August is a depressing month. The summer seems like it has just begun, but it’s quickly coming to a halt. And with the inevitable progression of the seasons, it feels as though we must all hurry up and do something. We must work hard at enjoying the summer before it is too late. Children refuse to leave the pool even as their entire bodies shrivel in tepid water, couples linger a little longer during late-night strolls in the park even as they are too tired to pass flirtations, and I purchase every summer fruit that still appears in the supermarket aisle without regard to taste, ripeness, or quality. Why? Well, those glossy red cherries that were so ubiquitous only a few weeks ago are already gone. Not even a bruised stray remains. Squash blossoms came and went in a flash. Those weird vegetables at the farmers' market? Gone. All gone.
So, knowing that I have several long months of apples and giant, rock hard squashes, I buy melons and peaches, corn and tomatoes, and anything being advertised as “fresh,” “juicy” or “summer’s best” with desperate abandon.
Which leads me to my first blog series: last gasp of summer. For the next five weeks before Labor Day, I’ll explore one summertime ingredient and give four recipes featuring that fair-weather friend. Why four? There’s one recipe for each day of my fantasy four-day weekend spent in a cabin somewhere on a lake abutting a mountain near an organic farm that gives me free pies.
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