sweet and acidic summer tomatoes, all the time, for the rest of the season and, if possible, early into the next one. I realized I hadn't had any local tomatoes yet this year, and was able to find some beautiful mini heirloom ones when I stopped into the Co-op. I didn't want to do much to them--just cut them up, maybe add some basil--and that's when it occurred to me to make a panzanella salad for dinner. One of those classic Italian dishes that comes from poverty (like the bread soup ribollita or pasta with breadcrumbs), this recipe doesn't call for much besides bread (stale, if you have it!), tomatoes, basil, olive oil and balsamic vinegar--plus, more luxuriously if you've got it, fresh mozzarella cheese. I added a little bit of red onion and lemon zest to mine, to brighten the flavors, and what I got was a big bowl of summer, bursting with the brightness of tomatoes and the richness of good olive oil--all without lighting a single burner:



















Garlic Toast with Sautéed Beet Greens and a Poached Egg
Serves 1, for lunch or a light meal

Ingredients:

- 1 small bunch of beet greens, rinsed and drained, with any large stems removed, chopped
- 1 thick slice of good bread such as sourdough or whole wheat
- 1 egg
- 1 clove garlic, peeled, plus 1 clove chopped
- Any light vinegar, such as white vinegar, white wine vinegar, or rice wine vinegar, 1/2 tsp.
- Olive oil
- Salt
- Pepper
- Red pepper flakes, optional

Preparation:

1. Prepare the beet greens: heat a small amount of olive oil in pan set over a medium flame. Add chopped garlic plus a sprinkling of red pepper flakes, if desired. After about 20 seconds, add the beet greens and cook, stirring occasionally, until greens are tender, about 6 - 8 minutes. Season greens to taste and set aside.
2. In the meantime, work on the egg and the toast. Set a small pot of water to the boil, then drop to a simmer. While waiting, toast your bread, then rub it on one side with the garlic clove.
3. When water is at a gentle simmer, add the 1/2 teaspoon of vinegar. Crack egg into a small dish and carefully lower the egg into the water. You can use a spoon to gently encourage the white of the egg to encircle the yolk. Cook at a simmer for about 2 to 3 minutes depending on how runny you like your yolk, then remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.
4. Assemble the dish: heap the beet greens on top of the garlic-rubbed side of the toast, then add the poached egg. Season egg with salt and pepper, and eat immediately.


Panzanella (Italian Bread Salad with Tomatoes and Mozzarella)
Serves 1 as a main dish, 2 as a side

Ingredients:

- 1/2 loaf of good bread, such as sourdough or Italian-style, stale is fine, cut into large cubes
- 1/2 pint of cherry or grape tomatoes, halved, or any good ripe tomatoes, cut into chunks, about 2 tomatoes
- 1/2 bunch of fresh basil, thinly sliced
- 1/4 red onion, cut into a very small dice
- Zest of half a lemon
- 1 ball of fresh mozzarella, cut into chunks the same size as the tomatoes
- Salt
- Pepper
- Olive oil
- Balsamic vinegar

1. Toast your bread: place bread on a small tray and toast in a toaster oven or the regular oven until just crisp, about 4 minutes. Set aside.
2. Toss tomatoes with a small amount of salt and pepper, and set aside for a few minutes to allow the tomatoes to "marinate" and give off some juice.
3. Combine bread, tomatoes, basil, red onion, and lemon zest in a bowl. Toss with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper to taste: you want the salad to be nice and juicy, and will probably need around 4 tablespoons olive oil and 1 tablespoon vinegar.
4. Just before serving, arrange the mozzarella over the top of the salad.

Whole grain goodness, in shades of pink

In my last post I talked about the wonderful CSA—that's the Crown Heights CSA, to be exact—that I joined at the beginning of the summer. The produce I've been picking up weekly has been unfailingly fresh, great looking and even better tasting, and this Tuesday's haul was no exception. Among other items, I received a thick, verdant bunch of scallions, a large handful of palely golden wax beans, and three fat beets—one of my favorite vegetables of all time. With temperatures holding steady in the 90s the whole week, I knew that these veggies were destined to be eaten cold. The question was how to bring them together into harmony.

