So, I know this recipe is a little weird—I have hesitated writing about it for years.

It is a standard in my kitchen, though, the ingredients are usually easy to find, and, going into the weekend, perhaps musings on what a tuna roll might be as a noodle dish will amuse you the way it delights me.

Tuna Roll Noodles For 2 (make extra)

Ingredients: box soba noodles, 2 baby bok choy, ripe avocado, jar excellent tuna, sheet of nori, 1 tbsp oil

Boil half a box of soba noodles in water (~4 min). Drain and rinse the noodles (yes, rinse the noodles).

Meanwhile, take two baby bok choy (or pak choy, my newest favorite) or long-stemmed green of your choice and chop coarsely [take the whole choys, rinse, cut into pieces (about an inch long, leaves and stems)] and toss into medium-hot pan with a tablespoon of oil. Stir occasionally as the noodles cook in the other pan.

Open a 5-6 oz. jar of beautiful tuna in olive oil (buy the good stuff). Mince/smush one clove of garlic.

Add the rinsed noodles to the greens, stir, add the tuna and its oil, flaking it in the pan (it will disappear into the noodles). Add the garlic. Stir.

Ladle into bowls (this also works with a miso broth pooling around the noodles, as a variation) and sprinkle avocado pieces (score the halved avocado with a knife in a crosshatch pattern, then press out of skin) over the top.

I add snipped slivers of nori at the end—try waving the nori sheet, just for a moment, over the burner flame. Or use your favorite kitchen tool and mine, a blow torch, to toast the sheet.

Without going into the details, this dish will return your love. It’s made of foods that make you happy and keep you well.

I am going to give you one of my secret recipes. This is a quick, humble soup ideal for transitioning seasons. It comes together in ten minutes and will serve you well.

Also, as you may not know, I despise soup recipes that call for chicken stock or broth. You can do better. Water is your friend.

kthread’s Secret Sorrel Soup (to stave off a cold)

Makes two servings. Look for sorrel at your local farmers’ markets.

1. Mince two large cloves of garlic. Smush them into paste and let sit on cutting board while you finish prep (this brings out their goodness—no, I’m not making that up).

2. Wash half a head of escarole (or baby kale), dry, chop coarsely (don’t use the tough bottom ribs). Then, pull out half a cup of cooked beans*, a good handful of washed sorrel, a little shredded cooked chicken (if available and you eat chicken), and a small piece of Parmesan rind.

3. Put heat on medium and add 1 tbsp olive oil to the pan, add garlic paste and let sizzle thirty seconds. Add chopped escarole and let wilt 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Tear in sorrel in two-inch pieces, throw in shredded chicken, beans, and Parm rind. Season. Add 3 cups water and turn heat to high. Cover.

4. Let soup bubble for 5 minutes (uncover as necessary so it doesn’t boil over) and turn off heat. Ladle into two bowls, grate a bit of fresh Parmesan on top, and serve with bread to soak up the beautiful broth you’ve made.

Keeps wonderfully for up to a week. My vegan friends might substitute nutritional yeast for the Parmesan.

*Cannellini, black-eyed peas, and yellow-eyed peas work well. I like to cook dry beans and keep them chilled for recipes like this. I also like to roast a chicken some Sunday nights.

Your favorite foods to transition seasons?

Although I threw a fried green tomato party lately, the post was without fried green tomatoes—mostly because we were all having too much fun by that point, and partly because it was actually my talented friend Dan who worked the pan on the party greens while I circulated with bottles of champagne.

And so this past Friday, I took a last green tomato, sliced it, and fried slices coated in a mix of flour and cornmeal in the renderings of country bacon,

piling them into a favorite sandwich of drizzled buttermilk ranch (homemade aioli, buttermilk, scallions, lemon juice) on top of crisp butter lettuce, squash blossoms, and Broadbent’s Kentucky bacon.

Then yesterday, Dan and I set out on an adventure to the fi:af Farm City Fair at the Invisible Dog Gallery in Brooklyn.

We found fun buttons,

one that later Dan decorated his bag with,

and we were just in time to experience the Asphalt Orchestra (part of Bang on a Can) performance where the musicians really interacted with the crowd,

spreading out, reforming, using megaphones, spinning around themselves when the moment moved them to the great joy of everyone there for the festivities.

There were hydroponics on display from the Boswyck group in Bushwick,

and the scene was really around the distributor of balloons,

as you might imagine.

Wonderful local food vendors were serving foods about to disappear with the end of summer, and Marlow and Sons delivered with a beautiful fried corn that shone with butter, perfectly warmed pear tomatoes, and mint.

Dan and I were also there to learn about wheatgrass artistry from Mathilde Roussel-Giraudy—this piece is a stomach,

and these figures took a week to grow (you are to be impressed at this).

Out in the garden there was a colorful compost pile,

and inside were demonstrations, my favorite being the one from BK Honey,

where combs were sliced and the honey extracted, sparkling as it was released from its cells.

