Whoops! A milestone came and went this week and I didn’t stop to notice. Wednesday’s panzanella was my 200th post! I’m the sentimental type who likes to use opportunities like this for a little reflection. Indulge me? It is a holiday (Happy 4th!), after all. First, some photos of the recipes I’m proudest to have conquered during the last 100 posts: whole wheat pita (sooo cool; you must try it); jam (so easy; who knew?); profiteroles (to finish off a dinner party for 15; yes, you read right: 15); and bagels (again: sooo cool; you must try it):

Okay, enough about me. On to you and this three-day weekend we’ve all just embarked on. I’m sure many of you already have menus planned for the holiday, but for those of you who don’t, let’s play a little choose your own adventure. It works like this: choose one option from each of the next three sets of photos (mains; sides; sweets), all pulled from the archives of the last 100 posts, and you’ve got yourself a BBQ. BYO fireworks.

First, the main dishes, all carnivorous (for the vegetarians, skip down a category!)—sandwiches (steak & blue cheese; brisket & cheddar; turkey meatball; grilled chicken); fun with beer (beer can chicken; beer boiled chicken brats); and grill love (grilled pizza; bourbon-glazed ribs):

(Click “more” for the rest of the categories.)

Next, the sides. If you are finding yourself in “guest of the BBQ” shoes, rather than “host of the BBQ” shoes, might I suggest one of these summery salads—the standards (potato salad; coleslaw); the new favorites (cuke salad; grilled veggie orzo salad) and the colorful (green & yellow bean salad; roasted vegetable panzanella):

Last, but never, never least, the treats. There’s an emphasis on the creamy & frozen here, for obvious reasons: ice cream sandwiches; fro yo; blondies a la mode; ice cream cake:

Voila! You’ve got yourself a BBQ. Enjoy the long weekend!

One of my greatest regrets of my short blogging career is that I blew through many of my favorite recipes right off the bat—before I learned to snap a decent photo or even really use WordPress. As I’ve mentioned before, patience really isn’t my strong suit. And while I kick myself for squandering quite a few recipes on bad lighting and poor formatting, I regret one recipe more than the rest: our banana bread.

I could write dozens more posts about it—about my continued experimentations with it (I recently cut the sugar in half … and liked it); about how we’ve taken to traveling with it, stashing a loaf deep in one of our suitcases (coughKevin’ssuitcasecough); about how my friend Emily, thanks to the recipe, has now contracted what she calls “a bit of a banana bread problem” that might actually rival my own (to put it briefly: it involves more than one loaf per week; enough said). But noooo, I can’t write about any of this because I already posted on the banana bread way back when.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

So I suppose it’s not all that shocking that I’ve found an end-run: banana-sour cream sorbet. It has all the flavors of banana bread, only colder. It was born out of the sour cream sorbet I adore at one of our favorite neighborhood restaurants. I don’t usually make a habit of trying to emulate the creations of one of Chicago’s best pastry chefs—but if it meant a banana-bread-esque blog post, I was all for it.

I loosely started with a Marcus Samuelsson recipe and improvised as I went along (a glug of bourbon here, another plop of sour cream there)—knowing full well that I was headed for either disaster or delight. Happily, what emerged from the ice cream maker was delight. It was also lightly tangy, comfortingly banana-y, slightly boozy (I told you the bourbon would be back), and flecked with bittersweet chocolate shards. I could’ve eaten it for breakfast the next day, in lieu of my standard slice of (you guessed it!) banana bread, but it was all gone. Sniff.

Banana-Sour Cream Sorbet

1 tablespoon sugar
1 cup water
1/2 tablespoon corn syrup
2 ripe bananas
juice from 1 lemon
1 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon bourbon
pinch salt
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

In a medium saucepan, bring sugar, water and corn syrup to a boil. Let cool.

Meanwhile, puree the bananas in a food processor. Transfer to a medium bowl and add the lemon juice, sour cream, vanilla, bourbon and salt; mix. Add the cooled water/sugar/corn syrup mixture.

Churn in an ice cream maker and freeze until needed.

If you had asked me, right after after I made this panzanella, if there was anything more summery than this colorful salad, I would’ve confidently answered no. After cubing the baguette, quartering the tomatoes, dicing the mozzarella, and julienning the basil; after tossing it all together and letting it relax for a while, so the bread could soften up and the flavors could marry; after testing the balsamic-infused and caper-punctured results, I immediately concluded: this is as summer as it gets.

Since then, though, I keep stumbling upon things that are giving this panzanella a run for its money. The other night for instance, Kevin and I were walking home from dinner, strolling along in a summer-nights-only kind of saunter, purposely ducking down side streets. Halfway through a particularly quaint block—full of old brownstones, low-hanging tree branches and gardens spilling with flowers—we found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a fire fly convention. I gasped when I saw the first one light up and by the time I discovered the swarm of his friends—coyly fading in and out of luminescence—I was downright giddy. We stopped and watched the show for a while and I thought: this is as summer as it gets.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

And then there’s the bundle of wildflowers we got at the farmers’ market on Sunday. I plucked the bunch out of a big white bucket under my favorite flower tent at the market and I couldn’t stop peeking at them all the way home, wrapped in their brown packing paper and fastened with a thick length of rustic twine. They’re now scattered throughout our apartment, in mason jars and pitchers and vases. They look like the world’s tiniest daisies, with lacy, leafy stems, and every time I pass by a bunch of them, I smile and think: this is as summer as it gets.

