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Grilled Summer Vegetable Salad

God, I love that first sizzle when vegetables hit a hot grill. There's something almost primal about it, isn't there? That sound takes me right back to my grandparents' backyard in North Carolina, where my Papa would grill everything under the sun while Grandma Mary supervised from her lawn chair, sweet tea in hand.

Ingredients
  

  • For the Salad:
  • 2 medium zucchini about 400g – the ones not big enough to use as baseball bats but not so small they're barely worth the effort
  • 2 yellow squash about 400g – grab the ones that feel heavy for their size, they're juicier
  • 2 red bell peppers about 300g – splurge on the organic ones; you can taste the difference, I swear
  • 1 yellow bell pepper about 150g – because we eat with our eyes first, and that pop of yellow makes everything prettier
  • 1 medium red onion about 200g – the kind that makes you ugly-cry while chopping
  • 1 small eggplant about 300g – look for the glossy ones with tight, unwrinkled skin
  • 250 g cherry tomatoes – I grow Sungolds on my balcony and they're like candy when grilled
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil 45ml – the everyday stuff, not your fancy "only for special occasions" bottle
  • 8 g salt – kosher salt please, not that table salt that tastes vaguely of swimming pools
  • 4 g freshly ground black pepper – from an actual pepper grinder not those pre-ground ashes that lost their soul months ago
  • 60 g crumbled feta cheese – the kind packed in brine not those sad, dry pre-crumbled bits
  • 30 g toasted pine nuts – yes they're expensive as hell, but you're worth it
  • 20 g fresh basil leaves – swiped from my neighbor's plant when she's not looking kidding! mostly...
  • For the Dressing:
  • 60 ml extra virgin olive oil – the good stuff you save for when your parents visit
  • 30 ml fresh lemon juice – squeezed minutes before using not from that plastic lemon-shaped bottle of sadness
  • 15 ml white wine vinegar – I use the one my friend brought back from her trip to Italy that I'm secretly rationing
  • 10 g Dijon mustard – smooth not grainy, though either works if you're in a pinch
  • 15 g honey – from the local farmer's market where the beekeeper tells the same jokes every weekend
  • 2 garlic cloves 10g – fresh ones, not those pre-peeled cloves that smell faintly of chlorine
  • 15 g fresh herbs – whatever looks good in my struggling windowsill garden
  • 3 g salt – a good pinch between three fingers
  • 2 g freshly ground black pepper – enough that you can see it speckled throughout the dressing

Equipment

  • Grill (mine's a beat-up Weber I rescued from my neighbor's curb five years ago)
  • A couple of mixing bowls (including that chipped ceramic one I refuse to throw away because it was my mom's)
  • A decent knife (life's too short for dull knives, trust me)
  • Cutting board (mine has battle scars from years of enthusiastic chopping)
  • Tongs (the longer the better—I still have a scorch mark on my forearm from learning this lesson)
  • Whisk (or a fork if you're in my old college apartment where whisks were fancy kitchen tools we didn't own)
  • Measuring spoons and cups (though between us, I eyeball most of this now)
  • Your favorite serving dish (I use my grandmother's platter that only comes out for special occasions, because dammit, grilled vegetables ARE a special occasion)

Method
 

  1. Prepare the Vegetables
  2. Crank that grill up to medium-high. For my temperamental grill, that's when I can count to four with my hand above it before yanking it back.
  3. Slice your zucchini and squash lengthwise. Go for planks about as thick as that paperback you've been meaning to finish all summer.
  4. Attack those bell peppers. I find it therapeutic to rip out the seeds with my bare hands after a particularly frustrating day at work.
  5. Slice the red onion into rings thick enough that they won't sacrifice themselves to the fire gods below your grill grates.
  6. Cut the eggplant into rounds. If they're too thin, they'll disintegrate; too thick and you'll be chewing until Tuesday.
  7. Toss everything except the tomatoes in olive oil, salt, and pepper. Use your hands! Yes, they'll smell like onions later, but that's what soap is for. Make sure every inch gets some love.