Summer

Do a quick Google search of most hated vegetables, and okra pops up everywhere. I can understand why. Unless you grew up eating okra, it's an intimidating vegetable. Its outward appearance doesn't give you too many clues about how to eat it: Do you cut off the top? Do you eat it raw? How the heck do you cook it?

When you finally conquer your fear and cut into okra, the round, white inner pods release a juice that can be best described as "slimy." For many people, the sliminess factor is enough to completely halt their okra eating experience. That's too bad, because okra has a lot to offer.

In many parts of the world, slender, tapered okra is referred to as "Lady's Fingers," which is a much more charming name. Okra's texture is highly appealing. When cooked properly, it retains a crunchy on-the-outside, creamy on-the-inside quality that is uniquely satisfying. Its flavor is similar to green bell peppers, but earthier. Plus it's easy to cook, versatile, and healthy.

I'm a little bit disappointed.  You see, I have always been told when you live in the country, during the summer season, you must lock your car doors.  Not because someone will steal your car but because they will fill it up with bountiful amounts of zucchini they have grown in their garden.

What?

Well, I've purposely left my car doors open for days and days now and NO ZUCCHINI!  Nothing.  Nada.  Where is it people?

I'm not sure what the problem is, I would treat the zucchini so well.  I would pan-fry it, make zucchini fries, make some desserts...some breads.  I would even share my treats.

So what's the problem...where's my zucchini?!

Well, it could be, a) I don't live far enough out in the country or b) folks on the golf course don't grow zucchini in their backyards.  I'm thinking it's b.  Bummer.

For me there is nothing more refreshing on a hot day than a bowl of cold sour cherry soup. Sour cherries are revered in Hungary, where they are made into pies, strudels, tarts, and soups. Since sour cherries are in season right now, I picked up a quart last week at the Greenmarket specifically to make this soup. Cold soups, mostly savory, are enjoyed throughout Europe in the summertime. Sour cherry soup is technically a sweet soup, but because of its tartness it works well as a first course. I prefer it as a dessert but I just eat it whenever I feel like cooling off. I grew up eating my mom's cherry soup, so for me it's something that I love and I can't imagine my summers without it.

Hungarian cherry soup can also be made from dark sweet cherries, but sour cherries are preferred for their zing. The soup is traditionally made with the pits intact, so that is how I make it here. But if you would rather pit your cherries, that's fine too. I always provide guests with little bowls as spittoons. I think leaving the pits in adds to the fun and enjoyment of eating the soup. No one wants to cook in the summer, but trust me, this soup's ten-minute cooking time is worth the trouble. After having a big bowl of chilled sour cherry soup, you will be singing its praises and adding the recipe to your summer repertoire.

Almond and peach flavors are totally apropos for one another – probably because they’re cousins! Peaches are in the almond family. Just take a gander at a peach pit’s inner pit or the blossoms even – you’ll see the family connection for sure! I won’t bore you with the horticultural nomenclature, Latin naming, bark similarities and inner cambium layers of their trunks: just trust me – they’re related!

My sisters and I had the best extension of siblings with our first cousins growing and still do today! Something about having your own playmates from your own family tree is so fun. Growing up in a small town, we often were mistaken as “oh he’s one of those Brantley kids” or “she’s that Farmer girl isn’t she?” and for the sake of not splitting hairs, we’d just answer “ yes’m or yes sir” accordingly. We’ve always been glad to be the from the same tribe!

The kissin’ cousins in this recipe are the amaretto cookies, almond liqueur and the peaches. They are a household of flavor all to themselves! I can remember my Mema, my great-grandmother, and my Mimi, my grandmother, being the most temperate of ladies – “lips that touch wine shan’t touch mine!” was often exclaimed. Yet, there was always a bottle of almond liqueur, grand manier, sherry or Lydia Pinkum cough syrup somewhere in the pantry or medicine cabinet! I guess they had to say such an expression because they married Baptists. I digress…