Mr. Sanders, Luke the wonder dog, and I have snuck out for the Labor Day weekend. We hope you have an excellent weekend of grilling, fireflies and backyard enjoyments.

Ah, the mixed feelings that arrive with Labor Day: regrets for not having gone to the beach often enough; relief that the sand-strewn car no longer needs to be vacuumed with regularity. Rueful that cooking is moving indoors; cheered that this will be the last can of mosquito repellent we use this year. Hasta la vista, homemade, hand-cranked-by-kid-power-ice cream; hello, sweet treats whipped up in the kitchen.

In theory, the summer has seasonal experiences that we can’t enjoy during the rest of the year. Oh, yes, we could go to the beach every day if we didn’t have middle-class concerns, like holding down jobs to pay the mortgage. And yes, the beach is a fine place to visit in the fall, with sweaters and scarves and a feeling of adventure. But nothing is quite so delightful as sitting in a low-slung beach chair, with your toes wriggling in the sand, as the tide creeps up the beach while the afternoon sun warms your soul, and you munch happily on a tuna sandwich, and you never remember to turn the page in your paperback.

Conversely, I am still hauling the little hand-held vacuum out to the car to suck up yet another drift of sand that has suddenly appeared from some hidden car crevasse from that trip to the beach two weeks ago. Thank goodness we emptied out the cooler. Two week-old tuna sandwiches would be toxic.

I love grilling on the back porch, as you know, because I do very little of it myself. I think Mr. Sanders is a marvelous grill master, and I encourage him to practice his talents often. Which isn’t to say he won’t rustle up a ceremonial steak or flip the odd burger in the winter months, but it is not a given. I like certainty. I like not having to clean the cooktop every night. During grilling season I enjoy standing on the back porch while Mr. Friday flips and times and prods our dinners. We have a little wine, and hold our breath while the hummingbirds zoom into the twilight, changing places with the fireflies, who begin to sparkle. Which signals, alas, the arrival of the mosquito cloud. Not even the swooping bats have made much of an impact on the damn mosquitoes this year.

Summer desserts are simple delights that you can enjoy year ‘round. But homemade ice cream is best consumed before it is ready, scraped off the paddles, while it is still soft, and the sugar granules haven’t quite dissolved. It is always sweetest when the youngsters are cranking the ice cream maker. We have an electric ice cream maker that we have used once. It seemed like a good idea at the time – but strawberries and peaches bought in February are never as sweet as they are right now, overflowing at the farmers’ markets, luscious and ripe fruits in brilliant oranges, golds and reds.

I suggest we remember summer in other ways. A coconut pie in October will cast our memory nets back to sun screen and lotions from the beach or pool. A delightful profiterole, dripping in chocolate and oozing vanilla ice cream in November will harken back to back porch-churned vanilla ice cream. And this lemon custard is summer sunshine in a bowl. Hello, fall!

This is a recipe from The New York Times.

No-Bake Lemon Custards
By Melissa Clark

INGREDIENTS

FOR THE CUSTARDS:
2 cups heavy cream
⅔ cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons finely grated lemon zest (from 1 to 2 lemons)
Pinch of fine sea salt
⅓ cup fresh lemon juice (from 2 to 3 lemons)
FOR THE STRAWBERRY TOPPING:
1 cup sliced strawberries
1 to 2 teaspoons granulated sugar
Freshly ground black pepper, for serving

PREPARATION
In a medium saucepan, combine cream, sugar, lemon zest and salt over medium-high heat. Bring to simmer, stirring frequently to dissolve sugar. Simmer vigorously until mixture thickens slightly, about 4 to 5 minutes.
Remove from heat and stir in lemon juice. Let sit until mixture has cooled slightly and a skin forms on top, about 20 minutes.
Stir mixture, then strain through fine-mesh strainer (I used a cheesecloth) into a measuring cup with a spout; discard zest. Pour mixture evenly into six 6-ounce ramekins or small bowls.
Refrigerate, uncovered, until set, at least 3 hours.
As the custards chill, prepare the strawberry topping: Toss strawberries and sugar in a small mixing bowl. Let fruit macerate at room temperature for 30 minutes to 1 hour, until the sugar is dissolved.
To serve, top each lemon custard with some strawberry topping and grind black pepper on top.

Personal note: when I made this, I do not get 6 ramekins of custard. Instead, because the liquid reduces, I got 3 small bowls of custard. So do not attempt this recipe if you are serving a crowd. But it is a heavenly and light distillation of bright sunshine. Something to file away for a gloomy day in February, when you need a little hope.

“The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into autumn – the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.”

― E.B. White

Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

Tempus fugit, along with all the other Latin I have forgotten from high school. I was innocently wandering through the grocery store yesterday, through the produce department and its display of fancy cantaloupes that were neatly piled in bespoke net bowling ball bags, past the deli section, and around the corner toward the Gatorade aisle, when my eye wandered over to a sale wall. I expected to see back-to-school items – it’s almost the best time of the year, isn’t it? Maybe there would be piles of granola bars, or Bluey-themed water bottles. What I saw was even more horrifying: Halloween candy. It’s a million stinking degrees outside, there are hurricanes lurking off the coast of Africa, the hydrangeas are brown and panting for rain, but corporate America has determined a new timeline for me: now I need to confront the immediate future, which is candy corn and tiny 3 Musketeers bars. Where has summer gone?

