The Greenest Goddess Dressing

green goddess dressing

It's spring. Things are greening, finally. Greens galore are here at farmers' markets in Pennsylvania. We'll have to wait for the rest (radishes, herbs, beets, carrots and potatoes, etc.) until it warms up a bit. But for now, we have our pick of greens. A couple of weeks ago, tired of the usual variations on oil and vinegar, I hacked a green goddess dressing. I received some "recipe please!!" comments after posting a pic on Instagram where it was adorning some quasi-grilled romaine (another story altogether; the gas ran out mid-char). I figured I'd return to this project.

Green goddess goes all the way back to the 1920s and had a good run in the 1970s-80s, but is experiencing something of a resurgence right now—with some twists, of course. You typically see it with cobb salads and others with sturdy greens that can withstand a substantive dressing and whose leaves provide all sorts of crevices and crannies for the dressing to get lost in. It would also work well as a veggie or pita chip dip, or as the binding agent for some manner of tuna or chicken salad, should you wanna roll that way, too.

The modern versions, like this one, often include heart-healthy avocado; classic elements typically feature anchovies, fresh spring herbs, mayo, sour cream, and lemon juice. (I think I even recently saw a twist on this with pureed green peas.) They don't typically include water or olive oil, but I found I needed both. By design, this recipe includes the minimum amount of mayo required before it got too gloppy and mayo-ey (plus olive oil lends some fresh zip and helps with emulsifying). And I had an avocado just this side of perfectly ripe and smushy, so the little bit of water helped break things down. As you can see, I didn't make it completely smooth, mostly because I was scrambling to get dinner on the table to several hungry and really tired campers. Sometimes aesthetics go out the window. If I had had more time, I would have snipped off some chives from the yard or the tops of green onions for a little more bite. In fact, why don't you go do that and please, let me know what you think?

Ingredients

• 1/2 of an avocado
• Zest and juice of one lemon
• 1-2 garlic cloves
• 1/3 cup plain Greek yogurt (or sour cream)
• 1/4 cup organic mayo (homemade or otherwise)
• 1/4 cup water
• 1 large handful parsley (about a 1 cup, stems included)
• Several pinches of kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Directions:

1. Put all ingredients into a food processor or blender, and let 'er rip. You should get about 3/4 cup of dressing, which you can keep stored in the fridge in a sealed container and it should be good for about a week.

Sunday involved yoga, a great big brunch at a friend's house with park time, and an afternoon surprise event involving a swarm of bees in the yard that required emergency rescue and relocation. All of a sudden, it was 6 o'clock and there was no acceptable dinner plan. So, last night's dinner wound up being two take-out pizzas from Sette Luna with a salad I threw together of fresh local spinach from Jett's Produce and not quite baby lacinato kale. The farmer I bought it from, Tom Murtha of Blooming Glen, called it "teenager kale" because it was not the full, frondy lacinato kale we know, nor was it baby kale, whose smaller leaves are sweet and typically tricky to find. They both served as willing recipients of the 2-3 tablespoons of dressing I used here.

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Presto! It's Pesto!

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I know I'm a bit premature with my proclamation that we're getting close to pesto season, but we'll be greeted by market fresh herbs and greens such as ramps, sorrel and garlic scapes before you know it. Pesto, once you've got the hang of it, is endlessly adaptable: It's just waiting to be tossed with some pasta water with the shape of your choice, spread on a sandwich or around the base of a pizza, or used as a rustic crudite dip. (Ian, this one's for you—it's easily veganized, and I know you have a food processor.)

First things first: Pesto means sauce. It does not always necessarily by definition mean you have to use basil. Okay? Ok. You can even make pesto out of broccoli stalks (what my sister and I used to call tree trunks) and kale ribs (just steam 'em a bit first).

Secondly, I'm putting this forward as something of a loose template, with some caveats. Obviously, if you are on a budget you will look at the price of pine nuts and shudder. If you are following a vegan diet, you'll want to sub some nutritional yeast for the cheese factor; just dial it back a bit in terms of the amount. And if you are allergic to nuts and following a vegan diet? You'll want to use nutritional yeast and sunflower seeds; the latter tend to get nutty when you grind them. Celiac or gluten sensitive? Stay the hell away from nutritional yeast, but you probably already knew that.

