I could eat salad every day. Something about the combination of different textures and flavors, all dressed with a good, homemade dressing just grabs my palate.

But you can fall into a rut, and we do. It’s so easy to use tender green leaf lettuce and cut up an apple and crumble some blue cheese and throw on toasted almonds. Not that it isn’t good because it is, especially when there’s a tiny touch of Dijon mustard int he dressing, and maybe we pick up a fennel and slice a little of that in there, you know, if we’re feeling flush.

Sometimes I have to break out of the box and make myself go find another salad. Explore new green avenues. The spinach salad in the prevoius posting, for instance. And this little paradigm-shifting fried cheese salad.

We ate a lot of halloumi cheese in England. Vegetarians like it because you can grill and fry it, and there are a lot of vegetarians in England. The low milk fat, high protein profile causes haloumi to cook rather than melt. Fry it like a patty, serve it on a bun. Stuff it into portobellos. Top a salad with it. We were so sorry that we couldn’t  find it here. Big Fella was told that’s because one company controlled the distribution for this part of the country and they preferred to sell halloumi in industrial amounts rather than consumer-size packages.

Lately, we’ve been spotting it in a Middle Eastern market on Nolensville Road. Two very similar recipes on recipezaar.com pointed in the same general direction: a warm caper vinaigrette. The recipe is from Delia Smith, who is sort of the Julia Child of England. Or maybe more the Marian Cunningham. Solid, dependable, unflashy but innovative. I like that in a recipe as much as in a person.

Fried Halloumi with Caper Vinaigrette Over Salad

Zest and juice of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tabelspoon balsamic vinegar
1 to 2 teaspoons capers
1 garlic cloves, minced
1 shallot, minced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1 block halloumi (it’s usually around 8 to 10 ounces)
Flour seasoned with salt and pepper
Oil for frying (just a little)

Whisk or shake the dressing ingredients to blend. Pat the cheese dry and slice into 8 slices. Coat the slices with a little flour and fry in just little oil until golden. Layer over salad greens and dress with the vinaigrette. Makes 2 main dish or 4 side salads.

Only when I’m cooking professionally do I make a list and go into a store and buy the items to make a recipe. Instead, I usually buy what I think we’ll eat. In practice, that means many dinners are built around whatever foods in the fridge/freezer need to be eaten.

Pinto beans and some Nathan’s hot dogs taking up real estate in the freezer, turkey bacon and a bell pepper reaching their sell-by date and some no-salt-added ketchup purchased by accident — a batch of beanie weenie would clear it all out at once.

About 35 years separate me and my last serving of beanie weenie, so I can’t explain why it came to mind. It seemed like an interesting path: study up on 35 years’ worth of technological and flavor-profile improvements to the somewhat lame beanie weenie of my youth. But when I looked for a beanie weenie recipe, I came up empty-handed except for three “combine a can of pork and beans with some sliced hot dogs” on Recipezaar.com. Not what I wanted. I looked in some very likely cookbooks: Fannie Farmer, the Dinah Shore cookbook, Amy Vanderbilt, the old Joy (2 editions), the Good Housekeeping cookbook, Dinner Doctor. Maybe people didn’t make beanie weenie from scratch. I never have before either, it’s true, but I figured someone out there was doing so, especially in these economically trying times.

So I developed a recipe. The trick is to cook the bacon, onion and pepper low and slow, and to make a little roux. Not a big scary roux. You’re just browning a little flour in a little oil so all those flavorful fats and oils form a suspension that binds the beans and the hot dogs so they become one in deliciousness. Pintos and Dawgs were very good, and even Sweet Cheeks only had to be asked twice to eat it. I even wrote down the recipe, so I have a copy of it. And now you do too.

And the plate partner there in the photo is panelle, a crazy good French fry substitute made from chickpea flour and nearly carbless, recipe from my pal Claudia at CookeatFRET.com

Pintos and Dawgs

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 tablespoon butter

3 slices turkey bacon, chopped

1/2 chopped onion

1/2 chopped green bell pepper

2 tablespoons flour

5 hot dogs, sliced

1 scant cup chicken bouillon or broth

1/2 teaspoon ground mustard

1/4 cup barbecue sauce

2 tablespoons ketchup

2 to 3 cups cooked pinto beans

Salt to taste

In a nonstick pan, heat the oil and butter over medium-low heat and saute the bacon until the fat is rendered. Add the bell pepper and onion and saute until very tender and beginning to brown. Sprinkle with the flour and saute for about 10 minutes until browned. Add the hot dogs and saute until browned. The mixture will be sticking to the pan. Add the chicken broth and mix very well. Cook until thickened, about 3 minutes. Add the mustard, barbecue sauce and ketchup and mix well. Cook until thickened and hot. Taste it — the mixture should be tangy but not tomatoey. Add the beans and salt and cook until heated through. Makes 3 to 4 servings.

