I love stuffed mushrooms. L.o.v.e. But, as I’ve mentioned many times before, Kevin absolutely does not. So, when I come across a new recipe for stuffed mushrooms, I look at it longingly. After a moment of wistfully imagining how delicious they’d be, I sigh and set the recipe aside.

Before Kevin’s parents’ Mother’s Day BBQ last Sunday, to which I was to bring an appetizer, I kept coming back to stuffed mushroom recipes. And the sad little scene I depicted above just kept replaying itself. Until! Until, I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to let a little mushroom aversion get in my way. I decided to pick the most promising of the recipes I’d found and roast and stuff miniature bell peppers rather than mushrooms.

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This is one of those summer recipes that has been burning a hole in my pocket. I’ve been dying to make it and (predictably) I’ve jumped the gun because 60 degrees is so not summer. But I just couldn’t wait. With just one look at its rainbow of produce and festive strands of basil, you can smell the smoky wafts off the grill, feel the warm breeze against your skin and hear the tinkling ice cubes buoyed in your favorite summer cocktail. In other words, even if it’s not yet summer, this salad can help you pretend.

It’s an Ina Garten recipe, but really I consider it my friend Brynn’s recipe because she made it a few years back when she hosted a houseful of our college friends for a Chicago reunion weekend. It was met with rave reviews then (as in, there was an unfortunate episode involving me and Brynn and a few others hovering over the leftovers, forks in hand, after a night on the town—not all that unlike a certain other unfortunate incident I owned up to here). And I’ve been making it ever since.

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So I wasn’t lying about this whole grilling-only thing. And, with this recipe, I’ve even managed to turn Salad Monday into a no-indoor-cooking-necessary event. It was the kind of meal that requires no more than opening the fridge and firing up the grill. I’d like to say it was the kind of meal that signaled summer, but at this point summer cannot merely be signaled. It must be cajoled, urged, exhorted, demanded. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. And I hope this meal did its part.

This meal also dovetailed nicely with the shrimp kick I’ve been on lately. There was this salad, of course. And then there’s last night’s dinner, the glow of which I’m still basking in just a little bit, because it involved a new restaurant, some of the best company around and absolutely perfect, succulent prawns. And we’ll be grilling up some more shrimp on Sunday for a post-graduation BBQ (stay tuned!).

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I mentioned yesterday that the haze of exams (what day is it, again?) has me taking a little leave of absence from the kitchen (and the grocery shopping, and the phone call returning and, oh, the finger nails: those could use some help). But that doesn’t mean we’re not eating. Or even that we’re not eating well. For instance, we had a lovely dinner at one of our favorite neighborhood restaurants over the weekend (asparagus and halibut and morels? I thought I’d died and gone to spring (and examless) heaven). And then we were treated to a delicious Mother’s Day cookout at Kevin’s parents’ house on Sunday night.

And the cooking action right here at home hasn’t ceased altogether, either. It’s just that the hub of the culinary activity has shifted out of the kitchen and up onto our deck and right onto our grill which is typically manned by, um, the man of the house. Lately, if I’m studying around the dinner hour, it’s a safe bet that Kevin is sipping an ice cold 312, surveying the Chicago skyline and grilling up some delicious food.

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I’m in the middle of final exams—one today and my last. one. ever. on Thursday. And I have to admit that during the last week or so, meals as we usually know them have fallen by the wayside. There have been bowls of steamed veggies masquerading as dinner, teacups full of Kashi calling themselves lunch and absurd needs for a bite of mint chip ice cream right this very second. And Kevin has had just about enough of the leftover meatball sandwiches.

Given this set of circumstances, I suppose it’s not shocking that I made this pureed fava bean dip, which is the kind of thing that you can lazily graze on while studying. It’s even worth excavating a clear space on my desk, amid the stacks of books and papers. But given how time consuming (to put it mildly) it is to shell fresh favas, it is a bit surprising that that I’ve made this dip three times in the last 10 days.

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