Summer

If you've ever had a meringue, then you know how ethereal it can be. But combine it with cream and ripe strawberries and you have an exquisite dessert. Eton Mess takes these ingredients and jumbles them together in a mess, hence the name. The dessert hails from England's famous Eton College. As the story goes, it was either created by cheeky boys who mixed all their desserts together—and one day it happened to be strawberries, cream, and meringue—or it was invented by a crafty shopkeeper at the local food shop. However the dessert was founded, I'm glad it was invented in the first place.

I'm a big sucker for desserts with whipped cream and I'm a big fan of British desserts like trifle, so Eton Mess is easy for me to adore. The traditional way of making this "mess" is to mix all the ingredients together, but I like to layer the dessert so you can see the berries through the glass. I also tend to use more cream than other recipes specify, making this a very plush dessert. There's nothing like billowy clouds of cream enveloping crunchy cookie bits and sweet, mushy berries in this easiest and most pleasing of desserts.

I'm from the South. I grew up and went to college in Tennessee, and worked for many years in Atlanta.  But I never felt like I was home until I moved to New York City.   The city fit my disposition and overall world-view nicely, not to mention the comfort that comes from living in a Blue state. So, it takes a lot for me to find a desire to go back below the Mason-Dixon.  Still, every Memorial Day weekend I return to kick off the summer. Why?  Why do I go back for five days of nonstop comments about the liberal media, the constitutional wrongs of the “war of northern aggression” and the amazing wonders of the NRA?

Believe it or not, I go to Tennessee to camp with my uncle, Tony, and his gun-toting friends from college.  Though debated every year, the general consensus is that the tradition began in 1992 shortly after Tony and his friends graduated from college.  They chose to go out behind my grandparent’s property to a bluff by a lake. Back then the menu for the entire weekend consisted of the fish they could catch, and cook over an open fire.  Occasionally a pizza would find its way back courtesy of the occasional visitor not interested in spending the night outside.  But the overall spread was limited.

I'm still thinking about the smell of the sweet Virginia hay - wishing there was a way to bottle that scent. We couldn't bring the hay home, but we did bring other treasures back to remind us of our trip: honey, old frames and fruit from various farmers markets.

On the drive home, the dark red plums were on my mind while they sat on the console of the car. Each time I glanced at them, I could almost taste them.

They were tart...so very sharp in that first bite and the bright red inside had a sweetness that was intensely satisfying - a perfect compromise to the sour skin.

We came home to rain and knee high grass and with too many things I needed to do to count. Yet again, those plums called to me.

Dane held them in her hands. I could see it was their size that excited her, as if they were grown just for her small inquisitive hands.

She played and I rolled dough beside her - a perfect way to be home.

I had two ideas for salads pop into my mind because it’s summer and I cannot be bothered with cooking just right now. I mean I can’t be bothered with Summer Main Dish cooking: ribs, burgers, whole chickens, you know what I mean. I’m happy just eating bowls of side salads right about now. Less time in the kitchen, you know. Something about being busy. And these salads are more ideas than anything else, really.

First, I roasted sliced grapes with a little olive oil until soft, then I sprinkled a bit of feta on top. Ok, two things (plus oil) don’t really make a proper recipe, but then again, it’s super fast and easy. And it tastes like perfect roasted fruit, plums even, and while I probably couldn’t eat an entire bowl of this, it’s marvelous once it’s on a plate with anything smoky/garlicky/sticky/salty. Oh man, it really is. It’s the perfect compliment to probably any grilled meat you might be cooking. That makes me happy. Plus I love feta. You could add more to it, really.