Less is More, More or Less.

I've always heard that it's wise to stop and check yourself in the mirror right before you walk out the door and remove one element of your outfit; the hat, the pin on your jacket, something. Since I am terrible at accessorizing – I never wear hats, belts or pins on my jackets or sweaters. Hell, I hardly even stray from solid colors – that concept seems to be non-issue with me in the fashion department.

The kitchen department, however, is another story entirely. I like to throw a lot of different elements into most of my dishes. Admittedly, they can get very busy. I think it's because A) I always try to move ingredients through my kitchen with regularity, hence adding that shisito pepper or a splash of orange thyme-infused vinegar before it goes bad, and B) I'm very curious about flavor and texture combinations and really like to experiment. And let's all admit it; neither of these are bad intentions or bad applications.

But when I think about the chefs and the foods that most inspire me, and when I think about a quote I have mentioned here countless times, about simplicity being the hallmark of genius, I wonder why I don't practice it more often in my kitchen.

I mean, must I add shiso butterto a grilled steak? Do I really need to add sherry to tuna casserole? Is it necessary to make my own almond meal to add to a classic pie crust in lieu of sticking to the straight-up all-purpose flour? The answer is, of course, no. I will say, though, that while I have experienced my share of flops with these twists, I have stumbled upon great success equally as often.

But at Summer's peak, when all of my very favorite produce has hit its stride and is as perfect as it could ever possibly be, why gild the lily? So lately, I have had a lot of tomato sandwiches for lunch. That means, soft white(ish) bread, good mayonnaise, salt, pepper (generous portions of all) and big, thick slices of tomato. That's it. No basil, no bacon, no lettuce, nothing to distract from the celebrity of that tomato.

And corn. During this time of year just cut it from the cob and eat it raw with a little salt and pepper. Maybe even toss a little fresh tomato in there, too. Keep it simple. Listen to the corn sing her (his?) solo. Less is more.

More or less.

Which brings me to the bowl full of fresh, ripe avocados on the kitchen counter staring me down a few days ago. I have really been wanting to make that whole egg-baked-in-the-hole-of-the-avocado-half thing I've been seeing all over Pinterest and whatnot. But then I stopped myself... 'Don't cook it, for crying out loud. Keep it simple.' And so I listened to me: I kept it simple and I kept it raw. I made a cold soup and I let the avocado sing. And her voice was smooth, soft, clear and bright. Kind of like Sade, actually.

For now I think I'm going to keep on keeping it simple in the kitchen, but try to incorporate hats into my wardrobe.

Chilled Avocado-Cucumber Soup with Buttermilk

Serves 2-4 (depending on whether it's served as entree size or appetizer size)

Ingredients

1 ripe avocado

½ cup buttermilk

1/2 cucumber, peeled and seeded, plus some julienned pieces for garnish

1 tablespoon cilantro, plus some sprigs for garnish

1/4 of a shallot, diced

¼ tsp cayenne pepper

Juice of half a lime

½ cup – ⅔ cup water

Sea salt & black pepper

Toasted pepitas for garnish

Directions

In a blender mix together the avocado, cucumber, buttermilk, cilantro, salt, shallot, cayenne pepper, lime juice, ½ cup water. Blend until completely smooth and then check for consistency. If you want a thinner soup add more water.

Pour the soup into two glasses or one bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for at least one hour before serving.

When the soup is ready to serve, dice the remaining avocado. Garnish the soup with avocado chunks, julienned cucumber, pepitas, cilantro, salt and pepper. Serve immediately while it is still cold.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Heirloom Tomato & Fresh Basil Frittata

Three years ago: Grilled Salmon with Market Relish over Jasmine Rice

We Got the Beet.

Growing up we had a Patrick Nagel print hanging on a wall in the dining room. It's exactly the one you're thinking of. Or maybe not. A lot of them have that woman in them. You know, the woman on the cover of Duran Duran's Rio. I never much cared for it. Oh, I loved the album, just not the print hanging on the wall in our dining room. My dad really liked that whole style; that very 80s, minimalist, pastel thing. My dad really liked the 80s, in general. And the 80s liked my dad. They made sense together. He was newly single, very handsome, a great cook, liked to travel, play tennis, hang glide and party. And, of course, he was into the art.

