Food reaches special heights in the depths of summer, a time to seize upon because it is so fleeting, a time just to stand in the garden and inhale vivid images of flavor and combination, taking multiple elements and making them one story.
I cook largely by flavor memory. I look for balance and background and texture. In tasting for seasoning, I ask myself if the flavor is highlighted to its greatest degree. I don’t remember the last time I consciously measured salt.
Summer gives us the opportunity to be carefree, a barefoot, dirty kid, in our approach to everyday tasks. You have to eat dinner. Not always, but occasionally you do. You might as well challenge the mind to see pathways through multiple ingredients, perhaps starting with just one, say one small quart of okra you find at the farmer’s market.
It’s raw and it’s funny looking, and it’s my job to help it realize its potential, to be a central part of a beautiful whole. But the other elements of that whole are determined by the fates. What else looks good at the market, what is ripe in the garden, what farmstand did we pass on the way, what are the other parts of dinner?
Take for instance the fresh sausages from the game stand at the market. We sautaé those briefly – I’d finish them directly over the fire later – maybe in cast iron on the open fire of the grill. They flavor the olive oil just a tad. That might be a nice place to begin.
Or maybe the shallots should go in first, let them soften add garlic, and set aside. We could even do both of those steps, but only if stumble upon the ingredients.
Meanwhile, say we prepare fire-roasted tomatoes like we did on the July 28th podcast, straight out of the garden now that they are ripening. They are preparing on the back of the grill, while the skillet is in the front, coated with hot flavorful oil waiting for your okra. Maybe I decide to cook the okra whole today, and put it in to soften. When it has, I add the shallots and garlic back in.
And then my flavor memory craves herbs. I’m a sucker for fresh thyme so that’s what it would likely be. Good thing that once you establish it in the garden, it comes back year after year. That and a bay leaf and spices too. Paprika, a little hot, a little sweet, maybe some ground star anise, a touch of cayenne. Then again on another day I might use turmeric.
All of the sudden, the skillet takes on a personality. Of course, it heats up a bit more than I would like, so I dump my glass of white wine on it. That starts burning off, so those fire roasted tomatoes go on next.
Now all that has to marry, the flavors have to develop, it has to be seasoned. But you see my point. It was all accidental and coincidental and summer through and through. And though I just imagined it all, I bet it’s going to go great with those sausages.