Summer

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.

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.

Picked up a pint or quart of cherry tomatoes at the greenmarket? Or harvested some from your garden? You could eat them as they are or make something special. What would you make with them?

The tomato plants in my garden have provided for many relatives, friends, and coworkers. With such a surplus we were giving them away as fast as they were growing. Cherry tomatoes, such little bursts of summer freshness, are great for a light salad, combining other vegetables and herbs from the garden like onion, cucumber, and parsley.

Great for accompanying grilled meats or roast chicken, this recipe for cherry tomato salad is sure to be a highlight of summer’s end. Make it any time of the year too, but it’s most refreshing when made with perfectly ripened tomatoes.

With the warm weather upon us (100 degrees for the past two days at my house) I know I will be attending countless backyard barbeques, pool parties, graduation celebrations and other outdoor events.

What will all these events have in common?

Yucky, mushy salads that have been sitting out and left to glop together in the summer's heat.  It's really disgusting.

That is why, salad on a stick, is so PERFECT for the blazing hot summer afternoons. The salad itself reminds me of the County Fair where everything from Twinkies to Gyros are pierced with a skewer and served to the crowds.  It's really a brilliant concept, food on a stick that is.

These Caprese Salad Kebabs with spinach-basil pesto are the answer to your summery salad woes.