Summer is upon us. Nothing stirs up memories of summer more than food. Maybe that’s an old-fashioned sentiment. It used to be that summer opened the door for all kinds of delicious fresh fruits and vegetables. Nowadays we have 24-hour 365-day expectations about our food. We expect to get any food any day of the year, all hours of the day and night. And, often we succeed. Growing cycles of fruits and vegetables aren’t really a factor—somebody somewhere in the world can produce what we want when we want it. The global supply chain usually comes through for us. Except when it doesn’t.
But, let’s think for a minute about seasonal foods at their simplest. When I was growing up, summer ushered in a bounty of foods that were unmatched throughout the rest of the year. Fresh produce was at its peak. Barbeque grills were fired up and ready. Portable foods, picnics, and camping meals were prepared. Summer meant a break from the everyday boring meals that we saw day in and day out. Summer meant popsicles and pools, watermelons (read my Watermelon blog here), and s’mores, grilled burgers and corn on the cob. Cast off the regular routines with their mundane vittles. Summer is here!
standing in my diaper salivating?
My grandparents on both sides of my family were avid gardeners. Both of my grandfathers worked highly successful vegetable gardens, harvesting an abundance of produce. My grandparents in South Carolina had 2 large freezers where they would “put-up” the excess vegetables by blanching then freezing them in Tupperware containers. They would pull out containers of vegetables all year long to enjoy the summer harvest. IMHO the vegetables tasted WAY better fresh off the vine than after being thawed and cooked. My parents had a large freezer which was stuffed with Tupperware containers of vegetables from my grandparents’ garden, but many of them sat deeper and deeper under the piles of frozen convenience foods. It was a shame that we didn’t take better advantage of their generosity and eat those vegetables more often. Oh well.
My grandparents in Virginia also gardened, but they did not freeze vegetables. My grandmother “canned” vegetables. That, to me, was a strange term, because she didn’t use cans, she used jars. I thought that she “jarred” vegetables, but I was always corrected. Their house was built on a hill and had a walkout basement. In the basement, there were 2 small rooms, one being the room my dad had lived in when he was an older teenager. The other room, where we kids bunked when we visited, had a “secret” door which led to the root cellar. The root cellar was a dark, damp room with a dirt floor and walls, as if carved out of the side of the hill. Maybe there wasn’t as much dirt as I remember it, but that's ok. The website almanac.com describes a root cellar thus: "Technically, a root cellar is any storage location that uses the natural cooling, insulating, and humidifying properties of the earth. The environment is ideal for storing jars of canned or pickled vegetables." So, there was dirt, definitely dirt.
My grandparents' washer and dryer were housed in the root cellar. And, the rest of the room was lined with many, many shelves. The shelves held glass jars full of canned vegetables and fruits, each marked with a packing date. There seemed to be hundreds of jars. Probably an exaggeration. Nonetheless, It was an incredible sight. I found it crazily mysterious. My Nancy Drew influenced mind knew that there were surprises and clues hidden all throughout this peculiar room, but I never knew where they would lead. I was never able to decipher the significance of it all.
Frozen or canned, my grandparents’ garden vegetables were meant to be enjoyed all year long. But, to me, fresh out of the garden was the best way to eat ‘em. Tomatoes. Are you kidding me? Nothing better than a home-grown tomato. Hands down the best taste and texture you will ever find, picked fresh off the vine. That’s what summer is all about.
Summer is also about peaches fresh from the orchard. Peak peach season is right around July 4th. (I'm from Georgia, I know these things.) For years after Rob & I were married, we celebrated 4th of July with his family at their lake house. Our contribution to the festivities was homemade peach ice cream. We still laugh about the time we had not been able to get peaches, but unexpectedly saw an old farmer sitting on the tailgate of his truck on the side of the road. We pulled off the road when we saw the boxes and baskets of peaches in the bed of his truck. Sitting still like a statue, he muttered, “cum own en.” When we asked “ How much are your peaches?”, I’ll never forget it, he sat on the tailgate chawing on a long piece of straw and moved nary a muscle as he answered, “twelve dahllas uh bawx.” We asked, “can we buy less than that?” He blinked slowly then muttered, “haf uh bawx.” He slowly pulled out a pocketknife, reached for a peach, and without looking, expertly cut a slice. He held it out, and then sliced another. We munched on the peach while we chose a small basket and paid with all the cash that was in our pockets. Without even a flinch, he muttered “thenk yeh.” I have never seen a person move so little. At the lake house, we fired up the ice cream churn and made the creamiest, sweetest, most delicious heaven on earth. Nothing beats homemade peach ice cream.
When my kids were growing up, we went to the beach every summer. They loved, absolutely loved, eating lunch on the beach. As we got suited up to venture out for hours of ocean fun, it was extra work for me, preparing food, and packing up the cooler. But, the effort was always rewarded by the kids’ excitement and appreciation. We ran the course of sandwiches and typical picnic fare. But, their favorite lunch, hilariously, was a Ziploc bags full of salad. They got a real kick out of pouring salad dressing into the bag, shaking everything up, and using the fork to stab at veggies. It was definitely an out-of-the-box meal, and I think that’s what made it so appealing. Sitting under the umbrella, relaxing back in the beach chair, daring the seagulls to come one step closer—beach lunch was always a real hit.
That’s the thing about summer foods. They might not actually taste better (although, like I said, they often do), but the experience around them makes all the difference. Watermelon and peaches and tomatoes that are in season, purchased from the local farmer’s market or grown nearby; you just can’t beat that. They speak of relaxed schedules, no school, vacations, taking a minute to unwind.
I have been more than lucky to have spent most of my life on an academic schedule. I worked for about 10 years in the computer industry in a typical office job. During that time, June was not much different than October. July resembled March, or any other month of the year. There was no big break from the 52 weeks of work. I missed the summers of my youth and felt cheated. When I left that career and fell into the gig of teaching preschool, I breathed a sigh of relief that things were back to how they were meant to be. Summer was summer again. I know that there is NO WAY that I could support my family or even myself with my teaching job, but that’s what makes a marriage a partnership. Rob does the big job and pays for literally everything. I’m the COO (Chief Operating Officer), keeping up with all the operations of the family. My flexibility in summer over the years gave our kids the chance to let summer be summer. Of course, most of them are now working jobs in offices that churn away for 52 weeks a year, so they have lost the carefree days of summer.
But, not me. I haven’t lost the magic of summer. I’m sitting here on the back deck on a Monday morning, listening to the rain, kicking back, wondering when my blueberries will be ready to pick and when I’ll have my first ‘mater sandwich of the season. Mmmmm, sounds so good. I can't wait.