Zucchini

This is a generously proportioned version of the delicious rice-and-zucchini crostata, or tart, that my cousin Lidia prepared when our family first visited Genova, nearly fifty years ago. She made hers in a small baking pan, and mine is the same, only bigger! I use a half-sheet baking pan (a jelly-roll pan will work, too) lined with the olive-oil-based dough that has no leavening, is easy to make, and fantastic to roll. The large size of this crostata is necessary, I find, because the crostata disappears right away. Whether I put it on a buffet in bite-sized party pieces, bring it to a picnic, or serve it as a plated appetizer or main course with salad, everyone loves it—and has to have another piece. And in the unlikely event you do have leftovers, they can be frozen and reheated—just as good as when freshly baked. The procedure is straightforward and quick, though there’s one important (and interesting) step you must leave time for: steeping the uncooked rice with the shredded zucchini. Since squash is a watery vegetable and rice is dry and starchy, this steeping allows the rice to extract most of the vegetal water from the zucchini. In this way, the grain is softened enough to cook during the baking time, and without absorbing all the liquid from the ricotta and milk. The result is a moist, creamy, and flavorful filling.

This vegetarian take on a traditional Mexican red pozole—pozole being the name not only of a type of stew, often made with pork, but also of the large dried corn kernels (hominy) integral to the mixture—is rich and satisfying. The accompaniments are an essential and fun part of the dish, adding some fresh crunch to the toothsome bite of hominy, beans, and vegetables. It's the perfect meal to have waiting on the back of the stove for family and friends as they straggle in from near and far for a holiday weekend.

Highway 84 runs from Santa Fe to Colorado. About forty minutes north of Santa Fe, the highway cuts a paved path through Ohkay Owingeh, a Native American reservation, and the roadside becomes dense with fast-food outlets, outposts of national grocery chains, Walmart, and billboards for Ohkay Casino, Hutch and Norma Naranjo's sprawling midcentury home is set about fifty years back from the road, a shrine to the tug-of-war between new ways and traditional ones. In the backyward Mr. Naranjo built two hornos (behive-shaped adobe ovens). Inside the house, a handmade wreath of dried chiles hangs on one wall and a string of made-for-tourists ceramic peppers on another. A naïve painting of St. Francis hangs not far from a cluster of the dream catchers that the couple and their two grown children fashion from string, feathers, and yarn, just as their Pueblo ancestors did. "We go to church one Sunday and dance the traditional dances the next," said Mrs. Naranjo. A retired social worker, she gives cooking classes and does a little catering. But she spends most of her mornings working the two-acre minifarm where she grows vegetables from seeds that have been passed from one Pueblo generation to another for at least a thousand years. "The history of our people is in those seeds," she says. In the evenings, when her husband builds hornos on the terraces of hotels and McMansions, Mrs. Naranjo visits the elderly women in Ohkay Owingeh, who remember life and cooking when it was closer to the land, and collects their recipes and food stories. "Our history lives in our hands as well," she says. Mrs. Naranjo moves with the efficiency of a modern professional as she smooths cornmeal paste on damp cornhusks. Tiny white kernels from several ears of heirloom corn, and diced green chiles and squash, along with a thick, bloodred chile sauce and shredded fresh cheese, are lined up in small stainless-steel bowls at the head of her tamale assembly line. She notes that tamales were stuffed with rabbit, venison, pork—whatever people had. Vegetable tamales were a fine way to make use of the gardens' overflowing crops. She swathes the dough, sprinkles filling, folds, ties, and places the tamale bundles on a rack set over water in a big enameled pot. From time to time, she glances out the window to the backyard, where her husband is feeding small, dry sticks into this new four-by-four horno. Her smaller tamales are, she says, her only concession to modernity: "People love the little ones as snacks, and Hutch and I love them in these green chile stews we make in the horno."

Condiments deliver flavor but often a lot of calories. A light yogurt sauce supplies healthy zip.

