"Thank You, Summer" Ratatouille + 36 Hours in Midcoast Maine.

good times, (metaphorical) noodle salad.

"Thank You, Summer" Ratatouille

+

36 Hours in Midcoast Maine.

summer kicks ass.

When I originally posted this recipe just about a year ago my folks were packing up the last of their boxes and getting ready to make the permanent move from Virginia to Maine and I wasn't handling it particularly well. It's hard to let go of a place where so many of your firsts happened. First steps, first words, first kiss, first love, first heartbreak...you know the drill. At the time it felt like the end of an unbearably large number of things; I pulled out of the driveway for the last time
and cried all the way across the blue ridge mountains. 

Melodramatic, I know, but that's how it went down. 

And that's probably why I gave this recipe such a depressing name the first time around. Summer's End Ratatouille?? Sheesh. Shoulda just called it "we all die" vegetable medley... Over the past year I've come to realize that home is where your people are, that past is past, present is present, and memories are yours regardless of where your parents live. I've also come to realize that (as a tidy little bonus) coastal Maine is a pretty kick-ass place for said people to be, especially in the summertime. 

So, in the spirit of newfound emotional maturity,
I'm re-branding this recipe "thank you, summer" ratatouille. 

No melodrama, no sad-sackery. 

Just an unabashed appreciation of the season, while it lasts. 

Knowing full well it'll be back around again soon enough.
Nothing but good times and noodle salad (bonus points if you get that reference).

every little bit of it.

"Thank You, Summer" Ratatouille
now with even less melodrama

(serves 4-6) 

3Tbsp olive oil

2-3Tbsp red wine 

1 large onion (yellow or red), thinly sliced

1 full head of garlic, cloves finely minced

two bell peppers, green red or yellow, sliced thin

Diced eggplant (any variety), about 3-4 cups

1-2 large zucchini, halved lengthwise and cut into thin slices

3-4 medium-sized tomatoes, diced (about 2c)

salt and black pepper to taste

1/2c shredded fresh basil leaves

full recipe here.

And now a few of my favorite Maine-based things:

Pan-Fried Stuffed Squash Blossoms with Lemony Walnut Ricotta

ooh...shiny.
Pan-Fried Stuffed Squash Blossoms with 

Lemony Walnut Ricotta.

stop showing off, summer.

I've never really been one to succumb to impulse purchases while grocery shopping. I try to approach the wall of delicious chocolatey/ crunchy things one must pass through before getting to the cashier with a "don't tell me what to do" kind of 'tude. I am cheap and I can make most of this stuff my damn self. I don't need to spend a dollar on your impossibly tiny square of dark chocolate, Co-Op. So there.

And those $7 bags of raw kale chips? Don't even get me started. 

But the farmers' market is a whole 'nother story. I never fail to get distracted by shiny, new, delicious things and if those things are affordable, all the better. When these ridiculously photogenic squash blossoms caught my eye on the way out of the farmers' market yesterday I HAD to have them.
And only three dollars for 12 of the most gorgeous flowers you ever did see?
No self respecting, produce loving cheapskate could pass that up.
I plunked down some cash and made them mine.

piping walnut ricotta into blossoms.

filled.

Pan Fried Squash Blossoms with
Lemony Walnut Ricotta
(makes 12 stuffed blossoms)

1 bunch squash blossoms, about 12, 

preferably with stems attached

3/4c raw walnut pieces

1 clove garlic

2Tbsp nutritional yeast

1Tbsp fresh lemon juice

1/2tsp mellow white miso

1/2tsp ground sea salt

1/4tsp cracked black pepper

1-2Tbsp water

2-3Tbsp olive oil, for frying
extra lemon juice and black pepper for garnish.