Dispatch no. 4: midsummer
summer girl, tomaYto/tomaHto part 1, the new dilly bean, scallop crudo forever
musings
stories and thoughts
in search of the perfect summer tomato
It’s the end of July and for me, because I’m here on the Island, even though we’re technically at mid-summer and even though i’ve been living here since last fall, it feels like summer is just beginning. when it comes to my lifelong relationship with the Vineyard, i’ve always considered myself a “summer girl” (although my husband likes to remind me that technically i’m an “August girl”). our family never came for the whole summer, just the very best part of it, or so it always seemed to me. the golden light, the fleeting feeling of a singular sort of magic that couldn’t possibly last, sun and salt on freckled skin and in tangled always-damp hair, phosphorescence sparking the water during nighttime skinny-dips, the smell of bain de soleil and taste of Orange Crush soda at the beach, sandy canvas sneakers with holes in the toes, only right here did we have that, only during the glorious ephemeral month of August on the Vineyard. not until i was a teenager did i come to the Island and stay with my grandfather at my mom’s childhood summer home on Fuller Street in Edgartown for an entire summer, waitressing in my uniform of black dress, white apron and full body tan (it was the 70s ;-) at The Harbor View Hotel just down the street.
Our trips from Lake Forest to the Vineyard every August were epic adventures for me, the youngest of four, in the back of a roomy Chevy station wagon. my mother was at the wheel with a navy blue bandanna on her head, my oldest sister riding shotgun (as my dad wisely came separately in between work obligations), commandeering the radio and diligently scouring the landscape for ice cream pit stops, while us younger kids read comic books, fought, played cards and tic-tac-toe and begged truck drivers to honk their horns at us on the outdoor seat cushions laid out in the back of the car for us to loll on. of course, this was well before seat belts were a thing.
My mom was on the lookout too, but what she was looking for were farm stands selling tomatoes. she took either the northern route through Canada (Niagara Falls!) or one that took us south where we would pass through or near her hometown of Glendale, Ohio, near the Kentucky border, always traveling the back roads. our annual late July eastward-bound road trips happily coincided with tomato season (nothing like a steaming hot Ohio summer to ripen a tomato), and Ma was at the ready with rolls of paper towels and those miniature cardboard shakers of Morton salt. even as a little kid, nothing tasted better to me than a huge, just harvested and still-warm-from-the-sun beefsteak tomato eaten out of hand, and after the first bite, a sprinkle of salt melting into each drippy mouthful.
let’s be real
and only settle for the real (tomato!) deal
Needless to say, with a taste memory like that, it does not occur to me to eat a tomato outside of tomato season. why even bother? the real deal is so far superior that it is worth waiting for all year long. and like my mother before me, i am always on the lookout when the season rolls around.
This summer is no different and so, with an instagram post by Beetlebung Farm announcing their first crop of 2022 tomatoes, i placed an order and was on my way.
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The first tomatoes and a butterfly leg of lamb in the freezer from Beaverbrook Farm at the Westport Farmers' Market in CT inspired a Greek-ish salad platter brimming with Beetlebung’s tomatoes, cucumbers and romaine, to serve alongside the herb-marinated grilled lamb.
The salad, drizzled generously with Pineapple Collaborative olive oil, tossed with gorgeous flowering dill from Milkweed Farm and fresh oregano from my new little herb garden (thanks Gilberties !), with Mermaid Farm (@mermaidfarmmv) feta for the salad and their strained yogurt for a garlick-y olive oil-laden labneh to drench a whole roasted Morning Glory Farm cauliflower we* (my kids and me*, they are amazing cooks!!) were in midsummer Mediterranean-ish heaven.
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Meanwhile, at another of our epic July family meals here on Chappy we made a heavenly scallop crudo by pairing local sea scallops with sliced green (unripe) tomatoes, jalapenos, scallions and cilantro leaves. we tossed everything with lots
of lime + lemon zests and juices, Maldon sea salt, my favorite pink peppercorns and plenty of olive oil. sublime! we’ve made it again and again, with variations, depending on what we have on hand, but always with those incredibly clean sweet scallops.
