Summer

Brisket is such a versatile meat. I like it best, slow cooked. I make it in the winter time, slow roasted with red wine, orange marmalade, orange zest, garlic and dried herbs. Yet, in the summer and fall months I like to make it BBQ style and serve it on delicious french bread with a side of Asian Cole Slaw.

The recipe calls for jarred BBQ sauce. Yet over the past few years I have really become even more conscious of what I am feeding my family. I have never bought a jarred salad dressing (even in college). Two reasons why: 1) they taste lousy and 2) there are way too many things in the ingredients list that I can’t pronounce.

And if I can’t pronounce it, I am not going to eat it. I have come to the conclusion that BBQ sauce is no different. I have decided to make my own. I make a big batch of it and use it for grilling, marinating, roasting and my kids like to dip their oven baked chicken nuggets in it.

The summer that sprang to mind when I first thought about what I read is not this summer at all but one from a number of years ago and it isn’t about something I read exactly but something that my friend Jamie read to me.

It was a brutally hot August day and we were floating in her pool, each of us in one of those brilliant floating chaise lounges with the built-in cup holder or in this case, built-in glass of iced tea holder. I am almost positive that Jamie was one of the very first people I knew to have a floating chaise lounge with the built-in cup holder and in fact she had two; one of which I was in, the other occupied by her.  I know for a fact that there was a very fragrant, perfect sprig of fresh mint in my iced tea glass which I can promise you she grew in her garden.

I was drifting, my head resting on the floating chaise’s pillow, my eyes closed, letting the chair take me wherever it wanted.   Every once in a while, I’d bump gently into the side of the pool, and using my hands as paddles, I’d turn myself around, never once opening my eyes.  The relentless sun and heat had made me feel positively light-headed and the water washing across my legs as Jamie floated past me, her chaise leaving a small but cooling wake, was the only relief.  I was somewhere between conscious and not when suddenly I heard a loud shriek.  “Oh my God!”

To some, May means the Kentucky Derby. To others, the start of the summer growing season. To many backyard chefs, May is the start of barbecue.

Barbecue used to be a very regional thing. One area might mean pork while another means beef. Some barbecue chefs prefer to smoke, some to grill, and some to braise.

There are passionate arguments about dry (a spice rub) vs. wet (cooking with the sauce), and even the ingredients in a sauce, whether the meat is cooked in it or not.

I like to barbecue, and I don’t like to get drawn in to one technique over another. No matter the method, barbecue is just good food. 

I’ve made a tasty POM pomegranate juice barbecue sauce for pork baby back ribs. The sweet spice of the sauce is a nice balance to the salty, tender rib meat.

This quick and easy dinner was inspired by Aida Mollenkamp‘s Chile Basil Coconut Ceviche. Black Cod arrived from the fish CSA this week, I just bought a can of coconut cream and I was awash in fresh lime juice.

It was, as they say, beshert, meant to be. It never occurred to me to combine coconut milk/cream with lime juice to “cook” the fish. Black Cod is so luscious that I normally wouldn’t use it in ceviche but somehow the idea of combining like with like (rich fish and rich coconut cream) seemed like a good idea.

I looked in the fridge to see what I had that would appeal in the same way Aida’s mixture of mango with coconut appeals. I had a luscious Weiser Ogen melon. Score!