Summer is a lucky season, everyone loves summer and I’m no exception. I love the heat and even though it makes me lethargic and lazy I still buoyantly chase the sun. Those three liberating months have provided me with nothing but marvelous memories throughout the years. Every summer when I would come home from camp I would watch the Parent Trap every day for a week to keep the camp momentum from ending. I spent two childhood summers in Iran visiting my family and soaking in incredible food and a culture that I strongly craved.  Food has always played an intrinsic role in summer memories — my mother’s staple breakfast of warm, Persian bread stuffed with feta cheese and fresh basil accompanied with Cardamom tea,  the salt water dipped, roasted corn sold on the streets of Tehran, the sweet tomatoes and figs of Armenia and the insanely addictive raspberry-oreo ice cream at Sundae School in Dennisport, Cape Cod. I spent endless summer days in San Franciso desperately praying to the sun gods to send heat to the city so I can walk around in my skirt, wife beater and flip- flops. Unfortunately the sun gods turned a deaf ear to my cries, so my mantra became the famous words of Mark Twain, “The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco.” Aside from vacations, wife beaters and flip-flops, I love summer because it’s the only time of year where I consume an enormous amount of my favorite fruits.  There’s nothing like biting into cold, juicy mangoes, cherries and strawberries during the sweltering L.A. heat. On the flip side, there are certain summer fruits that I don’t eat with type of fervor because they simply don’t move me.

A week ago I went to the Italian deli for some Burrata cheese and picked up the latest issue of La Cucina Italia to see what summer recipes were flowing in its pages. A whole section dedicated to melon recipes caught my eye. Melons are definitely not one of my favorite fruits, I only eat them to cool down from the heat. I can’t even count the amount of melons I had to carve in culinary school. Mastering the proper ways to work around the curves was intricate in creating cohesive and beautiful fruit trays. All that carving helped me with my knife skills and getting the “A” I needed for Garde Manger class, aside from that I had no use for them.

The recipes in the magazine reconfirmed for me that melons worked best when paired with something wonderful like prosciutto, and in the case of this particular recipe, pistachios and blackberries with a blackberry sauce. The recipe caught my eye because the striking colors of the fruits immediately popped out of the magazine, and as they say, “You eat with your eyes first.” It’s a simple dessert consisting of melons and blackberries with a blackberry-pistachio sauce. Summer is nothing without ice cream and since pistachios are synonymous with Persian Saffron-Rosewater ice cream an a la mode dessert was an unavoidable.

The recipe asked for the pistachios to be roughly chopped but feeling a bit adventurous, I decided to make pistachio dust instead.  Prior to this little experiment I had neither eaten nor made pistachio dust. I absolutely love the concept of pollen and dust for culinary uses. The powder’s mesh beautifully with whatever they’re sprinkled on and the food takes on the essence of the flavor with ease. I add beet powder to salads and often cook with fennel pollen, especially with seafood dishes. Homemade rosemary–thyme dust regularly makes an appearance in my savory dishes and it also tastes divine when you sprinkle it on ice cream and fruit. Out of curiosity I Googled “pistachio pollen” to see if such a culinary toy existed, but surprisingly I found nothing. Instead, I got lost for half an hour reading a heap of articles discussing the effects of pollination on pistachio cultivation.

I eventually found my way back to the pages of La Cucina Italia and headed to the Middle Eastern market for the fruit, pistachios and ice cream. I give thanks for Middle Eastern markets, they keep my wallet fatter with their great produce and mom & pop prices. Melons remind me of two things, Garde Manger (my favorite class in culinary school) and director Peter Bogdonovich. A few years ago Mr. Bogdonovich happened to be living in a certain West Hollywood hotel that I had been working at and for one year I cooked his dinner a few nights a week. He had been living in and out of the hotel for years and had just returned at the time that I’d been hired. He always ordered the same thing — salmon with bok choy, a Cobb salad with no eggs or blue cheese and for “dessert” he only ordered thinly sliced melons. One night he sent back the salmon that had been cooked by my coworker Mildre, nicknamed El Tigre for his prowess with the ladies. The waiter brought the food back yelling at El Tigre telling him the man upstairs was a famous director named Bogdonovich and now he was worried he would lose a good tip. He claimed the salmon was too soggy. El Tigre gave the waiter a careless shrug so I grabbed another salmon filet, dusted it with flour, seared it to a crisp and sent it back upstairs.