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Here's a combo I happen to like: parsley-walnut pesto. I think of it as an all-year round pesto, simply because I can obtain organic parsley easily and it's one of those herbs I buy regularly without fail and all year round, along with cilantro, thyme and rosemary. (I don't buy basil in the winter because then tomatoes and mozzarella should hang out there, too, and I can't eat a Caprese salad in January. I. just. can't.) This couldn't be simpler. If you're making this for dinner or another meal, you can complete these steps while the pasta boils.

Parsley-Walnut Pesto

Ingredients

• 2 cups fresh parsley, stems included, loosely packed
• 1-2 cloves garlic
• 1/4 cup walnuts (you can toast in a dry pan over medium heat till they're fragrant first if you like)
• 1/4 cup Locatelli Romano cheese
• Zest and juice of one whole organic lemon
• 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
• Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Directions

1. Place the parsley through lemon zest and juice into the bowl of a food processor, and pulse a few times to combine. Stop the machine, taste the mixture, and add a couple of good pinches of salt and several grinds of black pepper. Switch it back on and, using the funnel, pour the olive oil into the food processor and let it go for about 15-20 seconds. It won't take long to come together.

2. Remove the lid and taste the pesto, adjusting seasonings to ensure a fresh, bright and fairly smooth taste. Yield: About 6 ounces or about 2/3 cup.

3. Let's assume your pasta is ready. Remove it from the boiling water with a spider strainer into a large serving bowl. Scoop your 1-cup glass measuring cup into the pot to get about 1/2 cup of hot pasta water. Dump the remaining water out into the sink, return the pasta to the hot pot, add as much pesto as you like (I used about 3 ounces of pesto for 8 ounces of uncooked pasta), and stir to combine. Slowly add the reserved hot pasta water, and stir it all together fairly vigorously. Transfer to your serving bowl and hit it with some grated cheese (please, not the kind in the green can.)

A few words about the pasta. For pesto, I like to use a shape with lots of nooks and crannies, like the gluten-free "garden pagoda" veggie pasta you see here, but anything will work, really. In the last 2 minutes of cooking I added 1/2 cup frozen peas to the pasta water, and then once everything was in the hot pan with the pesto, I added about 8 ounces of thinly sliced organic chicken breast I'd cooked a day or so before.

A few words about pesto. Sometimes I see recipes that include some part water (in place of the full amount of olive oil), with the aim of calorie reduction. If you have to do this, please be prepared for a flat experience and a watery pesto; the extra virgin olive oil makes all the difference and lends a fruity, herbal taste (depending somewhat of course on the oil you use.) You can certainly add more olive oil if you like—it's your call. And parents, if you're reading, pesto-based dishes are a really sneaky way to get vitamins, minerals and healthy fats into your children's diet and will typically contain far less sodium than jarred, store-bought tomato sauce. If you've made baby food before, you know that pureed veggies and herbs, if prepared well, typically go down easily with kids.

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Chef Jason Hook's H2O Kitchen is Back in the Valley

I apologize for the late notice, dear readers, but you must know about this. Jason Hook of H2O Kitchen has partnered with Artisan Wine and Cheese Cellars in Bethlehem for monthly multi-course tasting dinners paired with West Coast wines that will invariably blow your mind. Trust me. The first time I tasted his food, my palate was not the same for days. He is a whiz in the kitchen, transforming it into a laboratory of delicious experimentation where he concocts truly inspired flavor combinations unlike any others you may have experienced. Trust me on this. It's $75 well spent, and if I know Chef Hook, there will probably be more than the number of advertised courses here. He lets himself get carried away, galvanized by late-in-the-game whims, and then follows them. The result is always a surprise. If you want to go, seating is limited and reservations must be made through Artisan.

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Corked Wine Bar & Steakhouse

Have you been to Corked in Bethlehem? It is the topic of my Inside Dish column for the April issue of Lehigh Valley Style. I found its chef-owner, Joe Grisafi, to be surprisingly candid about the process of opening a new restaurant, especially one that's as ambitious as Corked and a definite switch from the previous family restaurants he's worked in and, in the case of Roma, started. If you've been there, I'd love to hear your feedback about the experience. Restaurants are works in progress, especially in the first year. In the meantime, here's a photo of the Kobe beef sliders I had, along with those potato wedges tossed with truffle aioli and dusted with Parm.

The sliders, at Corked Wine Bar and Steakhouse in Bethlehem. 