I thought about the different kinds of cold salads that we eat during the summer—beets with goat cheese, a pasta salad to chuck the beans into—and immediately dismissed them as been there, done that. I wanted to try something new. That's when I remembered the cold rice salads that my mom often made when I was growing up, usually with brown rice, vegetables, toasted nuts, etc. (my mother was really ahead of the curve when it came to eating and enjoying whole grains). I decided to take a cue from her, but also to go a step further into unknown territory by using a less common grain. My first thought was spelt, but the only version the Co-op carried was imported from Italy and a small bag cost a whopping six dollars. Right nearby, though, was a bag of equal size of wheatberries, priced to move at an incredible 55 cents. That's my kind of deal, people! I grabbed it up.

At home, I simmered the wheatberries in salted water for about 40 minutes (contrary to popular belief, wheat berries do not need to be soaked before cooking) until they were tender, then drained them and allowed them to cool. In the meantime, I boiled up my beets, peeled and diced them, and cut up and blanched my wax beans. I combined everything in a big bowl, adding liberal amounts of sliced scallions and chopped parsley, as well as a lemon-olive oil dressing. And then I took a picture:























But the story didn't end there, folks: oh no, it had just begun. You see, I wanted to take the photo a) while there was still natural light; and b) before the beets totally took over and dyed everything magenta (as opposed to the early, and still quite beautiful, subtle stage of blush that you see here). But there were more things to come for this salad: right before serving it, I dotted the top with fresh Spanish goat cheese—you could also use something like feta or ricotta salata—and sprinkled on some chopped toasted walnuts. With the snap of the beans, the sweetness of the beets, the nuttiness of the wheat berries and the creaminess of the cheese, I'd say this summer salad definitely achieved the harmony—nay, the symphony—that I was looking for.


Wheatberry Salad with Beets, Wax Beans and Fresh Cheese
Serves 6 - 8 as a side dish, 4 as a main

Ingredients:
1 cup wheatberries, picked through to remove any debris or hard grains
1/2 lb. wax beans, trimmed and cut into halves or thirds depending on length (or substitute green beans)
3 large beets, trimmed and cut into quarters, but not peeled
3 scallions, white and green parts, thinly sliced
1/2 bunch parsley, finely chopped
Juice of 2 lemons
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
4 oz. fresh cheese, such as goat or sheep's milk, or use a mild feta or ricotta salata, cut into cubes or broken up into pieces
1/2 cup walnut pieces, toasted and chopped

Preparation:

1. Fill a medium pot with water and set it to boil. Add a generous amount of salt, then add the wheatberries. Drop to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 40 - 50 minutes, or until wheatberries are tender. Drain and allow to cool.

2. In the meantime, fill a second medium pot with water. Set it to boil and salt generously. Drop in the beans and cook for exactly two minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon—do not drain, you'll need the water for the beets—and immediately rinse beans with very cold water to stop the cooking process.

3. Bring the bean water back to a boil and add the beets. Cook for about 20 minutes or until the beets are tender. Drain beets, then place them in a bowl while they are still hot. Cover bowl with a large plate (or with plastic wrap) and let the beets steam up as they cool down. This will make it a cinch to peel them. When cool enough to handle, peel beets and cut them into small pieces.

4. When wheat berries, beans and beets are cooked and cooled, combine in a large bowl. Add the scallions and parsley.

5. In a small bowl, combine the lemon juice with olive oil to taste, probably about the same quantity, or slightly more, as of the lemon juice. Season generously with salt and pepper. Pour over salad, and stir to combine. Chill in fridge until ready to eat.

6. Before serving, garnish the salad with the cheese and the walnuts.

Back, with a bushel of zucchini

I've been back in the States almost two months now and this is the first free moment I've found to write on the blog. Life has been a flurry, of moving around, job hunting, catching up with friends and visiting all the New York spots that I missed while I was away. But things are finally taking on a sense of normalcy, allowing me some time to tell you about something important: summer zucchini.

When I got back from France, I did two things almost immediately: one, became a member of the Park Slope Food Co-op, that alternately venerated and misunderstood Brooklyn temple of local and organic food; and two, signed up for a CSA share of local fruit and vegetables. Having spent a long time in Europe, where, it seems to me, people are both more passionate and more discriminating than the majority of us Americans when it comes to the quality of their food, I would say that my growing interest in healthy, sustainable produce pretty much reached its peak. I didn't want to go back, upon returning home, to eating ordinary supermarket items flown in from California or Argentina or wherever. And I haven't looked back.