SHERYL: The first time Wyatt had one of Chuck's zucchini muffins it was as if he'd died and gone to muffin heaven. I was thrilled, of course, because I knew he was actually eating zucchini without the fuss factor. Now, the first thing out of his mouth every morning is, "I want a keenie muffin!" Being the creature of habit that he is, I believe he would start every day with one of Chuck's muffins, and the nice thing about it is that Mommy can make them, too!

All sorts of neglected or leftover vegetable bits can be transformed into these lovely, lacy-crisp, colorful tempura pancakes.

These large yellow blossoms are the flowers that form on the fruit of the zucchini plant. They have a beautiful color, a delicate texture and a slight peppery taste. Filled with a creamy mixture of sweet crabmeat, they are steamed and then dressed with a creamy mustard butter sauce.

My friend and fellow food writer Angela Knipple cherishes memories of childhood visits to her Great-Uncle Curtis and Great-Aunt Marian's big farm. Perhaps her passion for food, cooking, and sustainable agriculture took root during her summer days in their enormous garden. She loved weeding and harvesting vegetables, and turning her fingers a fabulous shade of purple while picking purple-hull peas. Meals were major delights of homegrown, homecooked goodness, including this beautiful summer squash pie—deliciously creamy, sweet, and a little bit tart. You could use yellow squash instead of zucchini, or do a combination of the two.

Crudités and dip are party staples. Choose whatever seasonal veggies you like, but mix up the colors. Some veggies, such as carrots and peppers, can be served raw, while others, like zucchini and asparagus, should be blanched but still have a slight crunch. There's nothing sexy about a limp piece of asparagus! And keep the vegetables separate—it makes it easier to refill the platters.

For the pesto mixture, executive food editor Kemp M. Minifie switches from pine nuts to pumpkin seeds or sunflower seeds, and she incorporates flat-leaf parsley in with the basil. To top it all off she adds homemade bread crumbs. It's not quite Italian anymore, but it works.

Fried zucchini is a classic snack, but watch what happens when it's amped up with smoky bacon and spicy jalapeño. The fragrant, floral basil dipping sauce is a terrific complement to the tender, light zucchini bites, filling your mouth with the scent of summer. (Editors' note: This recipe is solely the creation of Andrea Albin and has not been formally tested by the test kitchen.)

Chilaquiles is a classic Southwestern casserole made from crumbled tortillas, tomato sauce, and cheese. Here, its savory flavors are augmented with black beans and zucchini.

This dish is particularly delicious in summer, when zucchini, peppers, and summer squash are farm-fresh. You can also pile the grilled vegetables onto crusty French bread that's been slathered in creamy chevre. Or make hors d'oeuvres by topping Crostini with slices of grilled vegetable and some crumbled chevre. The vegetables can be grilled up to 1 hour in advance; assemble just before serving.

This is probably the most requested dish at my restaurant, davidburke & donatella. You can, of course, adjust the heat in this dish to your own palate. I really like it to have a powerful note. It is another terrific dish for entertaining as the rice, basil, and tomatoes can all be made in advance. The rice can be kept warm over hot water or it can be reheated in a microwave. The lobster can be cut up in advance, and then all that is left to do is to put it all together, which should take no more than twenty minutes.

As a child, food editor Gina Marie Miraglia Eriquez regularly enjoyed the hearty stew that her grandmother Mary Pacella prepared as a way to use up surplus produce from the garden. Today, however, Miraglia Eriquez makes it as often as she can during the summer and early fall, using garden produce at its peak.

Summer's bounty gets even better when it's combined in a fresh-tasting pasta.

Smoky grilled vegetables—not a cloying amount of meat or cheese—rule here. Instead of embellishing the enchiladas with a complex (and time-consuming) Mexican pipián (pumpkin-seed sauce), cook a few customary pipián ingredients and then purée them with cilantro for an easy enchilada that's herbaceous and fresh.