I'm Just Sayin'

Summer is over. It’s still hot as hell outside, so I missed some of the clues that a new season is upon us. The pool closed two weeks ago. Our local minor league baseball team has completed its regular season and is in the playoffs. I’ve been to a college football game, and watched more than one on TV. School has started. My mums are budding and my geraniums are limping to the finish line. We’re up to K on the hurricane list. You’d think I would have caught on before now. But no, none of that tipped me off.

What brought it home to me was a trip to the farmer’s market. I go to the small one downtown, which is open on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and is tucked in an alley near the arts district. The merchants there are truly local farmers and gardeners. Nothing is trucked in from out of state. These are regular people growing stuff, some organically, in their back yards, like my mom and dad did. Like I would do if I had a back yard.

I’ve been a regular there all summer, and I’ve got my routine down. First I take a lap down the row, window shopping so to speak. Then I go back and make my purchases. The first stall is always the lady with gorgeous cut flowers: lilies, hydrangeas, zinnias, gladiolas, sunflowers. I think they place her near the street for marketing. Even if you don’t know about the farmer’s market, and you fail to notice the sidewalk sign, you’d have to be blind to miss the riot of colors. About halfway down is a table full of the most delicious baked goods you’ve ever seen, all made by the two little old black ladies whose smiles are even sweeter than their five-flavor pound cake, blueberry muffins, and lemon chess tarts. I try to resist their goodies most of the time, but they are free with their sunny greetings anyway. I get happy just thinking about those two. And at the far end are the melon men. They don’t bother with a table. They just sell their watermelons and cantaloupes from the back of their pick up. I always ask for their very best cantaloupe, and one of them will take his time to find just the right one. They might be shining me on, but I swear when I cut into that melon, it is just perfect every time.

In between the flower lady, the smiley sisters and the melon men, there are about six or eight other vendors, most loaded with tomatoes, cucumbers, green beans, eggplant, peppers, peaches, squash, and corn. There’s a lady who sells crocheted pot holders and embroidered dish towels, another with homemade soaps and more varieties of jelly and jam than Smuckers ever dreamed of. One man sets up a cooler full of ice cold bottled water and canned soft drinks. It’s a wonder I ever get away from there with any cash in hand.

I didn’t make it to the farmer’s market last week, which is why it hit me today. Summer has passed, and it left the week I stayed away. There was a noticeable change this week. Tables weren’t quite as crowded. I had my heart set on an eggplant, but had to go all the way to the melon men to find one. They had four, and gave me two of them for the price of one. No peaches this week. No berries, black or blue. Corn was piled on the tabletops, not in bushel baskets below. I know there are still weeks of harvest here in North Carolina. We haven’t seen the end of the zucchini and summer squash. The melons will last until the pumpkins come in. But as I stood there admiring the heirloom tomatoes, it hit me. I haven’t even made my fresh tomato pasta yet! Not once! And soon it would be too late! How could I let summer end without the pasta dish I dream about in February and March, when the seed catalogs arrive, teasing with glossy photographs of gorgeous red ripe tomatoes.

Needless to say, I loaded up. Drove home in a daze, thinking about the gooey mozzarella, tangy tomatoes, and pungent basil. The eggplant can wait! Tonight I’m celebrating summer one last time, with my favorite pasta. And, since I can’t share the food with everyone, I’ll have to settle for sharing the recipe. Better hurry, summer’s gone and the tomatoes are going fast! I'm just sayin ...

Fresh Tomato Pasta

6 cups fresh chopped tomatoes
2 cloves garlic, or to taste
6-8 large leaves fresh basil
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
1 pound bow tie pasta
½ pound fresh mozzarella cheese, cut in ½ inch cubes
Shredded parmesan, optional.

Cook pasta according to package directions. Meanwhile, place 4 cups of tomatoes, garlic, 4 to 6 leaves basil, and olive oil in a blender or food processor and process until smooth. Add salt and pepper to taste. Snip remaining basil into small strips. Drain pasta. Return to pot and add mozzarella. Toss to distribute cheese. Add tomato sauce and toss. Serve immediately, topped with remaining chopped tomatoes, basil, and parmesan. 6 servings.

Variation: Use feta cheese instead of mozzarella, and add a can of sliced ripe olives, drained.