Summer

Backyard Farms is a 38-acre greenhouse located in a very small, central Maine town that raises the best tomatoes in New England! I have the good fortune to cater their important board meeting luncheons and dinners. They are all great eaters and a few are real epicureans. I love to dazzle them. My motive is always to show them all the possibilities of the fruit that they work so hard at making perfect. Every course is created around the tomato and sometimes it gets very challenging to top the last meal that I have created for them.

Last spring I wrote tomato tarts for dessert into the menu without having a clear idea how that would happen. I had 5 varieties to work with, all colors and shapes to inspire me. I ‘slept on how I would create this’ every night for two weeks until it was show time. The night before I slowly baked ½ thick slices of all five varieties of tomatoes on buttered parchment paper-250 degrees, slow enough to dehydrate them but not too long that they became leathery. It took 2 hours and I let them sit in a cool room overnight because refrigeration would make the texture change for the worse.

I gathered my French tin tart pans out of the back of my kitchen cabinet, buttered them and preceded to take this dessert from the drawing board of my mind to the dessert table. I imagined that every component of this dessert should be seamless, meaning - not any part would dominate the other. So, I made a pastry crust with homemade tomato paste, finely ground and toasted pine nuts and dried basil. Why, dry basil? It is dried already, stable, not over powering and perfect. I know, a bit too much thinking, but this dessert was going to rock!

For one week, I had an apartment in south Minneapolis. It was listed on a site that offers vacation rentals by owner. Up to this point, I hadn't spent much time exploring south Minneapolis. It turned out I was in for a real treat. Although I had my bike along (my apartment was just 3 blocks from one of the wonderful Minneapolis trails), several dark, cloudy, soggy rainy days prevented me from spending any time on my pedal-powered two-wheeler. As it turned out, that wasn't such a bad thing. By car, I was available to explore neighborhoods I probably wouldn't have gotten to by bike.

My discovery highlights wound up taking on unexpected themes of bakeries and farmers markets. I had planned to take in the downtown St. Paul farmers market, the oldest in Minnesota. It never disappoints with all of the fresh flowers, herbs to take home to plant, fresh vegetables, honey, meats and this time, even fresh-picked strawberries. The next morning, a Sunday, I paid a visit to the Kingfield farmers market, a relatively new but charming small neighborhood market. I'd read that a person could find plenty for breakfast at this market and it was definitely true. A strawberry-rhubarb turnover from Sun Street Breads was devoured before I could even snap a picture. 

This is a dish that is perfect for all of the endless “end-of-school-year” pot luck dinners or for BBQs all summer long: Oven Roasted Potato and Green Bean Salad with Skinny Basil “Pesto.”

Real pesto–which is made with basil and garlic but also loads of oil, nuts and cheese–is delicious…but also very calorie dense. (The Barefoot Contessa’s recipe costs you 430 calories for a 1/2 cup serving.)

But by using more herbs, calorie free lemon juice and Dijon mustard, less cheese and oil and skipping the nuts altogether…this skinny “pesto-ish” dressing has just 120 calories but still packs a flavorful punch and a toothsome texture. And by using an equal amount of green beans (40 calories a cup) as potatoes (140 calories a cup), you can have the sensation of a pesto potato salad with less than half of the calories!

You can’t eat rhubarb without strawberries. Sorry. That’s just the way it is. I don’t make the rules; somebody else does. In fact, June 9th has been designated National Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie Day. Check your office calendar; you might actually have the day off.

Growing up on the East Coast, I remember going over my great aunt Pauline’s, where she grew rhubarb along the side of her house. I also remember eating it raw, and scrunching my face up in satisfaction at its impossibly tart flavor. I loved it as a kid, and I still love it as an adult (but not raw, thanks). Just writing about eating raw rhubarb makes my teeth ache (of course it might just be my new whitening toothpaste).

I also remember carrying home bundles of rhubarb that my mom would transform into mouth-watering desserts, of which my family’s favorite was strawberry-rhubarb pie.