Is It Summer Yet?

I’m looking forward to summer. That is, if summer hasn’t already started. Has it? It’s hard to tell. In my head, the month of May seems like it should still be spring. We’ve had some hot days, and I’ve got a Memorial Day sunburn to prove it. But we’ve also had some cooler days that made May somewhat pleasant - even in a mask. I think we just have to face it: in Mississippi, it’s hard to tell when summer begins. In the good old days (all days prior to 2020) we could say summer started when school let out. But if that’s the case, summer started at spring break this year. Sigh.

Despite what’s been going on, summer brings good things. Tomatoes, for instance. I’ve heard it said that the best tomato sandwich is the first one of the season, made from a sun-warmed tomato out of your own garden. I think I did that once, and the tomato was barely big enough to cover a piece of white bread. But there is definitely something special about that. Meanwhile, since I have given up tomato farming and left it to the experts, I look forward to the first tomato sandwich that my local farmers can provide.

After the sandwich initiates summer, I look forward to the other joys that tomatoes provide. I’m always playing with salsa. Love salsa. Salsa with tortilla chips, salsa on tacos, salsa on my eggs in the morning, salsa scampi, salsa gumbo, salsa etouffee … sorry, my inner Forrest Gump got ahold of me there. I even have a hardback recipe book dedicated entirely to salsa. I hardly ever open it, because I tend to create my own concoctions depending on what I have in the pantry when I also have fresh tomatoes. But it’s there when I need it.

And then there’s Caprese salad. Tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and basil. Usually with a drizzle of olive oil, and often (at least when I make it) a drizzle of the richest, thickest balsamic vinegar I can get my hands on. In another version, I grilled green tomato slices marinated in a brown sugar and balsamic vinegar solution. (There’s more than one way, to make Caprese. That rhymes, by the way, in case your Italian is rusty.)

But tomatoes aren’t the only fruits of summer I’m looking forward to. It’s also time for strawberries, is it not? I’m not sure if they have come to the Community Market yet because I haven’t been up early enough. Surely, though, I will soon have success. Last summer in upstate New York my Maw-in-law had some little strawberries she’d bought from an Amish farmer, and they were incredible. But I’m not going to New York this summer, and I don’t have to. Our Mississippi ones are delish - I’ve just got to find some.

One of The Matriarch’s most famous desserts is pastry strips with strawberries and ice cream, which she learned from her own mother. First of all, it’s hard to beat good vanilla ice cream covered with sliced, slightly sweetened strawberries. But when you put the savory strips of baked pie crust in the bowl, it really kicks things up a notch. Or maybe a slice of The Wife’s 1-2-3-4 cake (think pound cake with a catchy name), or Grandmama’s bishop cake, with a spoonful of the aforementioned sliced and slightly sweetened strawberries atop. And extra juice (created in a partnership between the berry and the sugar) soaked into the cake. For that matter, it’s also hard to beat a bowl of otherwise mediocre cereal and milk that has been sanctified and glorified with a healthy dose of … well, you know.

Later in the summer the blueberries will come and go in a flurry. As I was pondering the blueberry situation in preparation for this rambling, I came to realize how blueberries can transform other foods, especially baked goods. Blueberry muffins were a staple breakfast food growing up. We didn’t have them so often that we tired of them, but with the proper regularity to keep us craving. The Matriarch made them from a box mix, but there was a can of real, tiny blueberries inside - not those artificial blueberry-ish lumps, or something dehydrated. These were the real thing, though I have never seen a blueberry that small at the Community Market. And one of those muffins, sliced and slathered with melted butter, is heaven.

That’s not to say I don’t enjoy a bigger, fancier muffin also. Daughter decided to make blueberry muffins last weekend, but there was no box mix to be had. We’d bought a small container of berries at the grocery, and she took it from there. After a pan of mini-muffins was poured, there was lots more batter, so we ended up with blueberry duffins (muffins made in a donut pan) and a blueberry loaf. With streusel, I might add, which is not a fruit but can also transform and elevate.

I haven’t heard any bad stories about the peach crop this year, so I’m hoping there will be lots of good ones when the season hits. Messy, juice-running-down-your-arm peaches that you have to eat outside or over the sink. Take all my comments about cake above and insert sliced, slightly sweetened peaches. (It’s about being seasonal, y’all.) They are also an anchor ingredient in fruit salsa, which is terrific with cinnamon pita chips, or added to grilled fish tacos. And cobblers. And fried hand pies.

Yeah, I’m looking forward to summer.