Retro Food Love at Mitzi's Table

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In case you are wondering, Mitzi does indeed refer to a real person. Mitzi's Table, a vibrant retro spot from beloved local food luminary Susan Roth (NCC culinary program, formerly of Susan's Catering in Nazareth) and chef husband Matt, is an homage to Matt's late mother. Serving breakfast and lunch on weekdays and weekend brunch, Mitzi's Table (and old-school diner counter, for that matter) offers comfort foods from around the world, rendered with an updated, fresh spin and local ingredients whenever humanly possible. Mitzi's opened about a month ago. On a recent weekday lunch hour, it was jammed. And for good reason. Mitiz's is the kind of place that's tinged with just the right amount of nostalgia; the Americana, vintage kitchen knickknacks behind the counter is evocative but not overwhelming, steering very clear of kitsch. It makes sense, because Mitzi's is retro in vibe but not in its execution. You may be able to take home some rice pudding (her recipe, naturally), order Coke in a glass bottle, or a side of baked beans (also her recipe), but you'll also find duck confit flatbread and four different versions of fries, ranging from classic and Old Bay to honey chipotle and parmesan and garlic. Furthermore, how many places have a menu that lists Philly roast pork with broccoli raab on a genuine Amoroso roll, followed by fish tacos with a sriracha slaw, a Kentucky Hot Brown and then a Vietnamese banh mi? (The latter is veg-friendly: order with tofu or roast pork). For breakfast, you're going to encounter items such as biscuits and gravy, chicken and waffles, a daily quiche selection, house granola with Greek yogurt, but then you will also find vegan-friendly tofu scramble and a seriously updated rendition of creamed chipped beef, with wild mushrooms (Huh?!). While I was there, I tested out their black bean and quinoa burger, and picked a house salad as my side (the house dressing is a tangerine balsamic; oils and vinegars come from Seasons). See what I mean? You can have a lot of fun here, and I haven't even talked about desserts.

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You'll want to get here early, because they don't take reservations (call ahead if you have a big party, though) and the soft turquoise -and-red colored place seats about 40-50. If you've lived here long enough or traveled here frequently, you know this already about breakfast places. And you likely know the Lehigh Valley is suffering from a serious dearth of breakfast joints; I can think of fewer than ten, not counting diners. The customary waits at places like Jumbars, the Quadrant, Billy's and now, Mitzi's, are indicators that we haven't even begun to saturate this particular market. (I can't speak for Griddle 145; I haven't been there.)

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I agree, which is why I often cook it for dinner. Now if these diner-like places would just stay open for dinner, too, then they'd really be tapping into an underserved market around here. C'mon, people: We're the third-largest metro area in the Commonwealth, and we're growing. We can support this. Let's do it. Breakfast for dinner. Brinner is a winner.

Mitzi's Table,  3650 Nazareth Pike, Bethlehem, PA, 610-730-1670; Hours: Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, breakfast 8-11; lunch 11:30-3; Saturday-Sunday brunch 10am-3pm.

Eat Down on the Bayou, Right in Bethlehem

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Right now, Southern cooking is hot, hot, hot. Many of the country's most innovative chefs and cookbook authors are emerging from that tradition and reinventing it, bringing it to the 21st century. Yet simultaneously, food's many superpowers include the ability to transcend time and place, and evoke memories. This juxtaposition—the past vs. the present, authenticity vs. innovation—is all over the menu at the Bayou in Bethlehem. Of course, the irony here is that I type this post while the wind is whipping, dropping the temperature even lower than its 20 degrees. I'm trying to recall warmer weather, and imagine that I am sipping a Sazerac on a porch swing, with the breeze gently ruffling my hair... But I digress. Time travel isn't possible here, so instead, the Bayou, which opened for business on Monday, March 10 after a soft opening late last week, offers the chance to recall your childhood, your travels, your grandma's cooking. Or none of the above. More likely, it will create brand new associations with the South, filtered through a couple of industry vets who are northerners, one white, one African-American (Does it matter? This is another question entirely), and a motley kitchen crew headed by 27-year-old executive chef Tyler Baxter, who is young enough to take on such an enterprise with ambition and creativity (and who has spent time in Nola cooking in Emeril's restaurants). The question of authenticity is guaranteed to come up, but this is entirely subjective and not really my point here. All I can tell you is that I enjoyed what I ate, and I quizzed everyone I encountered on a lazy Wednesday afternoon about what they ate, including two guys who likely work with their hands (navy blue Carhartt was involved)  at the bar who ordered the gumbo of the day and the buttermilk fried chicken. They dishes evoked high praise and memories of childhood.

