Molly Wizenberg, one of my favorite writers on food and life, writes here about her love of Mollie Katzen’s 1980s cookbook Still Life with Menu. Upon discovering this article, I promptly ordered the book on ThriftBooks and discovered a charming collection of 50 menus with original corresponding illustrations. Wizenberg recalls poring over the pages, thinking, “Would anyone but a real grown-up think of cooking a menu?” I smiled when I read that, because it’s so true; there’s something inherently adult and elegant about designing and executing a menu.
I’m obsessed with the artistry of menus, the graceful practice of assembling a cohesive blend of dishes. Some of my favorite cookbooks are those that are organized by menu, such as Sunday Suppers at Lucques by Suzanne Goin and A Platter of Figs by David Tanis. And when I’m feeling uninspired in the kitchen, I like to reference the online menus of restaurants I love, like Hart’s and King, where the menu changes daily. To me, a great menu is evocative, which does not mean fancy or showy. What it means is that when you read it, you can taste the narrative.
Today, for the fun of it, I’m playing Adult and designing an August menu. In my mind, these dishes belong together.
FYI: the recipes I share below are more ideas than recipes (i.e., not particularly specific) and require some preexisting confidence in the kitchen. With that said, I hope it’s a vivid read. I’m feeding you sweet summer tomatoes and blackberries from afar!
An August Menu
I like to start things off with a spread of snacks that go well together. Here, that would be pan con tomate, green olives, and marinated artichoke hearts.
Pan con tomate is a Spanish snack that I grew up eating at my friend Ella’s house. The way her family served it was by passing toasted baguette around the table with raw garlic cloves and halved fresh tomatoes. We’d take turns rubbing a slice of toasted baguette with garlic and tomato (cut side down), then finishing it with a sprinkle of salt and drizzle of olive oil. It was a good icebreaker and a delicious thing.
For the olives, I like green, buttery Castelvetranos, and for the artichokes, I like to buy a jar of non-marinated artichoke hearts and dress them up myself with olive oil, lemon, and herbs.
To stick with the artichoke thing, I’d make a Cynar spritz. Cynar is an Italian amaro made from a blend of artichoke leaves and herbs. It tastes bittersweet, botanical, and not much like artichokes — at least to my palate. The simplest spritz formula is as follows: 3 parts sparkling white wine (like Prosecco or Cava), 2 parts bitter liqueur (like Cynar), and 1 part club soda over ice. Measure with your heart, have a taste, and adjust as you see fit.
This is a hands-off main, which is the best kind of main for a dinner party. You can make the base ahead of time: a simple braise of onion, cherry tomatoes, chickpeas, and chorizo. 10-15 minutes before you’re ready to eat, add the cod filets, sprinkle them with salt, and bake until cooked through and easily flaked. It’s a Spanish-inspired dish, and let’s be honest, it wants to be served with aioli. If you don’t feel up to the task of making homemade aioli, I understand, but if you do: yum, and this is a helpful video by Alexis deBoschnek.
For your reference, here’s a very simple recipe for about four people that’s easily scalable:
Make the base: thinly slice half of an onion and add it to a large roasting tin or cast iron skillet with a punnet or two of cherry tomatoes, a can of drained and rinsed canned chickpeas, and however much chorizo (cut into coins or half moons) as your heart desires. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and paprika, and toss. Roast at 400 degrees F for about 15 minutes, or until the cherry tomatoes have burst (you may want to squash them a bit with the back of a wooden spoon).
Cook the fish: 10-15 minutes before you’re ready to eat, place four cod filets on top of the tomato mixture and sprinkle them each with salt. Cook at 400 for about 10 minutes, or until cooked through and easily flaked with a fork.
Serve with chopped parsley, lemon wedges, (optional) homemade aioli, and bread for sopping.
A fool is an English dessert consisting of macerated or stewed fruit folded into custard or whipped cream. I first encountered it when I worked for the chef and cookbook author Vallery Lomas, who contributed a recipe for blackberry fool to The New York Times. Hers featured macerated blackberries and sweetened whipped cream, and that’s the way I like to make it, too, with a few subtle differences. Thank you, Vallery, for the inspiration on this one.
Macerate blackberries: Sprinkle a pint of fresh blackberries with a spoonful of granulated sugar and a bit of lemon zest. Let sit for about ten minutes, then mash the berries with a fork to create a thick jam of sorts. (I like to reserve a few whole blackberries for a garnish.)
Whip cream: Whip a cup of heavy cream with a drizzle of maple syrup and pinch of salt to medium peaks.
Fold and chill: Gently fold the macerated blackberries into the whipped cream with a rubber spatula. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.
Serve: Spoon the mixture into glasses or small bowls, topping each with a whole blackberry or two. Set out a plate of shortbread biscuits, too. Oh, and I say save yourself the trouble and just buy the shortbread biscuits. I’m particularly fond of good old-fashioned Walker’s Shortbread for its buttery snap and crumble.
That was fun! Thanks for indulging me.
x Phoebe
Oh, thank you for this menu. I can't wait to try it. Every time I read your blog it lowers my blood pressure and enlightens my day. Thank You!
I am already scheming an excuse to make this entire menu. Each dish sounds delicious and elegant without being fussy, like it should be enjoyed in the garden with mismatched plates, crisp white wine and good friends.