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.

Moms and grandmas love blueberries. Think about it. Doesn't your family have cherished recipes for blueberry pie and blueberry muffins? What about blueberry cobbler and frosted blueberry sweet rolls?

Why are blueberries so beloved? It could be their association with lazy summer days, Fourth of July cookouts, or time spent baking in grandma's cozy kitchen. Whatever it is, blueberries are sweet and easy-going, like the girl next door.

But like the proverbial librarian who lets down her hair, blueberries can also be sexy. That's right. Sprinkle plump, juicy summertime blueberries on peppery wild arugula or watercress for a stylish salad.

Top crostini with warm goat cheese, fresh blueberries, and rosemary for a sleek summertime appetizer. Add them to a martini made with blueberry vodka for a sophisticated summertime cocktail.

So while they're in season, explore the sexy side of blueberries. Just don't tell grandma. She wouldn't approve.

A friend brought me 32 peaches. She’s growing them in her backyard in Burbank. I didn’t think much of anything was growing in Burbank except the Disney coffers, but there you go.

While I was very grateful to my friend, I struggled a little to figure out what to do with that pile o’ plenty. They were ripe, ready to eat, so the Peach Project had to begin immediately. But peaches are just one item on the very long list of foods my husband will not eat, so whatever I made, I’d have to scarf it down myself, unless I can organize a quick Peach Party. (NOT.)

I wasn’t equipped (or inclined) to make preserves, and the idea of baking a pie always makes me irritable. I could give some to Oliver, but my dog will not eat a peach unless you can disguise it as a hot dog.

I finally decided to invent a peach salad, with excellent results, which I am sharing with you here. That took care of two peaches. I will get back to you with what became of the other 30.

Plums are such a special fruit with so many uses. For me their flavor is most unique: they are sweet near the skin but tart by the pit. The color too is deeper toward the skin and paler near the pit. All stone fruits are spectacular, in my opinion, but I adore plums for this uniqueness. I love eating plums when they're so ripe that their juices squirt right out when you bite into them and run down your arm. That's when I find myself eating them over the kitchen sink. Often when I buy plums in bulk, instead of waiting for them to fully ripen, I usually end up making jam or baking them into pastries, pies, and tarts.

Late summer always rewards us with beautiful Italian prune plums, recognizable for their egg shape, dark and bluish exterior, and green to yellow interior. They are typically available from August until September and can be found widely in the States, but more so in Europe. Often they are dried to make prunes, but more famously are made into the eastern European liquor slivovitz. Plums have always been a favorite in my family. Many Hungarian recipes make use of them: one dish in particular is gomboc, which are plums encased in potato dumplings, and rolled in a cinnamon-breadcrumb mixture. I like them, but I love plums much more in pastries like this crostata.