There have been other moments too: a rickety ice cream truck clambering down the street making its presence sing-song-ily known; a group of firemen sitting on the grass outside the station on Damen, most of them with their feet up, one strumming his guitar; abandoned hopscotch games stretching along several squares of sidewalk, thick stubs of pastel chalk the only evidence of their makers.

And now I’m staring down a three-day holiday weekend and I’ve got big plans for it: barbecues, cooking, a wedding. But what I’m really hoping for is more of these quintessential summer moments. I hope you have some too. To get you started, might I suggest some of this panzanella?

Roasted-Vegetable Panzanella
Adapted from Gourmet

1 large garlic clove
1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 (12-inch) lengths of crusty baguette, cut into 1-inch cubes (12 cups)
3/4 lb cherry tomatoes, halved
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 lb green beans, trimmed and halved crosswise
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons capers (packed in brine), rinsed and drained
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 (15-oz) can cannellini beans or chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1 lb lightly salted fresh mozzarella, cut into 1/3-inch dice
3/4 cup chopped fresh basil

Arrange oven racks in upper and lower thirds of oven and preheat oven to 425°F.

Mince and mash garlic to a paste with a pinch of salt using a large heavy knife, then transfer to a small bowl and add 1/2 cup olive oil in a slow stream, whisking until combined well. Put bread cubes in a large bowl and drizzle with 3 tablespoons garlic oil, tossing to combine, then divide bread between 2 large shallow baking pans, arranging in 1 layer. Toast in oven, stirring once or twice, until golden, 10 to 12 minutes. Leave oven on.

Gently toss tomatoes with 1 tablespoon oil (not garlic oil), 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper in a bowl, then arrange in 1 layer on a large shallow baking pan.*

Toss green beans in same bowl with remaining 2 tablespoons oil and 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1/8 teaspoon pepper, then arrange in 1 layer in another large shallow baking pan. Roast vegetables, switching position of pans halfway through roasting and shaking pans once or twice, until tomatoes are very tender but not falling apart and beans are just tender and browned in spots, 12 to 16 minutes. Cool vegetables in pans until ready to assemble salad.

While vegetables roast, add vinegar to remaining garlic oil along with capers, sugar, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper and whisk to combine well.

Put green beans, tomatoes (along with any pan juices), toasted bread, beans, mozzarella, and basil in a large bowl, then drizzle with dressing and stir to combine well. Let stand 10 to 15 minutes at room temperature to allow flavors to develop, then stir just before serving.

* I didn’t roast the tomatoes because there was no room in the oven, sadly. I’d like to roast them next time, though. That said, the salad was delicious with raw tomatoes and roasted green beans.

As every gal in her 20s or 30s knows, if spring is bridal shower season, summer is bachelorette party season. The season is definitely upon us. Or it’s upon me, at least. As (bad) luck would have it, I was triple booked last Saturday, invited to two bachelorette parties in Chicago and one in Minnesota. I ended up at the party for my friend Brynn (she of the much blogged about engagement party back in January), which was to feature a sail on Lake Michigan and a no-boys-allowed backyard barbecue.

It also included a fair bit of bridal torture, I’m sorry to admit. You see, Brynn is what one might call a “good sport.” She agreed to allow us to surprise her with the plans (something I would surely refuse) and we rewarded her by drumming up a good deal of suspense and sending her a list of things to be sure to bring with her for the big night (which included a four-cup Tupperware container, a stack of singles, a sack of bread crumbs and a pair of shin guards, among other things). Our goal was to throw her off the scent and, needless to say, we had her stumped. She wasn’t sure if we’d be playing a pick-up soccer game in Lincoln Park or feeding ducks at a Humboldt Park lagoon.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

She was excited (and relieved) when we pulled up to the Belmont Harbor, with it’s neat rows of masts puncturing the sky. And I think by the end of the night she had almost forgiven me for the faux packing list (I’d been voted the person who Brynn would be most likely to believe and thus had to be the sender of the aforementioned laundry list). So I was very happy that I had at least made the lady cake. Cheesecake. Mascarpone Cheesecake. With balsamic strawberries. With dessert (and several glasses of wine) behind us, the hatchet was officially buried (I hope).

After a long night of jibbing and tacking (ha! right!), we all tucked into our slices of the cheesecake, which was nestled in a thick graham cracker crust, enriched with the tang of mascarpone, and topped off with a thin layer of sweet, vanilla-spiked sour cream. And the strawberries were crazy good, too. I’ve always kind of crinkled my nose at the thought of strawberries gone savory and, oh my, was I missing out. These strawberries convinced me otherwise. And I think they helped convince Brynn that I really am a good friend who can maybe someday soon be trusted again. Maybe.

