Bruschetta for Dinner

Who said dinner couldn’t be fun?!

Bruschetta (broo-SKET-ta), the incomparably attractive Italian appetizer, is simply too big of a starter come the dog days of summer. I mean, it’s like eating pizza for hors d’oeuvres before Thanksgiving dinner when the temps are 95 F in the shade–like today. Typically grilled bread rubbed with garlic and topped with chopped silky ruby-ripe tomatoes and a scatter of fresh basil slivers, I like to instead offer it up with a variety of toppings for an al fresco dinner and let everyone make themselves happy. And while I thought I was being somewhat imaginative this July, when I dug out some of my Italian cookbooks to get a little background, I of course discovered that while not everyone, certainly certain someones have been there before me. (Curses, foiled again.) Folks like one of my favorite food writers, Lynne Rosetto Kasper.

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Salmon on Ratatouille

Ah, summer.  Oh, oh:  ratatouille!

 ra· ta· touille
[rat-uhtoo-ee, twee; Fr.ra-tatoo-yuh]


a vegetable stew of Provence, typically consisting of eggplant, zucchini,onions, green peppers, tomatoes, and garlic, served hot or cold.


I loved the movie (Ratatouille).
Also “The Big Night”
And “Babette’s Feast”
Try them.   Food movies. Sigh.

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Grilled Eggplant-Potato Salad with Homemade Spicy Basil Mayonnaise a la Daniel Boulud


If it’s past our anniversary, which for 40 years has appeared each Bastille Day, it’s past the middle of July. That’s pretty late in the season to have not yet had one bite of potato salad.  Late yesterday afternoon, opening and closing the fridge door like a teenager hoping to find something new since the last time I looked, I couldn’t think of something to have with leftover burgers.  (I like leftover burgers nearly better than fresh.) The weather was not helpful:  60 degrees and 60 mph winds with hard rain and hail did away with idea of grilling anything.  I knew I needed to use a quickly aging eggplant and of course there were eggs.  In the vegetable basket were onions and naturally potatoes.  A big bunch of basil drooped unhappily on the counter.  I drooped, too.  Our youngest had been home for a few days for a family wedding and for our anniversary.  She had left that morning.


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