Every year at about this time, the glut of produce suddenly drops away. The okra is woody, the tomatoes are all but gone, the zucchini are baseball bats, and the watermelons start to lose their
pizazz. The menu looks anemic for a minute. But corn is still good and there
are green tomatoes. They just don't want to ripen reliably anymore and there's too much blight,especially after all the rain from Faye. This is the hardest time of year to cook. It's still hot, but it's time to think about Fall. The evenings cool a little so you take away the cold soups only to be met by a week in the nineties.
But we make do, and as long as you avoid shortcuts for their own sake, you can still cook a fine dinner. There is one more wave of figs, and the green tomatoes will of course be fried. The incorrectly named winter squash are starting to show up and it is nearly time for the second season of artichokes. My pecan tree is
absolutely drooping with nuts. Paul has suggested that we go through old
menus from my early years at Crook's to look for forgotten recipe. Since I can't remember anything this probably the only way they'll ever be seen again. This sounds like fun. On Tuesday the sixteenth I'll be making barbecue sandwiches at
The Center for the Study of the American South to celebrate the screening of
Moving Midway later that night at the Varsity Theatre. The film is by North Carolinian Godfrey Cheshire and is about the task of moving his family's ancestral home back out in the country where it belongs. Please join us.