The Bayou is blessed with good bones: high ceilings and exposed brick lend a rustic, industrial-chic vibe. Warm-toned walls grace the small space, which seats about 40-50 including the bar. This intimacy suits the food well; it facilitates easy, affable conversation with those around you, the owners, or whoever passes you by. Co-owners Cristian Duarte and Mo Taylor, a couple of friends who've clocked many nights behind the bar with the former Starters Sports Bar group, knew they wanted their own spot and talked about it for years. Independently of each other, they had investigated the property, which had previously operated as the Hawthorn House until it closed in 2009 after a fire. Their admitted greenness at ownership, however, is kind of sweet to see—they are eager to please, eager to engage, and eager to learn. Duarte says, "I have a lot to learn about food. Tyler is opening my eyes and teaching me every day," and even acknowledges the chef has gotten him to eat vegetables. (But when you're talking about pickled veggies and collards cooked with bacon, how can you go wrong?). Taylor, on the other hand, seems more familiar with the food itself. The Jersey native says, "This is the food I grew up eating." Geography be damned.

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It wasn't always a Southern affair, though. Taylor and Duarte were friends with Baxter, who had logged time as co-exec chef at Cosmopolitan in Allentown. They enlisted him early in conversations and asked for menu drafts. The two noticed a thread of Southern staples coming through, and the concept organically emerged. The menu is designed with plenty of variety both in scope and size: snacks, small plates, soups and salads, sandwiches (many an iteration of a po boy) and large plates. They want you to share, graze, hang out, and listen to some live jazz and blues. The 24 craft beers, most of them American, regional and/or indigenous to the cuisine (you'll find a couple of Abitas, including its grapefruit IPA), should help. And maybe, too, one of the expected players on the cocktail lists will do: the Hurricane, the Sazerac, and a jalapeno margarita for the adventurous, among many other creative iterations (Cucumber Fizz, Maple Peach Sour). When the weather finally breaks, anticipate jockeying for position on the adjacent covered patio.

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Back to the food. Baxter, a Coopersburg native, hits just about all of the required notes. You will find grits, catfish, po 'boys, cornbread (with spicy tomato butter), pickled veggies galore, pork, pork, and more pork (pulled, smoked, ribs, belly, and bacon, which they make in-house for the mac & cheese), fried chicken, gumbo (rotating), black-eyed peas (flash fried and tossed with lemon, cayenne and fines herbs), brisket, oxtails with fried green tomatoes, andouille shrimp, hush puppies, and more. Its homage to its roots is honest, but it's definitely filtered through a modern lens (the house bbq sauce is made with root beer), one with a training in the classics and a degree from Northampton Community College's culinary program. The dessert menu balances old and new, too, with a traditional take on Chess Pie (rendered in squares like a bar and served with tart, creamy housemade lemon ice cream), a peanut butter mousse that Duarte says "stops people in their tracks, that's how good it is," a Guinness chocolate cake (St. Patty's is coming), and brown sugar beignets with maple creme anglaise. (Unfortunately, I was so taken with the chess pie I forgot to take a photograph of it. Trust me, it was lovely.)

smoked pork rib

We all bring our own experiences, expectations, and sense memory to everything we eat, no matter whether it's a snack on the run or a fancy-pants meal. But here's a place I can imagine that will bring a lot of different people to it—first dates, groups, barflies, parents with kids (lots of small plates=no need for kid's menu, although that's still being debated in-house).  Even a vegetarian could find something here if you're willing to stay on the small plates, starters, soups and salads side of the menu. Nevertheless, in the hour or so that I was there, eating various samples of the menu and listening to New Orleans jazz (think Preservation Hall), I witnessed a wide swath of customers. The clientele ran the gamut from middle-aged ladies out for lunch to women out with their young children to working-class men sitting at the bar, on their lunch hour, or after their shift. The full menu is right on their website, for perusing. I'd get there early for dinner; it's a snug little spot and they only accept reservations for parties of 8 or more.

The Bayou Southern Kitchen and Bar, 702 Hawthorn Rd., Bethlehem; 610-419-6669; Hours: Sun-Thurs, 11am-11pm; Sat-Sun, 11am-2am.

