I wish I had truly brilliant, utterly inspiring recipes around my ears right now, but that wouldn’t be honest or true. I’ve been eating pretty simply, to be honest. Straight from the ground to the mouth, with the occasional cookery thrown in for kicks.
But that’s the beauty of summer. The winter is designed for long braisings and stewings. The summer is designed for giant bowls of cherries, and little slices of goat cheese. It’s meant for eating a meal entirely comprised of cucumbers, for gently boiling eggs and eating them cold, with lots of salt. If what you’re getting produce-wise is good, your meals can’t help but be good too.
And when you’re as hot as I am, a tall glass of ice water and a carton of strawberries is sometimes all you want. So it’s what you eat. Summer is a celebration of the mystical bounty of the earth, a manifestation of what the ground yields so generously. So roast a fish (if you must), make a large salad, and down another helping of raspberries.