Cucumber Salad with Almonds and Shiso

I made this salad out of what my grandmother would call "sheer cussedness". It wasn't necessary, it wasn't even wanted, and yet I made it. I made it during a week that was a blur of trips to Paris, miles walked, sights seen, crêpes eaten, family events caught up on. We cooked some fantastic and simple meals together, but this salad didn't really fit in to any of them. Still, I was not about to let the cucumber I had stubbornly bought go to waste. So one evening when the others were taking a bike trip around Paris, Claire and I stayed home and ate frittata (to use up leftovers) and cucumber salad. Now that's sheer cussedness (with some laziness thrown in for good measure...)

The salad is pretty simple; even so, I made a few adjustments. I didn't have any slivered almonds, so I sliced some of the roasted unsalted almonds in my freezer. I also wasn't willing to cross town to buy enough shiso to make one tablespoon, so I chopped up some arugula and also added a bit of cilantro and mint.

And the final salad? It's certainly not terrible: I ate a large helping that night and another one today at lunch (and once Julia discovered the rest, she powered through the lot). I like the almonds in it, and it has an interesting Asian flair. But I wouldn't make it again because 1) cucumbers aren't my favorite vegetable and 2) the rest of the family doesn't really go for sesame oil. But if you like those two ingredients, I would try this, maybe with a bit of chili paste or red pepper flakes to add even more interest. But don't force yourself: as my friend pointed out to me when I suggested making this to go with dinner, there are plenty of other good cucumber recipes out there.

Corn Salad with Avocados and Lime

When I first offered corn on the cob to my Franco-German husband Sami, he looked somewhat horrified. "What's this? We give this to pigs in Europe!" Sure, he was used to canned corn in everything from salad to pizza, but on the cob? Not so much. Now he'll eat good sweet corn, but he doesn't search it out.
All this to say that corn on the cob, and especially good corn, is not the easiest thing to find here in France. Fortunately, I live in a town with a lot of foreigners, and there are vendors at the market who cater to our strange tastes. Thus I was able to buy (kind of mediocre) corn at the "special price" of three for 3 Euros!

But that was the most difficult part about making this delicious salad. I began by marinating a couple of scallions and a clove of chopped garlic in the juice of two limes and some salt for about half an hour (while I briefly cooked the corn and fixed the main course: macaroni and cheese). This toned down the raw onion/garlic bite quite a bit.
I then chopped up a large handful of cherry tomatoes and cut the corn off the cob. Those went into the salad bowl to wait until dinner was almost ready.

  I then went to cut up what turned out to be the Avocados of My Discontent. It's a shame that avocados, as expensive as they are, can be such a crapshoot.

But I salvaged quite a bit from them, and added them to the salad along with a bit of olive oil and some chopped (frozen) cilantro. And there I had a delicious salad with sweetness and crunch along with the tart bite of lime offset by the creamy avocados. I think that if I made this again, I might add a good pinch of red pepper flakes or even chopped chipotle peppers. It's a great salad but might also make a great quesadilla topper or taco filling. If I had regular access to great (and affordable) corn, this salad would definitely become part of my regular lineup.

Lamb Merguez Burgers

I grew up eating lamb on the 4th of July: my grandmother and grandfather would serve grilled shish kebab at the party they always hosted on that day, also their wedding anniversary. This was invariably accompanied by my aunt's fabulous potato salad and my mother's surprisingly delicious green Jell-o salad, the only one I'll eat. The evening would finish with homemade red-white-and-blueberry ice cream and the setting off of fireworks.

But now I'm celebrating the Fourth of July in France, where it's just another day. Still, it's nice to celebrate our American-ness just a bit. So our meal was a good compromise. Claire made this cake and we watched the Tour de France, and then I made this lamb merguez "burgers" and we watched women's soccer. All-American, and yet not really. In fact, merguez is to France what pizza is to the United States: an immigrant food that has been embraced by the broader culture.

Most of the work of these burgers involves grinding: first spices (fennel and coriander), and then (at least for me) the meat. First the spices get toasted.

Then, after cooling down a bit, they go in the spice grinder. I used to think that toasting/grinding spices was a waste of time until I actually tried it. Now I'm hooked: the spices smell so great and taste really fresh and strong. I highly recommend picking up an extra coffee grinder at a garage sale and using it for spices.

 I had ground up my semi-frozen lamb with a small onion and some garlic. I then added the merguez-y stuff: the toasted/ground spices, some piment d'esplette (a paprika-like spice from the Basque country--it's a bit spicier than paprika, but it was fresh and my regular paprika was looking sad), salt, and--yes--butter. In Melissa's defense, the lamb I used (cut from the leg) was pretty lean, and merguez, which is the go-to sausage on the French grill, tends to be very fatty. And the meatballs I made turned out to be quite juicy and less gamy than some ground lamb dishes can be.

Why meatballs? Well, I knew I couldn't grill these and that my choices were the stovetop grill (I still haven't mastered that) or the oven (I had this article in mind). But then after a recent falafel experience, I decided that meatballs would be much more manageable in a pita than a large burger.

While the meatballs roasted (15 minutes in a 425 oven), I made my harissa mayonnaise (also a very French thing--it's awesome with fries!), grated some carrots, and sliced some cucumbers. I squeezed some lime over both and tossed them with a bit of salt. I thought these would make a good crunchy counterpart to the rich and spicy meatballs.

And voilà, my Franco-American 4th of July dinner. These vanished in no time flat. They were spicy, but just on this side of too spicy, with a great balance of flavors and textures. Claire, who generally dislikes lamb, devoured about 5 meatballs in her sandwich. So even though I had to wait an extra day for the traditional reading of the Declaration and the fireworks will come 10 days later, it was a good meal for a special day.