Anyone even marginally familiar with vegetable gardening knows about summer squash and, well, what a beast it is, basically. This vegetable (I suppose it is biologically a fruit) just erupts out of the ground come late June, fruiting and fruiting and producing tons of zucchinis. Gardeners sometimes don't know what to do with all their bounty, giving them away to neighbors, turning them into breads and cakes. There are even numerous gardeners' sayings about zucchini (here's a sample one "Zucchinis, terrific/Like bunnies, prolific!"). I've grown zucchini myself so I know this to be true, and just in case I'd forgotten, my weekly CSA share has certainly reminded me. For weeks now we've been getting bunches of small squash in all varieties: yellow and green; pattypan, crookneck, and everything in between. Fortunately for me, I love zucchini. Not so fortunately, I've been super busy at work lately, leaving little time to cook. So quite inadvertently, a small stockpile of squash began building up in my refrigerator's crisper drawer, until I finally found the time, yesterday, to deploy my arsenal.

Like any true NYC summer, this one, so far, has been humid and blazing hot. So what I wanted from my zucchini was something to cool me down. I improvised a simple chilled soup, first sautéing chopped green onions and garlic (also from my CSA) in olive oil, then adding a whole mess of chunked zucchini. I let that sweat down just a little bit, then added water almost to cover (the zucchini will let out a lot of liquid as it cooks, so you want to be careful not to add too much water). Once the squash was tender, I puréed the soup in batches in the blender, adding a couple of dollops of plain yogurt, plus a few fresh mint leaves and some additional seasoning, as I went. When everything was smooth and light green, I let the soup chill in the fridge before enjoying it with some homemade croutons. Say hello to my new favorite summer lunch:





Chilled Summer Squash Soup with Yogurt and Mint
Serves 8

Ingredients:

- 4 tbsp. olive oil
- 1 bunch scallions, trimmed of any brown or stringy parts, roughly chopped
- 3 cloves garlic, chopped
- 3 lbs. summer squash of any variety, chopped into rough pieces
- Water
- Salt
- Pepper
- About 1 cup plain yogurt
- A handful of fresh mint leaves, washed

Preparation:

1. In a large, deep, heavy-bottomed pot, heat the olive oil over a medium flame. Add the scallions and stir; add the garlic a few minutes later. Season with some salt and sauté for a few minutes, until the scallions start to break down.
2. Add the squash along with a few pinches of salt and a few grinds of pepper and stir to combine. Let the squash sweat for 4 or 5 minutes, then add just enough water to almost cover the squash, about 4 cups. Cover and bring to a boil, then drop to a steady simmer and leave partially covered.
3. Cook soup until squash is just tender, about 15 minutes. Turn off the heat and, working in batches, ladle the soup into a blender (you can also leave the soup in the pot and use an immersion blender). Purée, adding a dollop of yogurt, plus a few mint leaves and additional seasoning, with each batch. If the soup is looking too thin, try to leave behind some of your cooking liquid, and if too thick, add more.
4. Check soup for seasoning and allow to chill in the fridge for several hours. Serve, garnishing with additional chopped mint and, preferably, some homemade croutons (see recipe below).


Homemade Croutons
Makes two cups

Ingredients:

- Day-old bread, preferably crusty (ie, a baguette), cut into small cubes and yielding 2 cups
- 3 tbsp. olive oil
- Salt
- Pepper
- Dried herbs, such as thyme, oregano, sage, etc.

Preparation:

1. In a bowl, toss the bread cubes with the olive oil, a generous amount of salt and pepper, and a sprinkling of the herbs. Make sure each cube is coated in oil.
2. Place bread cubes in a large wide skillet set over medium-low heat and cook, tossing occasionally, for about 6 - 10 minutes, or until bread is fragrant, golden, and crunchy. Let cool completely before serving.
3. Alternatively, you can bake the croutons in a 325° oven. Set bread cubes on a sheet tray and bake, stirring occasionally, for about 6 - 10 minutes, or until bread is fragrant, golden, and crunchy. Let cool completely before serving.