Summer

We wait and we wait and we wait and we wait for the tomatoes to ripen. Not just because, like everyone else, we want to eat them. But because we run a farm stand and every visitor to Martha’s Vineyard in August wants tomatoes, right off the vine (and right now!). Finally our Sungolds and Sweet 100s and Black Cherries are ripening by the hundreds so we can sell some and eat some too. (Of course I am eating a lot of droppers and splitters in the morning when we’re harvesting. Soon we’ll have to start feeding the splitters to the “baby” chickens who actually are now almost four months old and just started laying eggs!)

The farm stand customers are even more eager to get a hold of bigger tomatoes. Fortunately, we have lots of Early Girls ripening now, too, but alas they are not nearly as tasty as the beefsteaks and heirlooms that are still green. (The first Cherokee Purples are coloring up.) Still, I’m harvesting as many Early Girls as I can, often two or three times a day since the late morning and early afternoon sun does wonders. But when we run out, there are some disappointed looks on customers’ faces.

In the meantime, since I will roast anything I can get my hands on, I am already making this delicious and easy recipe from The Fresh and Green Table that features roasted cherry tomatoes. Thought I’d pass it on to you in case you are similarly obsessed.

For those of us of a certain age, our first encounter with figs came not in life but in a movie theater when Oliver Reed used a fig, deftly cut open from the bottom, to help Alan Bates appreciate the pleasures of sensuality as he struggled with his attraction to Glenda Jackson in the 1969 classic, “Women in Love.”  Watching Oliver Reed spread open that ripe fig was the height of eroticism to a young boy.

After the movie I rushed out and bought a basket of figs and marveled at their round fullness.  The ones that were ripe had a heaviness that made my juvenile heart race with excitement.  But to my young palate, used to simple fruits like apples and pears, figs were much too strong tasting.

I learned to appreciate figs when I lived in a house with a fig tree. I enjoyed watching the fruit slowly form, first as a small bulb attached to a twig, then bulging into a soft, round shape, expanding into a fullness that invited the touch.

In one of my most pleasurable, early food-moments I watched a fig ripen and picked it just as its nectar collected at the bottom. Bitting into its warm sweetness, I was hooked. My breakfast routine after that required only a cup of black coffee, a piece of dry toast, and a trip to the fig tree.

Since eating fava beans for the first time last year, I've come to love the legume as much as the bean-eating crowd. Italians love their beans and Tuscans in particular are known as mangiafagioli or bean-eaters. Among their favorites are cannelini or white beans and fava beans, which are even more popular in Puglia. Favas, or broad beans as they are also known, are prized in their raw or near-raw state, but they are an unusual bean to shell. Each bean is encased in a slip or skin and grouped together in fuzzy pods. So yes, peeling them and blanching them to remove the extra skin may be a chore, but it's really a labor of love.

Here I take my favorite fava beans and combine them with a very herbaceous salad atop a crusty slice of grilled bread lined with wedges of avocado. Texture, flavor, and aroma are very much at play: creamy avocado, granular favas, crunchy bread, and pungent herbs all enrobed in a tangy dressing. To eat this bruschetta, pick it up like an open-faced sandwich and bite right in. It's a fun and casual summer appetizer that will refresh the palate and stimulate the appetite.

I’m told that coleslaw dates back to the ancient Romans, although it didn’t really kick into gear until mayo was invented in the 18th century. (Can you imagine life before mayo? One more reason to be glad that, in the birth lottery, you got a later century.)

“Cole” comes from the Latin word colis, you will be interested to know. But the Dutch called the salad koolsla,which I find more appealing so I’m stealing from them.

(We also have reason to believe that the Dutch practically invented tulips so they have really got it going on.)

But enough with the history lesson. I like a salad that won’t wilt overnight; you can make Kool Slaw on a Friday and eat it all weekend. Have it with (or inside) a sandwich, pop open a beer, and it’s a kool day.