Five Reasons Why I Love the Easton Farmers' Market: Winter Edition

There are many reasons to love a farmers' market. Perhaps you've got your own. This past weekend's gathering of the Easton Farmers' Market was especially cool. I can always count on serendipity there. However, two small, remarkable things happened that inspired me to take a step back and express some gratitude for what these farmers and food purveyors bring forth Saturday after Saturday, through one of the harshest winters in recent memory. And this was so after-the-fact, that I don't have many photos. 1. As much as I know about food, I am still learning. This is one of the most rewarding, and humbling, things about working with food and writing about it. It has so much to teach us. Since the market moved indoors in early winter, I have bought at least two different kinds of produce I'd never seen before. One of them is called a bottle onion, grown by Josie Porter Farm. It looks like an elongated shallot; it's like a cross between a shallot and a standard yellow cooking onion (Several days after I bought this, I noticed Nigella Lawson calling them "banana shallots," on her Nigelissima program)  I've been roasting them with veggies because they become especially sweet that way. They're also great minced finely and tossed into a vinaigrette.

The other item is something called claytonia, a.k.a. miner's lettuce, grown by Jett's Produce. This little green beauty grows in the cold of winter and the miners used to take it down with them into them mines to prevent scurvy, because it's rich in Vitamin C.

claytonia

2. Related to number one: Thank you to Blue Moon Acres for connecting with Eat This! to supply us with some microgreens, including arugula and sunflower microgreens--a first for me. With the absence of Blooming Glen Farm, which took a hiatus this winter and had supplied us with microgreens and pea shoots last winter, this has provided a nutritional windfall to smoothies and alongside eggs.

3. We stocked up on apples from Scholl Orchards because it was the last week for them after a remarkable season from this Bethlehem farm. The Scholl Brothers Ben and Jake are so affable and great with my kids in general, but this week they thanked us for being such good market customers and just gave us a quart of apple cider, along with a couple of small cups, so we could sit and drink it right there (because with kids, you cannot wait.) Supermarkets don't do that, people. Nor do they make such amazing cider. And oh! Have you had their applesauce?

4. Stephanie Smith at 4th Street Foodworks filled up the pockets of my boys with organic kettle corn, who regularly make a Hansel-and-Gretel trail of popcorn mess leading from their table. If you have never tried their popcorn, you gotta do it. Vegan. Coconut oil. Gluten-free. Organic corn. And varieties that include chocolate, kale (yes, you read correctly!) and a spicy one I've seen now and then, too.

5. Two weeks ago I purchased something new, a honey corn loaf, from the Flour Shop Bakery, and Josh said to me, "Let me know how you like it." I came back and shared my experience--it was gone in 24 hours. And then bought another one.

It behooves a vendor to know what his or her customers enjoy, and what doesn't work. Feedback is king, and this old-school display of customer service-driven commerce is just one of many components of a successful farmers' market.

What about you? Inquiring minds wanna know. Why do you love farmers' markets? If you shop at the Easton Market, you know what I'm talking about here. If not, please share where you shop, and why you love it.

Weyerbacher Brewing Gets an Upgraded Visitors' Center

Ah, how lucky are we here in the Lehigh Valley? This past weekend, we just had an amazing Baconfest at the Easton Farmers' Market, with attendances in the tens of thousands. We have great restaurants. And we have great beer. Now, it will be even easier for beer tourists—and Lehigh Valley residents, let's not forget—to get in on the Weyerbacher love during the week. The Visitors' Center has expanded, there are new, bigger signs reflecting the updated logo, there are new family-friendly bathrooms, and there are 28 taps (14 on each side--redundant taps) to serve you. Not to mention a gorgeous, concrete-topped bar. But perhaps the most significant improvement is the fact that you can now buy beer from the brewery almost any day of the week: Weyerbacher's hours have expanded from Monday-Saturday, 12pm-7pm.

Currently, on tap and available in six-packs—and this could change at any moment—is the first of the new brewer's select series, called Aries. It's mix of Imperial Pumpkin Ale and Old Heathen. It's a "black and orange," says Bill Bragg, who's the general honcho of the visitors' center and in charge of Weyerbacher's publicity. "It was born out of the creativity of our sales reps, who started mixing them. It doesn't pour like a black and tan, though," he says. And like all of their special brews and seasonal selections, once it's gone, it's gone.

Bill Bragg, beer baron of the Weyerbacher Visitors' Center.

Fans of Weyerbacher may remember the first brewers' select series went through the military alphabet. Upon tasting some Aries (and then purchasing a six pack), I asked if they're going through the entire zodiac, and Bragg says no, they're going through all of the 44 constellations in the Northern Hemisphere. That's ambitious, but unsurprising given the creativity of head brewer Chris Wilson and his staff. The next one up? "Augira, a strong ale," he says. Stay tuned to Weyerbacher for his updates on availability.

