The calendar says it’s summer: it will not be fall until the autumnal equinox in the third week of September. The local trees begin to turn anyway: they do not care that officially fall is almost a month away.
The weather changes constantly. Saturday morning there was a drizzle. Saturday night a thunderstorm and .05 to .15 inches of rain. Sunday was cool, dark and cloudy. Today, Monday, it is warm again. Yesterday I wore fleece; today I wear gauze.
What do we eat in transitional seasons? Tomatoes are still in and lettuce and zucchini, radishes and carrots. Blackberries are beginning to slow down. Apples are in season: the earliest local variety, the yellow Transparent, has come and gone. Yesterday it felt right to eat lamb burgers with garden tomatoes and lettuce on homemade sourdough buns and to follow that with a slice of the first apple pie of the season. The cooler weather was an invitation to crank up the dehydrator and put aside some dried apples for the colder months. I run the dehydrator at night so as not to heat up the house during the day, but there may come a day when I welcome the additional day time heat.
The milk went sour on one of our warmer days, even though it was in the coldest section of the refrigerator: when I poured it into my tea yesterday the whole cup curdled. Sour milk at my house most often means waffles, so I had a pecan waffle this morning and will have waffles with frozen blueberries or fresh blackberries or some concoction of apples for the next several breakfasts. Waste not, want not.
By lunchtime it was hot. I came home sweating from buying fresh milk in town. I drank water and put the dairy products away and then I pulled out lettuce and tomatoes, feta, basil and walnuts to make a large salad with a mustard vinaigrette. I swabbed the bowl with half a sourdough bun (I had two left from the burger episode). After another large glass of water I reached into the fridge for cold tea and sugar syrup. I had made the tea on a hot day and it was waiting for another hot day for me to drink it.
I bought ricotta last week and lemons. I had eaten a wonderful dish of zucchini slices rolled around lemon ricotta. I will probably make a pasta version of this tonight because I have zucchini in the kitchen.
For me, transitional seasons are the hardest ones to cook in: I prepare iced tea and we have a cold snap. I settle on chili and we have a heat wave. Transitional produce like apples and tomatoes that span part of two seasons can go either way: if it turns hot, you can have them in salads or as a quick snack; if it gets cold or rainy, you can make applesauce and tomato sauce or pasta marinara. But sometimes that big head of lettuce that looked so good on a sunny Saturday does not attract me when the temperature drops. I can compost produce, of course. When I don’t know what the weather will be I don’t know what I’ll want to eat: it’s easier to lock into a cold weather pattern of oatmeal, soup and bread or a summer pattern of varied salads then it is to decide what to make when the temperatures are swinging wildly. When it’s hot, I sometimes add seasonal fruit to my salads, or eat it for dessert; when there is a cold snap, I turn it into a waffle topping, an oatmeal ingredient, or crisp, or pie.
Last week I bought my last dozen summer peaches. I eat one each day. When they are gone, they’re gone. I try to remember what I eat in the winter: I am not fond of apples or pears in my morning oatmeal. Oh yeah, I switch to dried fruit and nuts: dried sour cherries, dried cranberries, dried apricots, raisins, dates, candied ginger and orange peel, walnuts, and, when it is really cold, peanut butter.
A week before the autumnal equinox we have a clear, fall farmers market: the “last” of the blackberries (The vendor said they were the last last week, too), the second week of tiny green grapes from Quilcene. The fishmongers are back with their new catch of salmon. And everyone has peppers: poblanos, jalapeños, bell peppers. Mushrooms have made an appearance. But there are still cucumbers, zucchini and tomatoes in the last official week of summer.
I buy cucumbers and peppers: if we get a warm day I will make Greek salad with my homegrown cherry tomatoes and store-bought feta. But when I see fresh tomatillos, I think green enchiladas. I buy poblano peppers and jalapeños and scallions, scour the market for cilantro (none). I have two pounds of chorizo in the freezer from my last meat delivery: I’m thinking I will make a hearty enchilada filling of fresh corn, potatoes and chorizo. We will have some cool days soon, or, with any luck, some rainy days when it’s nice to stay in the house and cook. But I need to replenish my supply of corn tortillas.
If the salsa makes enough, I might can a pint for future use. I have canned more this year than ever before in my life — when the seasons are short, you work to preserve the things you miss in the off-season.I started with dilly beans, and followed them with homemade blackberry jam. I’m still learning: yesterday I heard that you should store home-canned goods in a dark cool place (The jam is in the refrigerator already. I moved the beans and watermelon pickle to a small cupboard beside the sink where I keep my baking racks). I still have five empty pint canning jars sitting on my kitchen counter. Yesterday I canned an experimental pint of watermelon pickle, cutting a recipe way down: I have always thought watermelon rind tastes like cucumber, so it should make wonderful pickles, but the traditional flavorings for watermelon pickle include lemon, cinnamon, cloves and allspice in addition to vinegar, salt and sugar. I left out the allspice, not being a fan. The leftover brine tasted delicious in a glass of lemon sparkling water. Next year I might try canning watermelon rind as a sour pickle.
Unlike the long seasons of California that I was used to, the seasons of western Washington force me to focus on what’s here now: when there are tomatillos, better make salsa this week because they may not be here next week. When there are fresh peaches at the farm stand, make a trip out there to get them. Don’t delay.
It stays cloudy and cool this afternoon and I follow a plan I have made for Mexican pizza. I pull the last pre-made pizza shell from my freezer, along with the last bag of shredded mozzarella. I have thawed the first pound of chorizo and I sizzle it in a cast iron skillet while the oven preheats to 450 F. I spread mozzarella cheese on the crust, slice cherry tomatoes open, chop scallions, crumble feta, dice half a poblano and some red pepper and cut off the end of an ear of corn, which I scrape onto the top of the pizza before adding crumbled chorizo and feta. I make a simple salad of lettuce and tomatoes with a mustard vinaigrette and I finish the meal with a bowl of ripe blackberries tossed in half a teaspoon of turbinado sugar.
I’ll begin my day tomorrow with my “summer breakfast,” polenta cooked in milk served in a bowl over a cut-up peach and some blackberries. I will eat this in all but the hottest weather when I opt for granola instead. When the peaches are gone, I’ll make baked apple skillet pancake (aka a “Dutch baby”) and when cold weather comes to meet the growing darkness I’ll switch to oatmeal until late spring when fresh fruit comes around again.
