Summer

My tomato plants are at peak production.  I have so many ripe fruit. We are eating tomatoes at every meal and enjoying fabulous sandwiches. Last night we enjoyed Bruschetta, and the diced-tomato-with-olive oil-herbs-garlic-and-salt topped toasts are a great way to consume several ounces of tomato per person.

Speaking of ounces, we grew a Yellow Brandywine that tipped the scale at just over 2 pounds! (Regard the photographic evidence!)

But not all tomatoes are the big beauties, ready to be sliced, admired and devoured on a platter with a little sea salt and sprinkling of chopped basil. No, we have prolific plants that produce small fruit—just larger than a golf ball. These tomatoes are, dare I say, almost annoying in their abundance. What do you do with them?

I make an incredibly easy tomato sauce that is great as a pizza or pasta sauce. I am too busy to fuss too much with the tomatoes. I neither peel nor seed the little buggers. I just cut out the little cores and throw them into a pot with garlic and olive oil and basil, simmer it until thickened, and then puree in a blender.

I’m not sure why I love throwing summer garden parties so much. It may be because I like to cook barefoot, or because using china and silver in the yard seems both reckless and retro…It may even be because I still love Ricky Nelson’s 1972 “Garden Party” song…even though it’s not about a real garden at all. But the biggest reason is probably because, for a cook, garden parties are the easiest to throw.

Cold dishes like Almost Orzo are welcome on warm summer nights… And grilled vegetable dishes are fine hanging around for a couple of hours without being chilled or re-heated… Even some meat dishes can sit for a bit before being served.

Which means you can make almost everything ahead, set out a bountiful spread on the buffet table as the guests arrive, and then enjoy the party, rather than work it.

It's rhubarb season. Or is it?

When I was a kid, rhubarb season was usually a couple of months long. You didn't have to buy it at the market because half of your neighbors grew it in their yards. I remember going to my great aunt's house where those crimson stalks stood at attention along the side of her house. I'd rip one right of the ground and bite into it like it was a carrot. I'd do it till my eyes watered, my lips went numb, and my belly turned sour. Ah, those were good days.

Nowadays, I have to rush to get my rhubarb fix. And rhubarb should not be rushed.

Since my belly isn't as steely as it used to be, I forego raw rhubarb for stewed, sweetened dishes like crumbles, crisps, and compotes. I have made many rhubarb compotes, but this one is special. The rhubarb is tempered by sugar and enhanced by freshly squeezed orange juice, aromatic ginger, and sweet blueberries.

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.