And if you haven't visited in a while, or you aren't aware of this change, you can now buy one bottle or an entire case. Pennsylvania's liquor laws used to dictate that you had to buy an entire case at Weyerbacher. (You could of course mix it up.) Now, as Bragg puts it, "You can buy it by the 12-ounce bottle or the truck. We prefer the truck," he says. Their beers are available in various forms, depending on type, from two-ounce free samples to growlers, bottles, six-packs, 750ml cork-and-cage bottles, to sixtels and kegs.

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If you go, you can get the full tour on Friday nights and during Saturday afternoons, and maybe during the week if there's time. Mostly, Bragg says that he hopes that residents in the area will come during the week for free tastings and sales, which will make things a little easier on the weekends when the visitors' center is much more crammed and people are elbow-to-elbow looking for a taste of the latest Weyerbacher elixir. "We really want locals to come during the week—you get more one-on-one attention that way," he says.

The expansion also bumped the physical plant out toward the back, garnering the brewery an additional 6,500 square feet, with floor drains, so they moved production over there—from fermentation to bottling and kegging. These changes can only mean good things for beer lovers. Just in time for the holidays!

For more information: Weyerbacher Brewing Company, 905 Line Street, Easton, PA; 610-559-5561. Tours: Fridays, 5:30; Saturdays, 1pm, 3pm, 5pm; weekdays, based on availability.

Crazy Zucchini Harvest: Make Fritters!

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My amazing friend C, who just had a baby, tends to her community garden plot in between feedings. She was there over the weekend and there was only one flower that was bearing fruit. Today she returned and was greeted with a small army of baseball-bat sized zucchini. Ok, I exaggerate, but only slightly. She thought she'd planted seeds for half yellow squash (her preference) and half zucchini, but alas! alack! no such luck.

We lined them up and weighed them. The biggest clocked in at 4 pounds, 11 ounces.

In case you're like us--curious, hungry, and inventive, but man-that's-a-lotta-zucchini--here are some links to some good zucchini recipes, and suggestions for what to do.

Zucchini bread: Tried and true. Freeze a bunch. You'll be glad you did. My favorite recipe comes from  King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking, and involves white whole wheat flour, cinnamon, and is really moist.

Grilled, roasted, sauteed. Salt and pepper. Olive oil. You don't need much else.

Turn them into ribbons and saute with herbs.

Eat them raw with salt and pepper.

Slice them thinly and top them on homemade flatbread pizzas.

Zucchini pie. Here's one.

Zucchini Oven Chips, from Cooking Light. I've always wanted to make these. Perhaps this is the year; some are large enough that they'll be more like discs than chips but who cares?

Last summer, with all the swiss chard that kept giving itself up for our enjoyment, I made a lot of reverse frittatas, inspired by a Mark Bittman column. I've been calling it the less egg, more veg frittata. The photo you see here also includes local purple potatoes from last summer.

And finally, my favorite delicious thing to do with zucchini is to make Nigella Lawson's zucchini, mint, and feta fritters. Here's the recipe, from NPR's site. Here's the basic text of it. The recipe is from her book Forever Summer. It yields about two dozen, and it's great as is with salad for dinner, or makes a good summer lunch, too.

* 4 zucchini (approx. 1 pounds)

* 5-6 scallions, finely chopped

* 9 ounces feta cheese

* small bunch fresh parsley, chopped

* small bunch fresh mint, chopped, plus extra to sprinkle over at the end

* 1 tablespoon dried mint

* 1 teaspoon paprika

* scant 1 cup all-purpose flour

* salt and pepper

* 3 eggs, beaten

* olive oil for frying

* 3-4 limes

Coarsely grate the zucchini with either the grating blade in the food processor or by hand. Spread the little shards out on a tea towel and leave for about 20 minutes to get rid of any excess wetness.

Put the chopped scallions in a bowl and crumble in the feta. Stir in the chopped parsley and mint, along with the dried mint and paprika. Add the flour and season well with salt and pepper. Gradually add the beaten egg and mix thoroughly before stirring in the drained, grated zucchini. Don't be alarmed by the unflowing straggly lumpiness of this batter; it's meant to be this way.

Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a large frying pan and drop heaped dessertspoons of the moisture into the hot oil, flattening the little cakes down the back of the spoon as you go. Cook these little patties for about 2 minutes each side until golden, and then transfer to a couple of waiting plates.

Chop up the limes and tumble them about the edges of the plates. Sprinkle over a little more chopped mint and eat them just as they are, spritzed with lime juice as you go.

And finally, here's the zucchini haul. Note the Croc, carefully positioned, to provide perspective.

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