Summer

With my garden laden with cherry tomatoes this year, I've tried to come up with different solutions for using them in recipes besides eating them raw as fast as they ripen. Last year I made cherry tomato salad, but even then the plants were so abundant that I fed my coworkers with tomatoes for weeks upon weeks. This year, my cherry tomatoes are the only ones that haven't been affected by the blight, which has caused havoc on farms in the Northeast. Some farmers have now resorted to burning their crops. Luckily the disease hasn't been so drastic in the small scale. This year I'm keeping all the tomatoes to myself.

For me each raw cherry tomato is a burst of powerful summer flavor, but with a bit of cooking, they are even better. One of the best ways to get the maximum flavor from vegetables is by roasting them. Roasting cherry tomatoes concentrates their flavor so that they taste almost like sun-dried tomatoes. In this recipe, I roast them with the addition of garlic, oil, red pepper flakes, and vinegar. The balsamic vinegar brings out a layer of savory sweetness while the other ingredients create a simple and very tasty sauce. There are no long hours of cooking sauce on the stove top required. Once the pasta and roasted tomatoes are combined, the addition of fresh herbs releases perfumed aromas and pungent flavors. It's truly a very satisfying and quick-to-make pasta dish.

I couldn’t possibly have known that the books I managed to read this summer, in some convoluted way, would all share a common thread: success.

In "The Hidden Staircase" by Carolyn Keene, Nancy Drew, using her wits and intuition, solves the mystery of the old stone mansion successfully.

Splat, from Rob Scotton’s "Splat the Cat", has an anxious but ultimately very successful first day of school.

Don Freeman’s "Corduroy", a department store bear missing a button who yearns to find a home, does.

Stephanie Plum, not surprisingly, figures out in the nick of time who decapitated the celebrity chef in Janet Evanovitch’s "Finger Lickin' Fifteen".

What do potato salad, corn-on-the-cob, watermelon, and bean salad all have in common? They're requisite summer cookout foods.

When I was a kid growing up in Rhode Island, it was usually Italian-style pickled bean salad made with green and yellow wax beans and dark red kidney bean. I always ate so much that I inevitably ended up with pickled gray vinegar lips.

Then sometime in the '90's my mom replaced the Italian bean salad with a rich, sweet baked bean dish made with crispy bacon. It was so sugary good, that one year I ate nearly half of it while I was making it for the cookout. Not a good idea.

When we lived in North Carolina, it was either a mushy green bean salad with diced ham (yech) or a crisp black-eyed pea salad similar to succotash (yum).

Jeff meets a lot of interesting people in his dermatology practice, like Mr. Petroni (not his real name). They hit it off instantly – they're both native New Englanders with Italian names and a fondness for meatball sangwiches. (It also helped that Jeff fixed his rash.)

After one of Mr. Petroni's visits, Jeff discovered a small package wrapped in crinkly green cellophane on his desk. A handwritten note was attached; its shaky inscription read: To a great doctor. Thank you for making my husband feel better. I hope you and your wife enjoy the zucchini bread. Sincerely, Mrs. Petroni.

Jeff was touched that this elderly Italian woman, whom he had never met, would bake him a loaf of bread. As he toasted a slice for breakfast the following morning, he offered me one. I declined; I wasn't that hungry. Jeff ate the bread, murmuring contentedly, licking his index finger periodically to pick up the crumbs that fell on to the plate. "Sue, you gotta try this," he persisted.