Tupperware Avalanche is becoming an all-vegetable venue, and for that I apologize, so I’ll try to be funny or at least amusing.

Here’s our drawer of artisanal, seasonal, hand-grown marital aids. Hellooo big boy! If I were in charge of squash variety names, I’d go for the evocative: Hung Lo, Hoss, and GoodFellow (a great name for Italian zucchini varieties, I think you’ll agree).

(Speaking of which, have you seen this British commercial yet on YouTube? Food and sex, inextricably intertwined.)

The photo doesn’t really convey the volume of squash in the drawer; they’re three deep in places, so the five you can see cover about seven more. This photo was taken well after I cooked and photographed this roll call of squash dishes.

Squash Crab Soup — $15 a pot for a world-class, soothing, and devastatingly rich meal. Recipe below.

Thai Squid with Lemongrass and Basil (And Finely Shredded Zucchini That Fortunately Disappears When Cooked): hot, salty, sweet, fragrant. Served over shredded cabbage rather than rice — a Thai cook told me that a bed of cabbage is authentically Thai, not to mention carb-free.

Did I mention ratatouille, that hardy perennial? Saw the film Ratatouille last week, finally, after being reassured by Sweet Cheeks and others that “no, really, it’s a good story.” And it is, if you don’t mind the idea of rats in the dish water and dozens of rats swarming over the kitchen floor. I wasn’t able to suspend judgment long enough for the rat to fully self-actualize and become a sympathetic character. Call me intolerant, but I saw him and his buddies as just another 25-point health department violation.

Sausage and Zucchini Bake with a layer of cheese pasta on top that can be picked off for a carbless entree. As an extra bonus for visiting Tupperware Avalanche, I’m throwing in a photo of the patriarch, a genuine American orphan who pulled himself up by his bootstraps, and cleaned his plate even when he didn’t like what was being served. An example to all of us.

And for dessert, Squash Cake the First, nicely cinnamony and nutmeggy, topped with a homemade marshmallow drizzle and orange zest. Phwoar, as the British say. Cake The Second got a broiled topping of coconut, rice krispies, brown sugar and evaporated milk. It was pretty good but my broiler is like a blast furnace, even when set on “low,” so we picked off the burnt bits.

There you have it, and if you have a squash recipe for me to try, I’d love to have it, cuz I’m fresh out of ideas. The squash remaining in the drawer may have to go into the freezer so I can get some peace.

Low Country Crab and Squash Soup

I cooked my squash to a puree because I wanted a smoother soup. Stirred it in along with the water.
* 8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter
* 1 carrot, grated
* 2 small onions, minced
* 1 garlic clove, minced (or 1 teaspoon garlic powder)
* 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
* 2 lbs squash, grated
* 1/4 cup crab base or shrimp base or lobster base
* 1 quart water
* 1 lb crabmeat
* 1/2 cup flour
* 1 cup milk
* 1 cup half-and-half
* salt
* chives

Melt the butter in a 1-gallon pot and saute the carrots, onions and garlic until onion is transparent. Add the pepper flakes and squash and cook until squash is tender.
Add the crab paste and water and mix well. Heat to a simmer then add the crab meat. Heat through and taste the soup. Add more water if it seems to strong or salty (since soup bases vary in strength).
Whisk together the flour and a little of the milk to make a paste. Whisk in the remaining milk and half-and-half. Add the mixture to the soup. Cook, stirring, until the soup thickens, but try not to let it boil. Add salt to taste, if needed. Garnish with chives to serve. Makes 6 servings.

How many times have you read that? Even people who hate fruitcake love this one. Even people who hate mushrooms love this soup.

What is it about food-hating that instantly makes people want to convert the hater? Tell someone you loathe peas/liver/brussels sprouts and suddenly she’s at your elbow waving a recipe and crooning, “Even my kids, who won’t eat anything, love these.” Whatever it is you dislike, it’s probably happened to you. I know I’ve done it myself.

Why do they do it? People are just nice, I guess, and they want everyone to enjoy a food as much as they do. Sometimes it’s just not going to happen. But occasionally, with a really good recipe, it’s possible to convert someone.

Case in point: there’s a tofu-hater at my table occasionally. I made an Indonesian Tofu Omelet the other day in which it was impossible to detect the tofu. IM.POSSIBLE. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t made it and tasted it. Tofu Hatah was visiting, and there was not much else to eat. (Except kale.) So while I don’t like to lie to people about what’s in the food, (because what if they’re allergic?) I called it an Indonesian omelet. It tastes a lot like Vietnamese banh xeo, which is just about my favorite Vietnamese food, which is just about my favorite cuisine. It went down the hatch without a hitch.

Do I feel a little guilty? Maybe so, but if you don’t actually tell the person, they don’t lose face, do they? Because that would just be rude. Way ruder than feeding someone a food they claim to hate.

Indonesian Tofu Omelet

This recipe is from The Southeast Asia Cookbook.

Drop the bean sprouts into boiling water for about 30 seconds. Refresh under cold water.

Drain and mash the tofu. Beat the tofu with the eggs and salt. Stir in the sprouts. Oil an 8-inch skillet or crepe pan. Add half of the mixture. Cover and cook until set. Flip it over and cook the other side (or broil it) until cooked through. Repeat with the remaining tofu mixture.

Combine the kecap manis and vinegar. Drizzle over each omelet. Scatter the chiles, peanuts and parsley over each. Cut into quarters. Makes 2 main dish servings; up to 6 appetizer servings.�

In search of innovative uses for the fourth weekly box of farm-raised organic greens, I pulled out one of my favorite cookbooks. Raghavan Iyer’s Turmeric Trail is a vivid picture of a working class Indian childhood, and the foods in the book are not like those in other Indian cookbooks. These are not the cream-enriched soups of the Raj or the rich lamb curries of your local restaurant. Instead, the book is about a spare but abundant childhood of his mother’s and grandmother’s frugal cooking: spiced onions made to stuff into a dimple of a rice ball, buttermilk curry, and potatoes in spices with just a tablespoon of split dried lentils for protein. There are meat and fish recipes in the book, but meat has never passed the man’s lips.

I know this because Iyer doesn’t live in a small house in India anymore — he’s in Minneapolis now, living downtown next door to my friend Melissa. They’re urban pioneers in tall, ancient houses in the shadow of the skyscrapers. The book is his attempt to describe his childhood in recipes.

Spiced Kale in Coconut Milk is along the lines of saag, while Chick Pea Flour Crepes (glycemic load: 27) are our latest discovery in the quest for a lower carb way to eat. The two make a fine, meatless meal that we look forward to having again. It almost, almost made us wish that greens season weren’t coming to an end.

Here’s the chickpea flour batter just before cooking. I must have accidentally pressed the Do Not Press button because the camera pouted and sulked and refused to take a picture of the finished meal. It looked pretty much like any mess o greens with corncakes, but it tasted way better.

Chick-Pea Flour Crepes
From The Turmeric Trail by Raghavan Iyer.

• 1 cup chick-pea flour (labeled gram or besan flour and found in Indian markets)
• 1/4 cup rice flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon turmeric
• 1 cup water
• 1 teaspoon sambhar masal, optional
• Vegetable oil for the skillet

Combine the flours, salt, turmeric and water in a bowl. Beat until smooth. Let stand 15 minutes. Coat a crepe pan of 8-inch skillet with vegetable oil. Pour in 1/4 cup batter and quickly tilt the pan to spread the batter. Cook for 2 minutes until the top loses its gloss. Turn and cook the other side. Keep crepes warm in aluminum foil. They can be reheated without toughening. Makes 6 crepes.

Sambhar Masala
This mixture is hot, hot, hot with a deep, toasty flavor. It keeps in the freezer for 2 years — that’s how long mine has been there, and it still tastes great. I adapted it slightly from Raghavan Iyer’s version.

• 1/2 cup dried red Thai, serrano or cayenne chiles
• 3 tablespoons chana dal (yellow split peas) or urad dal (split black lentils)
• 1 teaspoon coriander seed
• 1 teaspoon fenugreek seed
• 1 teaspoon black peppercorns
• 1 teaspoon vegetable oil
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric

Combine all of the ingredients except in a bowl and mix well to coat with the oil. Heat a small skillet over medium-high heat and add the spice mixture. Toasts, shaking the pan and stirring, for 3 to 4 minutes until the chiles blacken and the lentils are golden brown. Transfer to bowl or plate and let cool. Grind until the mixture has a texture like finely ground pepper. Keep in an airtight jar at room temperature for 2 months. or in the freezer up to 2 years.

Stewed Greens with Coconut Milk
Mustard seeds popped in oil taste and smell just like popcorn, and just a spoonful of them is enough to flavor a whole pot of greens. If you use spinach, just cook it from its raw state. If you choose a sturdier green like collards or kale, cook them to tenderness first. (15 minutes in pressure cooker)
10 ounces fresh spinach, or cooked kale or collards
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
1 teaspoon sambhar masala
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsweetened coconut milk
1/2 cup water
Cook the greens first if using kale or collards. Heat the oil over medium-high heat in a medium saucepan. Add the mustard seeds and cover the pan. Pop them until the popping stops. Add the spinach a handful at a time and cook just until wilted (or add the cooked kale and collards all at once. Add the remaining ingredients cook, uncovered and stirring, for 3 to 4 minutes to blend the flavors. Makes a main dish for 2 or side dish for 4.