Mascarpone Cheesecake
Adapted from Gourmet

For crust:
2 1/3 cups finely-ground graham crackers
1 1/4 sticks (10 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
pinch cinnamon

For filling:
20 ounces cream cheese (2 1/2 eight-ounce packages), softened
8 ounces mascarpone cheese at room temperature (about 1 cup)
3/4 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt

For topping:
1 cup sour cream
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon salt

For the crust:
Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Butter bottom and side of a 9-inch springform pan.

Stir together graham cracker crumbs, butter and cinnamon in a bowl. Pat onto bottom and 1 1/2 inches up side of springform pan (about 1/4 inch thick).

Put pan in a shallow baking pan and bake until golden, about 10 minutes. Cool completely on a rack, about 25 minutes. Leave oven on.

Make filling while crust bakes:
Beat cream cheese, mascarpone, and sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer at medium high speed until fluffy, 3 to 5 minutes.
Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Add vanilla, lemon juice, and salt and mix at low speed until combined. Pour into cooled crust and bake until cake is set and puffed around edge but still trembles slightly when pan is shaken gently, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool slightly in springform pan on rack, about 20 minutes. (Cheesecake will continue to set as it cools.) Leave oven on.

Make topping:
Stir together sour cream, sugar, vanilla, lemon juice, and salt in a small bowl and spoon over cheesecake, spreading gently and evenly, leaving a 1/4-inch border around edge.

Bake cheesecake until topping is set, about 10 minutes.

Run a thin knife around edge to help prevent cracking. Chill, loosely covered, at least 8 hours.

Serve with balsamic strawberries (recipe below).

Balsamic Strawberries
Bon Appetit

3 cups quartered hulled strawberries (about 1 1/2 12-ounce baskets)
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

Mix strawberries, sugar and vinegar in large bowl. Let stand at room temperature until juices form, about 30 minutes.

I really, really hope that I’m getting this to you in time. Please tell me you haven’t planned a Fourth of July menu yet. Or that, if you have, you’re at least open to being persuaded otherwise. Or that you have the sides all picked out and a bevy of desserts all lined up, but you just don’t know what will anchor the feast that will accompany your fireworks gawking, parade going, sun basking and cold beer sipping. Because have I got the recipe for you.

I try to avoid hyperbole on this site because I know you might grow tired of me and soon you’d just roll your eyes, oh-brothering your way on to the next food blog in your reader. So I try to contain myself most of the time, saving up my over-the-top oohs and ahhs for the really, really special recipes.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

So after that rather long-winded introduction, let me put it simply: you must make these ribs. If you think you have a ribs recipe that is stupendous (like I did) or if you think you don’t like ribs, I hate to break it to you, but these are better and yes you do.

And they have introduced me to my new favorite cooking ingredient: bourbon. With it’s sultry, caramel fragrance, it lured me right in (not to mention the very cool red wax cloak of the brand we had on hand; which reminds me: Seth, don’t worry. There’s plenty left for your next visit, so please do come back soon.). It will be returning to recipes on this site very soon.

The bourbon, along with a pantry shelf’s worth of other ingredients—every single one of which I happen to love—make up the glaze, which is complex and sticky and delicious, but it lets the meat shine too. And the meat? Well, it’s treated to a two hour bake in a foil packet flooded with pineapple juice, before it’s quickly grilled off and treated to repeated mops of the bourbon glaze. After all this, the meat slips right off the bones, all succulent, moist shreds, edged with a sweet crunch.

I think a slab or two of these ribs would make a fantastic centerpiece to your Fourth of July barbecue. Or your dinner tonight, for that matter—if you’ve got a few hours (most of them inactive) to spend making dinner. I for one can’t wait to make them again. In fact, between bites, that’s all Kevin and I could discuss: when would we make these next. They are that good. Here’s the proof (Kevin’s plate):

Bourbon-Glazed Baby Back Ribs
Bon Appetit

5 tablespoons honey
1/4 cup bourbon
1 1/2 tablespoons hoisin sauce
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon plum sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons mild-flavored (light) molasses
1 1/2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
3/4 teaspoon hot chili paste (such as sambal oelek)*
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
2 2 1/4- to 2 1/2-pound racks baby back pork ribs
1 cup unsweetened pineapple juice

Whisk first 11 ingredients in small bowl.

Do ahead: Glaze can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Place long sheet of heavy-duty foil on each of 2 large rimmed baking sheets. Sprinkle rib racks on all sides with salt and pepper. Place 1 rib rack on each foil sheet. Fold up sides of each foil sheet around rib rack to form boat-like shape. Pour 1/2 cup pineapple juice over each rib rack. Fold up foil to seal packets. Bake until ribs are tender, about 2 hours.* Remove ribs from foil packets. Transfer to roasting pan; pour any juices from foil over and cool.

Do ahead: Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate.

Prepare barbecue (medium heat). Cut each rib rack in half. Grill until browned, brushing frequently with glaze and turning often, about 10 minutes. Cut racks between bones into ribs.

* The original recipe calls for baking the ribs for 1 hour, but Epicurious commenters suggested 2 hours. I listened.