Later that evening a request was sent from upstairs that from now on Mr. Bogdonovich’s salmon was to be cooked by whoever sent up the second salmon.  At the moment I thought, “Wow how cool, from now on I get to cook Peter Bogdonovich’s salmon,” but then came the neurosis of the melons.  From that moment on his melons also became my responsibility.  They had to be of a certain texture and carved no more than a ¼ inch thick. If there was even a slight bit of mushiness to the melons, he would send them back immediately with the waiter yelling at me about his tip. At least three nights a week I would sharpen the hell out of my knife, gently run the blade down those curves as smoothly as possible and attempt to carve perfectly moon shaped melons. Before slicing them, I would taste them first to make sure they were the right texture while  my coworkers stood around laughing and calling the man upstairs Loco. However being someone who has neurotic tendencies myself, I completely understood the man’s affinity for perfectly sliced and textured melons and for that one year I took great pride in carving them to his liking.

This recipe on the other hand is easy with no neurosis attached and can be done in less than half an hour. I used a melon baller to scoop out the melons. The pistachio dust was easy as well, I roasted whole pistachios and tossed them into a mini chopper and chopped them very fine. La Cucina Italia’s recipe for the blackberry sauce asked for the blackberries to be sautéed with sugar only, but I wanted to add some more flavor to the dessert so I added honey, Grand Marnier and butter to the sauce and finished it off with the powdered pistachio. It’s a simple, colorful dish and the floral Saffron-Rosewater ice cream takes it to a whole other level.  Melons have now officially moved up my list of favorite summer fruits. My memories of melons that this recipe helped resurrect were actually far from boring and it hit me that melons had in fact been very useful to me throughout the years. I realized that sometimes it’s okay to be a little boring and safe, I liked how their mild flavor gave my palate a break from the tart blackberry sauce and fragrant ice cream.  Plus the contrasting colors looked beautiful on the plate and the pistachio dust added texture to the fruit and fortified that lovely pistachio taste. Mostly though I’m grateful to melons for being the vehicle that indirectly introducing me to Peter Bogdonovich, who not only helped boost my confidence in the kitchen but also directed one of my favorite films The Last Picture Show and introduced the world to that mellow and gorgeous man who simply goes by the name “The Dude.”

Persian Saffron-rosewater ice cream called Akbar Mashti can be found in Middle Eastern stores, Whole Foods (on the West Coast) and Mashti Malone’s, the best Akbar Mashti makers outside of Iran who ship nationwide. Adapted from La Cucina Italia’s recipe: Melone a Palline con Salsa di More e Pistacchi

Wine Pairing – Dry Moscato

Melons and Blackberries with Blackberry-Pistachio Sauce and Saffron-Rosewater Ice Cream

Yield 4 servings

¼ cup shelled unsalted pistachios

2 tbsp unsalted butter

1 cup blackberries

1 tbsp honey

1 tbsp lime juice

2 tbsp Grand Marnier or Cointreau

1 (3 ¼ to 3 ½ -pound) cantaloupe, halved crosswise, seeded

1. Heat oven to 350°. Spread pistachios on a baking pan and toast until fragrant, about 4 minutes. Let cool, then using a mini chopper or food processor until finely grated.

2. Cut ¼ cup blackberries in half; set aside.

3. In a sauté’ pan, melt butter and add the remaining 3/4 cup blackberries, honey, Grand Marnier and lime juice and cook for 2-4 minutes and remove from heat. Sprinkle 1-2 tbsp of the pistachio dust and mix into the sauce.

4. Using a hand held blender or regular blender purée the blackberry sauce. Divide the blackberry sauce among 4 serving bowls.

5. Scoop out melon with a melon baller. Arrange balls and sliced blackberries in the serving bowls and lightly sprinkle with the pistachio dust.

