There are few things that taste more like summer than watermelon. I still see such a vivid picture in my mind of my mother's first homegrown watermelon. She stood so proud, holding the melon by the end of the vine, like it was a prize that she'd won. Deciding whether it made a "thump" or a "thud" would make or break what seemed like the longest wait on earth for a slice of juicy watermelon.
These days, we've had a feast of watermelon with almost every meal - perfectly accommodated by natures rhythm to give something so juicy during this heat. Isn't that amazing? Our needs can always been met by what the soil gives us. I can still feel the sun in my skin long after I come inside and begin to cook dinner, so I look for something to deeply cool me from within.
Like my mother's precious watermelon, my prize grows on our fig tree. Each morning we check on the ripeness of the largest fruits that still hang from the branches. We enjoy the slow harvest that gives just a fig or two a day, the perfect slightly sweet snack.
We live in Boston. To get ourselves through winters that go from November to May, we hold dear dreaming of warm weather. Any restaurant with two feet of sidewalk sets out tables in March. They say it's to be ready for baseball season. This is wishful thinking since there are no home games until well into April. Snow plows don't disappear until May. Still.
It’s just that time of summer when I feel I haven’t had enough BBQ.
It is often the simplest of gestures in life that make for elegant entertaining. With amazing refrigerators and ice machines galore in our homes, the old fashioned method of freezing water in ice trays has almost gone to the wayside.
If there were a contest for worst canned vegetable, chances are good that string beans would be the winner. Or beets, which are equally repugnant.