Okra, plums, ricotta, bacon, wild children

The boys and I returned to the Dupont farmers market yesterday for the first time in way too long. I don't think I've ever missed so many summer Sundays there. They sampled everything and enjoyed a Pleasant Pops fix while I ate three, hot-off-the-press market tacos from Chaia. These were, and always are, spectacular; an amazing, satisfying breakfast to be sure.

the market taco trio from Chaia: carrots, mushrooms, okra/corn

We returned home laden with bags: Italian plums; okra; tomatillos; tomatoes; rhubarb; and extra popsicles for the freezer. Last night, to top some steaks, I made a roasted tomatillo, sweet pepper and habanero salsa, and today, I've stewed up ricotta and smothered okra and will soon make a plum tart.

Isn't everything gorgeous?

Italian prune and president plums

smothered okra

This morning, Ol returned home from a terrific slumber party in typical fashion: wild-eyed, over-tired, Tasmanian devil'ish. He and Jack proceeded to beat the tar out of each other for hours on end -happily for the most part- before crashing at 3pm. It will be so great for them to get back to school and a routine. I'm looking forward to it too.

Baseball season picked up again today, and Jack looked so handsome in his new white pants: he's a twig of epic proportion, and I adore him. He and Tom's dad are flying to Colorado tomorrow for a hiking trip up Mt. Ebert, "the tallest 14er" as I've just learned. 

Off to eat. Hope you are all well and enjoying this last day of August.

huh?

USq Greenmarket

First things first this morning, and it was out for coffee, Everyman Espresso on 13th (yum and devoid of hipster coffee snobbery), and breakfast at the Greenmarket. I bought a piece of Hungarian cherry cake, some ground cherry tomatoes (a husked variety), and some parcel of neatly wrapped leaves whose name I've completely forgotten.

Tom bought a second bag of the best pretzels ever while I: oohed and aahed like a happy baby over the flowers; lusted over the endless varieties of beans, tomatoes, eggplant and so forth; and snuck a purchase of two pounds of Italian prune plums and some Shiros (how in god's name I'm going to lug all this home, via Broadway tomorrow, is tbd). Hey, I was inspired.

We are soon heading off to Brooklyn, stopping in Fort Greene to join up with a foodie friend pen pal of mine that I've never met in person: Suzanne of the chicken and dumplings, pasta piselli (I've made and gone nuts about both) and spiced plum cobbler that is high on my list of to-trys. She will guide is through the Brooklyn Flea for lunch and fun, and I absolutely cannot wait!

Italian prune plums, time

Italian prune plums -these gorgeous, velvety-looking, oblong fruits- are beginning to trickle back into season, and I'm excited about their return. It means that summer is starting to consider wrapping its hot self up so as to make room for the bluster and beauty of fall. The simple yet bright flavors of produce grown in extreme heat will give way to the more nuanced ones of autumn. It is at this point each year that I start to think of stews, warm spiced jams and fruit butters on fresh bread, steaming mugs of tea on cool afternoons. A scarf here, close-toed shoes there, a hint of cool as dusk sweeps out day. I start to consider making our beds with blankets layered between the sheet and comforter, I start to wonder where my cardigans are. As a few leaves flutter to the ground each day, I make a note to purchase more lawn bags, knowing that days of endless raking aren't far in the distance. Before I cooked and shopped with the seasons, I didn't have such basic markers by which to track the pace of time. I love that something as simple as a variety of plum can orient me, remind me just where I am at this moment even though everything else seems to be spinning faster and faster. The busyness of the school year's end is equaled only by its resumption, and with just three weeks to go until the boys return to their classrooms, well, we're busy. In the midst of it all, I look for tethers, and in some elemental way, seeing these plums last week was just such an anchor, and today, I'm going to make some plum butter. Fruit butters are a long process, but that's what I enjoy about them. You need your heaviest pot, a good wooden spoon, a food mill is a real plus, time is a must. Channel your inner nonna, and a treat of a day is in store.