DO IT! you’ll be so happy! the easiest most satisfying quick no-cook dish.
NEXT UP and always de rigueur in my book when tomatoes are perfect and plentiful — a riff on my true love (a one-sided love but who’s counting) Suzanne Goin ’s tomato tart — essentially a pissaladiere but topped with a layer of sliced ripe heirloom tomatoes before baking.
(see below for the tart BEFORE and AFTER baking:)
TOMATO TART PISSALADIERE
an exceptionally beautiful + delicious tomato season tart to serve warm or at room temperature as part of a meal or as a meal itself
the recipe/method:
caramelize 4-5 sliced onions with a tablespoon or so of fresh thyme leaves (signature suzanne <3) , first in olive oil over medium high heat until soft, then with an added knob of butter over low heat until dark golden brown.
on a sheet of parchment lining a baking sheet, score a very thin border around the edges of a thawed sheet of frozen all-butter puff pastry, brushing the border with an egg wash (yolk + water).
spread the fully-cooled caramelized onions evenly on the dough up to the inside edge of the border.
arrange 1/4” sliced heirloom tomatoes (all the colors if possible!) in a single layer, halved if necessary, close together on top of the layer of onion.
scatter a little sliced anchovy, some pitted halved or sliced nicoise or kalamata olives, a rinsed and drained tablespoon or so of capers over the tomatoes.
bake in a preheated 400 degree F oven for 15 minutes, then turn the pan and bake at least another 12 minutes, checking that the crust is a deep golden brown. the trick is not to dry the tart out by cooking it too long but also not to allow it to get soggy by undercooking it. the layer of oily onion creates a barrier between the juicy tomatoes and the crust.
(downloadable PDF version of recipe below:)
overheard on a salt marsh
things i’m learning about while designing a new house: induction ranges vs. gas ranges
this is summer and summer is notoriously hot. with all the summers (excuse me, augusts) i have spent on the Vineyard, i know that it’s those golden sunny summer days that make it so heavenly, with the refreshingly brisk and salty sea to take the edge off. but the heat we are experiencing right now feels different — it feels sinister and scary, relentless and dangerous, because it is all of those things. and it is only going to get worse and of course we know why. i think collectively so many of us feel powerless or uninformed or confused or, as in my case, all of the above about what we can or should or absolutely MUST do. some things we might think are important personal practices have in truth almost zero effect on the big picture. we wait — we pray — for a big bold move from those in power to make the big bold changes necessary to slow the planet’s march to (not even being dramatic) oblivion. (this latest surprise news in the The New York Times has me feeling cautiously optimistic that we may be heading in the right direction.)
Either way, we tend to go about our daily lives because, well, because we are human beings, and one thing i am doing in mine is designing a kitchen. nothing too fancy but everything i need and my biggest thrill is that i am hoping to have a kitchen hearth (!!!!!!) to cook in. more on that another time, but suffice it to say that if it actually happens i will be living out my wildest Alice Waters fantasy and i will now be able to use my egg spoon in an actual hearth rather than the firebox of a maple syrup evaporator ;-). one can dream.
Otherwise, i’ve been picturing a sort of heavy-duty industrial range like i had at Dirt Road Farm ,just maybe not with 10 burners (!) this time.
(see my busy former kitchen below):
To imagine that i would not cook over a gas flame is positively UN-imaginable,
BUT it came up in a recent meeting with our associate architect/project manager — would i consider using an induction range instead of a gas one?