Patrick Nagel was born in 1945. My dad was born in 1945. Patrick Nagel's work was greatly inspired by and directly descended from Art Deco. And Art Deco is, without a doubt, my dad's favorite visual design style. His house and work are both filled with furniture and light fixtures from the Deco era.

Unlike my dad, who is alive, healthy and happy, Patrick Nagel died at the peak of his life and career, at thirty-eight years of age. Strange as it sounds, immediately after participating in a fifteen minute celebrity 'Aerobithon' to raise money for the American Heart Association, Nagel was found dead in his car. From a heart attack. The Reagan Era was a bitch.

This past weekend I was in a fun, food frenzy in the kitchen. I just wanted to make stuff. I see some rhubarb. Let's make a cake! I see leftover coffee and a pork tenderloin. Let's make a marinade and grill stuff! I see beets and carrots. Let's make a borsch! I see Greek yogurt and horseradish. Let's make a garnish for the borsch! You get the idea.

The borsch came out so bright, saturated, rich and vivid that it immediately reminded me, visually, of Pop Art. Flashes of bright colors and sharp shapes from the works of Warhol, Lichtenstein, and yes, Nagel rushed through my head. Fred agreed, but his head was swimming with images of Bauhaus and Kandinsky. Which is totally appropriate for cold borsch as all three are/were Russian! And thus our Sunday unfolded into the eighties-inspired photoshoot of borsch. I did very little styling on this shoot. Fred really ran with it on his own. I picked the soundtrack: The Go-Go's. Right around the time that Nagel was at his peak, so were The Go-Go's. And right around that time I participated in a lip syncing 'class' at Summer camp. And our group's piéce de résistance was, you guessed it, 'We Got the Beat'. I was Belinda Carlisle and my tennis racket was my guitar. Though I'm pretty sure Belinda Carlisle did not actually play the guitar. Man, I miss my Swatch.

The bosrcht was quite good. A success. It was rich and bold with a rear kick of subtle heat from the white pepper and the horseradish yogurt. It was complex on the palate but finished very neatly. This innocent little soup also made a morbid mess of anything that came near it. We had so much left over that we took it up to a Memorial Day BBQ in the canyon. I think I saw one person try it. Who can blame them? At a cookout abundant with steaks, lamb, burgers, sausages, corn salad, chips, banana crème pudding and booze, who wants to deal with a bowl of borsch?

Ah, well. It's not for everyone. People kind of either love it or hate it. I'm not certain what Patrick Nagel liked to eat, but if he's anything like my dad, borsch was not high on the list. 

Me, I'll take a bowl any time.

Chilled Beet Soup with Horseradish Yogurt

Serves 4-6

4 cups (or more) chicken stock

1 pound beets, peeled, chopped

1 cup chopped onion

1 cup peeled chopped carrot

2 teaspoons chopped garlic

1 teaspoon sugar

1 bay leaf

2 tablespoons horseradish

A handful of fresh chives, trimmed

Greek yogurt

Generous salt & white pepper to taste

Combine 4 cups broth, beets, onions, carrot, bay leaf and garlic in medium saucepan. Bring to boil.

Reduce heat to medium-low; cover and simmer until vegetables are very tender, about 35 minutes. Cool slightly. Remove bay leaf and puree in blender in batches until smooth. Transfer to bowl.

Thin with additional stock if soup is too thick. Mix in sugar. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and chill until cold, at least 4 hours or overnight. (Can be prepared 2 days ahead. Keep refrigerated.)

Ladle soup into bowls.

In a small bowl, mix horseradish and yogurt. Put a dollop of horseradish mixture in the middle of the bowl of soup and top with chives.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Classic Shad Roe with Bacon & Fresh Herbs

Two years ago: Yerp: Part 1 (of many).

Three years ago: Sautéed Baby Artichokes with Olive Oil, Garlic & Lemon