Issue #61: Savory Fruit Salad Season
Fruit Takes Center Stage—Watermelon, Cherries, and Peaches Show Their Sultry Side
Faced with record-breaking heat waves across the country and around the world our government’s climate change response is paralyzed by misinformation and lobbying. This isn’t new but it is increasingly disheartening given all the rest of the upsetting nonsense coming out of Washington these days. In this case, the planet is literally on fire and it’s hard to imagine what could make the need for action seem more urgent than burning buildings and buckling runways. I find solace in the market and in the kitchen, where, if I remain present and focused, cooking provides for me a kind of transcendant sweetness and joy that nourishes my body and soul. Cook more, it’s good for you and the planet. Thank you, as ever, for subscribing.
—Mitchell
As I noted in Issue #59, in the build up to my southeast Asian grilled-meat salad, what constitutes a salad changes pretty drastically from place to place. I find it difficult to see what a mayonnaise-drenched salade russe has in common with a zesty, meaty larb, but into the same category in our culinary taxonomy they go. Save your questions for Emily Nunn, salad CEO over at the Department of Salad.
With the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’m here to declare salad season not just open, but taking off. We’re in that time of year when local markets are full of all sorts of things you want to toss together in a bowl, which is coincident with the time of year when you don’t want to turn on any appliances that throws off heat, and you don’t want to eat any food that makes you feel heavy or warm. Salad to the rescue.
But this issue is not about just any kind of salad. No. This issue is about fruit salads. Not the sort of fruit salads that might be called macedoines des fruits and that are served in coupes at brunch or dessert. No, I want you to think of savory salads, perhaps with vegetables, herbs, cheeses, maybe nuts, in which fruit is a principal ingredient. These salads can be part of a bigger meal, but in summer, for us, they are often the main event.
If there’s an ur-salad of the genre, it might be watermelon, tomato, and feta, a combination whose ubiquity doesn’t detract from its appeal. With fresh basil, mint, thinly sliced red onion, olive oil, salt and pepper, this salad is always in our summer rotation.
So is the Israeli icon created by Hila Alpert for the menu at HaBasta in Tel Aviv, a cherry salad with cilantro, jalapeño, and olive oil. I was first served this salad at a dinner at my friend Naama’s home and it’s been stuck in my brain ever since. Synergy is the only way to explain how these few simple ingredients produce such a powerfully delicious salad. When CEO Nunn interviewed me for the Official Bulletin of the Department of Salad last year, this was the recipe I offered. I understand it was one of her most popular.
This weekend Nate and I went peach picking with my cousin Victoria at the charming u-pick Indian Creek Farm around the corner from the lakehouse we are renting outside Ithaca, New York. In less than 20 minutes we had some 16 quarts of perfectly tree-ripe fruit, which doesn’t seem like as much as it is until you get home. I’ve been processing these peaches into jams, infusing them in vinegar to make shrubs, coating them in caramel to top pancakes. And still we’ve hardly made a dent.
So, now I’m making peach salads. Yesterday for lunch, a Middle Eastern inspired concoction with sliced fresh peaches, feta, toasted pistachios, spring onions, sumac, fresh mint, olive oil, and lime juice. Hard to disagree with that. Then for dinner, a peach caprese, with ripe tomato, mozzarella di bufala, fresh basil, and olive oil. Trust me, it’s just peachy. (The flavors of peach and basil are surprisingly complimentary.)
I’m not going to give you detailed recipes for these salads, because I think the breezy, carefree, summery nature of them requires a similar attitude in the kitchen. Pick a beautiful serving plate or wide bowl appropriately sized for your guests and fill it in an artful way. What is important is which flavors you combine. Because most good fruit is both sweet and a little tart, you need to balance it with something salty, something spicy, something rich. I like crunchy and herbaceous, too. Use your imagination and heed Coco Chanel’s advice about taking off at least one thing before you leave the house. For variety, you can grill your fruit—yes, watermelon, peaches, and the like. But then you are heating things up, and although I love the taste of a little char, I find grilling an unnecessary hassle for such simple fare. But who am I to stop you? Grill your onions, too, while you are at it.
As for dressing, here, too, I’m a less-is-more proponent. Fine olive oil, good salt, maybe a drizzle of a full-bodied vinegar. You don’t need much, especially when the fruit is at its peak and its sweet-tart juices run into the olive oil and other flavors. Well, the more that you need is bread to soak up everything that pools on the plate.
RECIPE: Watermelon, Tomato, and Feta Salad
For this salad I like to cut the ripe watermelon and tomato into angular, misshapen, but evenly sized chunks. I break a big brick of Bulgarian sheep’s milk feta into large pieces and arrange it on the plate with the watermelon and tomato. Tear fresh basil leaves and scatter them around. I think some finely sliced red onion enhances the dish, but leave it out if you are not a fan. Then a sprinkle of flaked salt, a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil, a grind or two of black pepper, and drizzles of a sweet sherry or balsamic vinegar and you are good to go.
RECIPE: Cherry Salad with Jalapéno and Cilantro
Halve and pit a decent amount of sweet black or white cherries. It takes more cherries than you think because everyone will want more of this salad. Aim for a quart. Seed a jalapeño, finely mince it and add it to the cherries along with a half a small bunch of cilantro leaves, pick through and left whole. Drizzle with extra-virgin olive oil and season with a pinch of salt. If you want exact measurements, see here.
RECIPE: Peach and Pistachio Salad
Slice and arrange 3 or 4 ripe peaches on a serving platter. In a small bowl, combine a chunk of Bulgarian sheep’s milk feta broken into crumbles, along with a handful of toasted and chopped pistachios, a pinch of sumac, 10 or so mint leaves, shredded, and a grind of black pepper. (You shouldn’t need salt because the feta is quite salty.) Drizzle in a decent amount of extra-virgin olive oil and the juice of half a lime. Mix well. Spoon this mixture over the peaches and serve.
RECIPE: Peach Caprese
Arrange slices of fresh peach, ripe tomato, and room temperature mozzarella di buffalo on a serving plate. Garnish with whole leaves of basil, as shown. Sprinkle with flaked salt and drizzle with extra-virgin olive oil.
Words to the Wise
Whichever fruit salad you make, don’t forget bread to mop up all the juices that pool on the plate afterwards.
And For Your Listening Pleasure
My What’s Burning podcast with eminent nutritionist, food policy commentator, and change agent Marion Nestle is now available here and everywhere you get your podcasts. Have a listen.
“The basic problem with nutrition research hasn’t changed, which is that people eat really complicated diets, that vary enormously from day to day and person to person. And for me, always the main intellectual question involved with nutrition is how do you tell what people eat. And if you can’t tell what people eat, how do you conduct studies about it that are meaningful and will hold up. And so, over the years, hundreds and hundreds and thousands of studies have been done, most of them dealing with single nutrients or single foods because it’s easier to do that kind of work. And they all show the same thing, that one food and one nutrient don’t make that much difference unless your diet is really weird. I mean for Americans, the problem is not nutrients. The problem is eating too much.”
Lovely prose, per usual. BUT you distress me with bowl of peaches apparently prepped by your volunteer sous chef. Evidence = someone peeled the peaches. Ugh. Maybe used a knife? And not a particularly sharp one? No. No....
I can't help (or explain) right now, as I need to leave asap to head to up to my fav Lake Ontario peach orchard.
Muttering curmudgeonly, "slip the skins..." Marcie
P.S. Do you want my mother's recipe for Pickled Peaches? Or Edna's (Lewis) for Brandied Peaches?