Hiding out from the heat wave in an air-conditioned apartment for much of the past weeks has given me lots of time to browse my older cookbooks for not-too-demanding hot-weather recipes that I hadn’t tried before. First result: two vegetable salad dishes I’ve made from Mireille Johnston’s aptly named The Cuisine of the Sun. What could be more appropriate for New York City in August?!
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Cold Corn Salad, Simmered in White Wine
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While the French have long considered corn only as animal fodder, Johnston says that in Nice it’s “prepared in many exciting ways for human enjoyment.” That sounded good. I was a bit shocked to see her calling for canned corn. No way in a New York summer! When I cook corn on the cob (four minutes in boiling water) I always toss a few extra ears in the pot, then cut off their kernels and package them in plastic bags for the freezer, to use in the dark days of winter. I pulled out one of this year’s first bags for this recipe.
The vegetable condiments for a salad to serve two were easy to prepare: two minced scallions, half a garlic clove, a piece of bay leaf, a teaspoonful of whole peppercorns, and a small sprig of marjoram (the last, my substitution for the recipe’s dried thyme).
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I heated olive oil in a pan, tossed in all those ingredients, and sauteed them for five minutes. The recipe said to use a high flame but I couldn’t – the scallions would have burned. I don’t know how Johnston would have managed that. On my stove, three minutes at medium heat were more than enough.
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Turning the heat to low, I stirred in the corn, a good sprinkling of salt, and a scant four tablespoons of white wine.
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Five minutes of gentle simmering, and the dish was done. The last instruction was to chill the salad for at least three hours. I couldn’t see why it needed that long, but I dutifully did. The peppercorns stayed right in the mixture.
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Warm Bean Salad in a Spicy Vinaigrette
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This is one of a trio of “white salad” recipes in the book – i.e., for potatoes, cauliflower, and white beans – tossed with the same dressing. In my pantry there was just the right amount left of a bag of good Rancho Gordo cranberry beans for two portions, so I used them instead.
Having given the beans an overnight soak, I put them in a pot of water with a few chunks of carrot, part of a red onion, a clove, and an “unbundled” bouquet garni (sprigs of parsley, marjoram, and bay leaf).
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Covered, brought to a boil and reduced to a simmer, the pot of beans cooked along gently while I turned to the dressing. This was the most elaborate “vinaigrette” I’d ever concocted. I use quotes here because vinegar and oil were the least part of the dressing. The bulk of it was parsley, and there was also scallion, garlic, tarragon, anchovies, nutmeg, salt, black pepper, and Tabasco, along with the modicum of olive oil and red wine vinegar.
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I’d made sure to finish the cooking of the beans shortly before dinner time, so they could be drained, tossed gently with the dressing, and served while still warm.
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So, for dinner . . .
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. . . we had both salads alongside slices of a broiled, rare flank steak. Delicious!
The beans had happily sucked in the pungent dressing and made its garlicky fragrance their own. We couldn’t discern the tarragon or nutmeg, but perhaps they would have made more of a contribution to white beans. Cranberry beans have stronger flavors of their own.
The corn salad made a good, mild contrast, except for the tiny sharp bursts when you bit into a peppercorn. Otherwise, the dish tasted mostly of sweet corn. That wasn’t bad, but if I make the recipe again, I’ll add more of the other vegetable ingredients. And probably crack the peppercorns, so their flavor spreads more.