My mother gave me two choices for Thanksgiving this year, go to Uncle Andre and Aunt Suzy’s house or invite my cousins over who recently moved here from Iran. The lazy part of me was thinking that this year I just don’t feel like cooking, so another year at the Andresian’s would be great, Aunt Suzy’s Thanksgiving dinners are the best. Then it hit me that it would be really cool to cook for my cousins, they just moved here from Iran and they’re probably experiencing some culture shock, so a traditional American holiday is much needed to help smoothen their transition. For the next couple of weeks I scavenged through all my magazines, Saveur, Bon Appetite and Gourmet, searching for the perfect recipes to play with.

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite American holiday, by that time of year the streets are laden with colorful fall leaves and that crisp, winter air that even us Angelino’s can feel, is quietly approaching. This time of year has that special feel to it, I often can’t stop staring at the colors on the trees while I’m driving, I always say to myself that I’ll grab my camera and come back to take a photo as I make a mental note of what streets I’m on. Sometimes the reminder of fall comes when I smell my neighbors fireplaces burning when I get home late at night, or the cornucopia of colors that take over the farmers market.

My family moved to the States from Iran in 1979.  We celebrated Christmas and Easter like most Armenians but Thanksgiving was my first, real taste of an American holiday. As we arrived in Los Angeles, we began our life long journey of having to assimilate into another new culture. When living the Diasporan life it’s a natural reflex to make sure you blend in without losing your identity. For my parents this was in the form of working, buying a house and reconnecting with relatives and friends from back home. My idea of being in America was eating Mc Donald’s, lots of donuts and pizza, and of course going to Disneyland and all the theme parks a little girl can conquer. Things were so much easier back then, it was the late 70s, we were refugees in a country full of promise and I didn’t have a care in the world.

Those first couple of years we had very little family here. I had no first cousins or grandparents yet, just extended relatives and a large circle of friends. Those friends include Andre and Suzy Andresian, who have become our Thanksgiving family for the past 30 years. My father and Andre grew up together in Esfahan, Andre’s wife, Suzy’s, Irish roots and delicious recipes couldn’t have been a better introduction to us of a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

The smell of her Sauerkraut would pinch your nose as soon as you walked into their incredibly gorgeous house. The house is as close to an Italian villa as one can get in Los Angeles. The long hallways would trap the smells from the kitchen that would warm up the cold marble floors. Her turkey always had that perfect moisture on the inside and that crunch from the skin on the outside, she served it with sauerkraut, mash potatoes, a velvety gravy, cranberry sauce and her delicious beans. After dinner we would do the same thing every year. While we waited for dessert the kids would go the TV room and watch the Yogi Bear Christmas Special. Their house was so ginormous to me when I was younger, I would always get lost somehow. Although, I admit sometimes I would get lost on purpose so I could snoop around those huge rooms.

The house is quite magnificent. Recently restored, it’s a villa nestled in the woods of the Rose Bowl. So how can one resist an invitation to eat Thanksgiving dinner in a dining room fit for a museum?  In the past my contribution to her table was a Sweet Potato Pie whose recipe I had discovered a few years back.

So while the beautiful casa and incredible Irish cooking was tempting, this year I wanted to take the opportunity to reconnect with my cousins and use Aunt Suzy’s good cooking as inspiration. I’m not into Turkey whatsoever, it’s such a boring bird, but I couldn’t avoid cooking it, so I added a duck to the menu to show the Turkey what a real bird tastes like. For side dishes I made Provence herbed baby potatoes, almond and garlic sautéed green beans, apple corn bread stuffing, cranberry orange chutney and a delicious vegetarian Shepherds pie whose recipe I found in Gourmet.

Two pies made it to my table this year, I love pies because I’m so drawn to the interconnectedness of circular things. Pies are generous, they hold a lot inside of them like burritos, but I haven’t baked too many in my life. This was my first year cooking a savory pie since culinary school, but this Vegetarian Shepherds Pie recipe was really mouthwatering so I had to indulge.