As we left, Dan and I met a vocal “expert” composter with impressive newsprint millinery,

and had a lovely long walk back past painted murals (Dan took this one of me),

robots that we couldn’t help falling for (and I adore Dan, by the way, we had such fun),

and after I hugged him goodbye, the rain started to fall in the neighborhood.

I decided to make gazpacho andaluz,

while I roasted new potatoes and a chicken.

As usual, I think the simplest recipe best, so to make gazpacho andaluz for two on a rainy Sunday afternoon at the end of tomato season,

take four large ripe tomatoes (for this, choose classic red tomatoes grown with care instead of heirlooms). Chop one tomato with the skin and set aside in a bowl.

With the food processor running, drop in two cloves of skinned garlic, then three spring onions (green and white parts), then the three quartered, cored tomatoes. Let one slice of pullman loaf soak up the juice on the cutting board from the tomatoes and then add it to the processor. Add 1 tbsp good sherry vinegar and 4 tbsp olive oil as it spins. Season and spice it as you like; many serve chopped peppers and onions as condiments alongside.

If you have time, chill the soup (you might set the serving bowls over ice for a few minutes), then ladle it into bowls, topping with the chopped tomato and any garnishes. I’m happy to report my taster enjoyed his without garnishes and ate part of my bowl too.

For more on the City Farm Fair, please watch Dan’s excellent and hilarious video and read his Renegade Kitchen post about our magical day:

Farm City Fair from Renegade Kitchen on Vimeo.

As summer gives way to autumn, the foods transition too—lately, I’ve roasted portobellos with tomatoes and cauliflower, adding grainy mustard and arugula to the toasted brioche bun (now that we’re more likely to turn the oven on).

And this recipe for a grape cake finds use for the Concord grapes now at the Grand Army Plaza and Union Square greenmarkets, also yielding a grape syrup I find lovely for stirring into a glass of cava.

For a little party on Sunday that celebrated fried green tomatoes, I also made a peach pie, filling the crust with spiced yellow peaches,

making pimento cheese (a classic sandwich spread in the U.S. South),

and an hour later, pulled a bubbling pie out of the oven, proudly smiling at the lattice crust that Kevin helped fold (seems art school prepares you for working with all sorts of textiles).

On Labor Day, we all walked through costumed marchers in the West Indian Day Parade as it dispersed around Grand Army Plaza,

feeling a bit like the bright figures might be apocalyptic messengers or heralds that belong atop Grand Army’s triumphant arch,

and Kevin and Nora trailed behind, talking,

as Elle dragged Baratunde ahead of the group,

until Baratunde considered starting a relationship with Nora’s purse.

Almost at our destination: Sweet Revenge, for a holiday pig roast, Kenyatta convened us on a stoop.

Tricia introduced us all to the gracious Ricardo, who owns Pilar (the nearby Cuban “eatery”) with his wife, and who was in charge of the pigs being roasted.

Kevin’s friend Michael was the hand model for these empanadas with chorizo and potato that we ate while counting the hours,

as Tricia and Baratunde danced in the sand,

(and Tricia danced joyously throughout, really,)

interrupted only by the tending of the coals and finally, the delicious meat was portioned out and served in a wonderful swirl of people and Mojitos and toasts to a memorable summer behind us.

Still not quite ready to let it go, a warm afternoon yesterday led me to celebrate the coming cooler days with the crispy crust of homemade fried chicken and think about all the recipes ahead…

Sunday morning began with my sister Kassandra waking early and a trip to the grocer near my apartment for a few brunch things—some housemade sun-dried tomatoes to go with fresh pear tomatoes, arugula, and buffalo mozzarella (that’s the white) on top of a frittata,

and sugar plums from Red Jacket Orchards that exude a glossy syrup when roasted.

Catching up with my friend Solana over brunch (I’m happy she’s back in Brooklyn) filled my kitchen with laughter, and then she was off into her day, followed by Kassandra, who I see all too infrequently, leaving to drive to Philadelphia for her flight (she was in NJ this week setting a choreography and spontaneously rented a car to drive up for the weekend).

In the quiet kitchen, I turned to making a goat cheese cake for Tricia and Kenyatta‘s afternoon picnic, letting it cool by the open window,

before slicing figs across the top and drizzling it with honey from Brooklyn bees.

Arriving at Fort Greene Park, I found a sprawling group of artists, librarians, researchers, and videographers, everyone new to me and—unsurprisingly for friends of Tricia and Kenyatta—fascinating and creative.

The gracious Tricia poured me a mimosa and smiled with Kenyatta, who was in the center of the group, as I found an unoccupied patch of blanket.

The cake went quickly,

with the beautiful Elle waiting patiently, entranced by squirrels, before neatly nabbing the last slice,

and all too soon, it was time to fold the blankets—like Audrey, I wondered why summer Sundays ever have to end—

but then again, how nice it was to have spent the afternoon reveling with this crew…

More fun images and video in Tricia’s Flickr set—