My knee jerk response was ABSOLUTELY NOT until it sunk in that that was something i could actually quite easily do that really would make a difference, that is if everyone (or even many of us) made the switch. a friend of mine shared this article on induction vs. gas in The New York Times and, just like that, i am fully convinced! AND feel it would be irresponsible and downright ignorant to choose otherwise. (i would truly love to hear your thoughts on this in the comments section)
to market, to market
the west tisbury farmers’ market that is
people don’t always go to farmers’ markets to buy things produced by farms. some go for lunch, some go for the artisanal crafts, some like the people-watching and the social gathering. i do like ALL of it, and certainly appreciate and participate in all of the above, but first and foremost i am there for the farm goods that i will use in my cooking. when i go to a farmers’ market, i do not stroll in, looking around to see who i might know to catch up with, or wander the rows of prepared food offerings to see what i feel like for lunch. rather i sort of march-stride in (something short of a speed-walk) head down, so as not to engage, except to see where i am going, my mind racing as i beeline to my first stop, already figured out in my head, worried that they’ve sold out of whatever it is i am hoping for.
beetlebung farmers nick doherty (@iamdicknoherty) and kate woods (@a.katewoods) below:
Going to the farmers’ market is not relaxing to me, rather it feels like a kind of competitive sport where all my senses are on hyper-alert. however, once i’ve succeeded or failed to get what i came for, arms aching from hauling the bags of produce etc. needed for my envisioned dishes, i can then exhale, hit my favorite makers and bakers and chefs at the West Tisbury Farmers' Market and all of them, mind you, are “hardcore locavores” like myself.
these favorite NOT FARMS at the WTFM include, in no particular order :
Cinnamon Starship @cinnamonstarship
and i am learning about more all the time!
above: a spread that includes Fantzye Bagels with local schmears + housemade pickles, alongside MV Smokehouse smoked whitefish spread and Morning Glory Farm tomatoes — all from the West Tisbury Farmers’ Market.
always on hand
salt of the earth, salt of the sea
salt matters a LOT, at least to me. i love the stuff, when used judiciously and appropriately. i use a variety of salts, usually 1 of my 3 favorite types, depending on what i’m making or eating.
my favorite all-around salt is Maldon Salt. i love the texture, i love the taste, i love the way it feels when you crush it between your fingers over a dish, i use it all the time when i’m seasoning the food that i’m cooking, when i’m finishing a dish, when i’m eating at the table. i use Maldon Salt every single day.
my “workhorse” salt is kosher salt — i use kosher salt for salting the water i cook vegetables or pasta in, for my pickling projects, for seasoning meat before cooking. i tend to use Morton over Diamond out of habit, but also because i am not using it for delicate seasoning — so the hefty coarser grain works well for me.
i have long been a fan of Himalayan pink salt, introduced to me by a good friend of mine many years ago, and especially appreciated because of its very high mineral content and health benefits. i use this pink salt as an alternative to Maldon, not as frequently but it’s a lovely fine and somewhat more delicate option. and now i have a favorite one — The Salt by Pineapple Collaborative, one that’s hand-harvested by a women-run coop in the Peruvian salt flats
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let’s do this
lacto-fermented dilly beans
i’ve been making dilly beans for a long time, and eating them (greedily!) for longer. one of my favorite canning books, Canning for a New Generation (which you may be able to find used), has the perfect recipe which i tweak by adding more garlic or intensifying the heat with more dried chile or accentuating the “dilly-ness” with fresh flowering dill seed heads or more dill fronds than suggested, as it’s hard to overdo that flavor, in my mind. often i make dilly beans in big batches (with a glut from the garden), pretty much requiring them to be shelf-stable by way of water-bath processing because i would not have room in my fridge for all the jars. needless to say, it’s ideal to have some fresh-off-the vine or the bush in one’s own garden, but it feels victorious to find a big pile of just-harvested green beans at the farmers’ market and even better when the flowering dill is right next to it, just waiting to be introduced to one another for a match made in heaven.
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dilly beans are also insanely good when preserved as a refrigerator pickle — they stay crunchier and greener and are closer to the freshly-picked version of themselves but with a briny bright deliciousness. my downloadable recipe for any kind of fridge pickle is here: