"Home Cooking" news and stories

Each Thursday, we round up a selection of scrumptious links from our friends over at YumSugar. Here's what they've got cooking this week:

• From hops to tap: catch a glimpse of how one brewery brings out the beer.
• Is your scotch schooling up to snuff?
• Baby back ribs heart blueberries.
• You could use flour tortillas, but then this flank steak might go all viva la revolución on you.
• San Francisco declared war over pie.
• Cat Cora can make you a better home cook in eight easy steps.

Corn relish. Photo: bookgrl/ Flickr.

As summer kicks into high gear, roadside stands and greenmarkets are bustling with fresh produce.

Fresh herbs, cut just that morning, perfume the air: sultry thyme, sprightly parsley and rosemary for remembrance. Sweet onions tumble out of bushel baskets and into burlap bags. Piles of peppers fight for your attention in red, green, orange, yellow and even black. And who can resist fresh ears of satiny corn?

As you lug all of your fresh produce home, don't worry -- as always, we've got your back. Beyond the jump is an original recipe to use that corn, those peppers and those onions to make a quick, fresh corn relish.

This relish has a Southwestern twang, but it can accompany virtually anything coming off of your grill for Fourth of July barbecues, from juicy burgers and seared steaks to perfectly smoked chicken. And if the summer corn is too irresistible to resist buying a bushel, you can double the recipe and send some home with your guests.

Bluefish with Fava Beans, Corn, Tomatoes and Fresh Herbs. Photo: Rebecca Flint Marx

Let's face it: ever since Hannibal Lecter sung their praises in "The Silence of the Lambs," fava beans haven't enjoyed the greatest associations -- particularly where Chianti and liver are involved.

And that's a shame, because they're some of the most flavorful and versatile treats that summer has to offer. In season for a few precious weeks, favas -- which have been enjoyed throughout the world for about 5,000 years and are packed with so much protein they've been called "the meat of the poor" -- can be used in everything from salads and purées to soups and pasta dishes.

When the flat, wide beans are shelled and blanched, they adopt a vibrant grassy hue and buttery texture that enriches any meal, and their rapid cooking time makes it easy to incorporate them into a quick weeknight dinner -- or into lunch the following day. While stringing and shucking the beans (which, unshelled, are about five inches long) is a bit labor-intensive, it's one of those activities that's all but made for summer, particularly if you have a porch, some time on your hands and a glass of something cold by your side.

Shun's santoku knife on caramelized onion tart. Photo: Alex Van Buren

Knives. Outside of the full-time food dork world, people -- even foodies -- don't tend to talk about them much.

They have a bad association as, um, dull conversational topics: There's the unwelcome knife salesman banging on the door, or that eternal infomercial ("Only $39.95 in three easy installments!"). I owned a sub-par knife for years, until a friend trained at a local culinary institute basically took it away from me.

I've been shopping ever since with an eagle eye for sales. The santoku style caught my attention for its multiuse blade (note the indentations, which purportedly help keep food from sticking) and stylish look. And when I grabbed a Shun in hand at a local shop -- its base has a slight teardrop shape, perfectly suited to that soft nub between thumb and index finger -- I fell in love.

After a day of travel, Scott and I got home to our apartment last night just before 1 am. The changing time zones and the hours spent locked in a fast-moving metal tube had us totally thrown off and we were both ravenous when we walked in the door. Getting to bed was high on my mind, but I knew that we both needed to eat something or sleep would be impossible.

Opening the fridge, I saw that I had done a good job of emptying it out prior to the trip. Thankfully though, I had had the good sense to leave behind half a done eggs and the tail end of a loaf of bread. Pulling out a cereal bowl and a small frying pan, I quickly beat the eggs and poured them out into the pan. I shoved the bread bag in Scott's direction and said, "Toast, please." I stood at the stove, barely conscious, stirring the eggs with a silicone spatula. As I moved the eggs around the pan, I realized that it had been a week since I cooked a thing, a rare occasion in my life.

Soon enough, the toast popped and the eggs were done. We sat at the table for a few moments, eating eggs in companionable silence. It was a meal that took no more than 15 minutes from conception to completion and yet it was still warm, filling and lovely welcome home.