The second pie was the Sweet Potato Pie whose Marshmallow Meringue and graham cracker crust make it so yummy. This was my third year in a row baking this pie and I’ve tweaked the original recipe. I added ginger snap cookies as well as candied ginger to the crust and vanilla and cardamom to the filling. It has made a pretty good difference to the taste, the ginger gives it a spice while the cardamom adds floral qualities and vanilla makes it nice and vanilla-ee.

The Thanksgiving festivities turned out wonderful. My Shepherds pie was a little more watery than I wanted but overall everything was on point and delicious, especially the duck. During dinner, I raised my glass to make the first toast to my cousins, I went on about how since this was their first Thanksgiving with us in America, I was very pleased to have given them there first taste of Thanksgiving. My cousin Roubina then looked at me, raised her glass, and said in Armenian, “That’s very sweet of you Lucie, but this is our second year in America and our second Thanksgiving.”

The smile on my face turned into an open mouth at which point I looked at my mother with that “how could you not have told me this” look.” For two weeks she had heard me yapping about how nice its gonna be to share this experience with our newcomers. I was a little embarrassed for being so out of touch and naturally they all laughed at me, but it’s okay, what matters is that their arrival has added a few more pieces to our family’s American puzzle.

Sweet Potato Pie with Marshmallow Meringue

Yield: 10 servings

Crust:

3/4 cups graham cracker crumbs (made from about 7 1/2 ounces graham crackers, finely ground in processor)

1/4 cup Ginger Snap cookies (finely ground in processor)

2 – 3 pieces candied ginger (ground in processor)

6 to 7 tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Filling:

3 pounds medium red-skinned sweet potatoes (yams)

1 14 ounce can sweetened condensed milk

2 large eggs

2 tsp fresh lemon juice

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp Nutmeg, Cardamom

1 tsp of vanilla bean or vanilla bean paste (extract as substitute)

1/4 tsp salt

Marshmallow Meringue:

1 7-ounce jar Kraft Jet-Puffed Marshmallow Creme

3 large egg whites

1/8 teaspoon salt

¼ cup of sugar

preparation

For crust: Preheat oven to 350°F. Mix ground graham cracker/ginger cookie crumbs and in a medium bowl. Add 6 tablespoons melted butter and stir until crumbs feel moist when pressed together with fingertips, adding 1-2 tablespoon melted butter if crumb mixture is dry. Press crumb mixture onto bottom and up sides of 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish, building up sides 1/4 inch above rim of dish. Bake crust until set and beginning to brown, about 10 minutes. Cool on rack.

For filling: Preheat oven to 350°F. Pierce sweet potatoes all over with fork; place potatoes on rimmed baking sheet. Bake until potatoes are very tender when pierced with fork, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Cool slightly. Cut potatoes open and scoop out pulp. Transfer pulp to processor and puree until smooth. Set aside 2 cups sweet potato puree for filling; cool completely (reserve any remaining puree for another use).

Preheat oven to 350°F. Combine 2 cups sweet potato puree, sweetened condensed milk, and all remaining ingredients in food processor and blended until smooth. Pour filling into crust. Bake pie until puffed around edges and set in center, about 50 minutes. Transfer pie to rack and cool. Refrigerate pie at least 4 hours or overnight.

For marshmallow meringue: Position rack in top third of oven and preheat to 400°F. Using rubber spatula, scrape marshmallow creme into large bowl. Using electric mixer, beat egg whites and salt in another large bowl until foamy. Add sugar, a little at a time, and beat until stiff and glossy peaks form, this can take a few minutes, make sure egg whites are stiff. Add 1/2 cup beaten egg whites to marshmallow creme and stir with rubber spatula or spoon just until incorporated to lighten (marshmallow creme is very sticky and will be difficult to blend at first, but blending will become easier as remaining whites are folded in). Fold in remaining whites in 2 additions just until incorporated. Spread meringue over top of cold pie, mounding slightly in center and swirling with knife to create peaks.

Bake pie just until peaks and ridges of marshmallow meringue are lightly browned, about 4 minutes. Let stand at room temperature until meringue is cool.