Tag Archives: summer

Late Summer Tomato and Chevre Galette

This post is a lie. Yes this is more of a tart than a galette, but must importantly… it’s not the end of summer. I REFUSE TO SUCCUMB! Even though the leaves on the maples along the trail and starting to show red around their edges, the crickets are the only sound in the late summer morning air, and the tomatoes are fat and fire-truck red, I insist that this season can last forever.

But just in case, I’m gonna cook lots of things with tomatoes and corn.

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What are Crowder Peas?

I have a problem. Among the piles of mini green peppers and the baskets of tennis ball-sized tomatoes at the market last week, there were a few quart bags packed to the Ziploc with little greenish yellow beans. “Crouch peas,” was what I thought the vendor said, and she told me how delicious they are simmered for hours with salt, pepper, some butter and maybe some smoked meat. Despite having a very-low paying job and an intercontinental trip coming up, I apparently also have very low resistance to buying new food. Five-dollar mystery beans for dinner, anyone?

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Squash Season! Zucchini Lasagna

This summer is brutal. Every afternoon this week I baked like a hamburger patty on the sidewalk. When the rain finally poured down Thursday night and dropped the mercury, I was able to turn on the oven to use some of the zucchini overflowing on our counter.

I am not a huge fan of Americano lasagna. Too much beef, too much cheese, too much pasta–I generally feel like I have a gigantic brick in my stomach if I eat any of it. This recipe takes out the pasta and a lot of the cheese, so it won’t taste anything like “lasagna,” but it was so tasty that I didn’t even have time to take a cross-section picture… because it was gone before I got home!

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Where Have All the Strawberry Farms Gone?

Mt. Airy U-Pick Strawberries in Davidsonville, Md.

Long time ago…

Maryland west of the Chesapeake Bay might seem like an overflowing land of townhouses and car dealerships, but just 10 years ago there were still a lot of small farms and you-pick operations. Every year the number of farms that will allow me to run wild on their property diminishes, and I cry real tears at the thought of not being able to pick 15 pounds of PERFECTLY ripe berries.

Our family has always gone to the farm to pick fruits–getting all dirty and damp, each of us boasting that we’ve found the perfect, biggest, best morsel. The few short weeks of the strawberry season mean strawberries on cereal, salads, sandwiches, and tried-and-true Bisquick drop biscuits with heavy whipped cream.

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