We have two and a half months to live through before Halloween. To be honest, I am always in the camp that remembers to pick up the candy for trick or treating along about October 29th or 30th. The pickings are slim by then – which is why for the last couple of years I have done our Halloween candy shopping at Aldi – the tempting P.O.P. full-size Snickers bars were $1.19 each last year (though who knows what the tariffs will be doing to chocolate prices this year) and I could afford to be a neighborhood legend for the nearly half dozen children who come to our house. I am not about to spend money on candy corn and tiny 3 Musketeers bars in AUGUST.

No sirreebob. I am going to clutch and grasp at all the summer straws I have neglected thus far. I am going to make some lemonade from scratch. I am going to sit on the back steps and spit watermelon seeds out onto the lawn. I am going to Dairy Queen for a soft serve ice cream that will melt all over my hand and down my arm, and it will drip off my sticky elbow.

I haven’t shucked enough corn this summer, have you? I need to make more cole slaw. I haven’t shelled any peas, or strung enough beans. When did I last have a piña colada? College? (Why on earth do we have a blender now if not to remember our misspent youth, when we made frozen drinks using a blender and the convenient electrical outlet found in the baseball bleachers at Washington College?)

A couple of weeks ago Mr. Sanders and I were in Boston. Oysters were slurped. Lobster rolls were inhaled. Drawn butter was splashed everywhere. Baseball and hot dogs and French fries and Italian ice. That’s summer.

The farmers’ markets are burgeoning with perfection: peaches, pears, plums, watermelons, beans, berries, sunflowers, squash, zinnias, zucchini. Carpe diem, baby.

Spiked Watermelon Lemonade – let us kill a few birds with this stone.

I don’t see how I can possibly contemplate the idea of buying Halloween candy when I have yet to melt my own fingerprints while eating a scalding hot s’mores concoction. How can I move through the seasons without having had cotton candy? Or kettle corn? (Pro tip: kettle corn is a fabulous morning treat to nibble on while circling the farmers’ market on a Saturday. Just as healthy, I suspect, as Cap’n Crunch cereal, and just as disgustingly deelish.)

Sadly, my annual gardening ambition has not played out successfully. I am going to have to admit to defeat in growing tomatoes. We started out with four tomato plants. We are now down to three. The total harvest has been two tomatoes. Two. One tomato’s life cycle zipped from green, to rotten, overnight. The second tomato is still sitting on the kitchen window sill, readying itself to reach perfection while I am asleep one night this week. I am not enjoying much return on my investment. Another foolish summer romance. I will have to rely on the kindness of strangers, who can actually grow tomatoes, at the farmers’ market. I still aim to get my fill of summertime tomato sandwiches, with thick slices of sun-warmed tomatoes, and some tall frosty glasses of lemonade. Yumsters!

Go make some hay while the sun shines. Back-to-school and Labor Day are nearly here. Resist the siren song of Halloween candy corn. Can sweater weather and Christmas be far off?

“Summer was our best season: it was sleeping on the back screened porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the treehouse; summer was everything good to eat; it was a thousand colors in a parched landscape.”
—Harper Lee

Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

When we can easily nosh away on zillions of packages of deelish crunchy and salty snacks, I like to remember the pure delight of radishes. They come in an assortment of colors and sizes, so they are a delight to behold. They are compact. You can fancy them up by carving them into roses (if you must) or you can enjoy them plain and unadorned.

I like to remember sitting on the back porch on summer evenings when I was a little girl, watching my father transform four uniform pink hamburger patties into the charbroiled hockey pucks of family lore on the tiny black hibachi. My brother and I would nibble on the raw, red-skinned radishes that my mother doled out to us in small Pyrex bowls, filled with bone-chilling ice water. How could anything so cold have such a spicy kick?

Cherry red, fuchsia, magenta, hot pink, carmine, crimson, scarlet, carnelian, vermilion, coral, cardinal, cerise – I could go through my art supply catalogues picking out the names of vivid reds and pinks all day long – radishes are deeply satisfying to look at, and to gobble up.

How can we resist the lure of fresh radishes? Especially when we get fancy, and doll them up with butter and a hint of Maldon salt? The butter truly tones down the peppery, hot flavor of radish and turns it into an indulgent treat. Dorie Greenspan says, “It’s a little trick the French play to bring foods into balance, and it works.” We have taken, recently, to adding paper thin coins of radishes to our homemade tacos. And then there is this Spicy Salsa, too.

For the data driven – radishes are high in fiber, riboflavin, and potassium. They are low in calories, and have lots of Vitamin C. They are a natural diuretic, and have detoxing abilities.
Radish facts
 
Though I prefer to dwell on the spicy flavor and the crunch.

Have you tried sliced radishes on buttered bread? They will jazz up your next tea party the way cucumber sandwiches never have. Although, if you were French, you would have been eating radishes on buttered slices of brown bread for breakfast for years. Mais oui!
Radishes on Brown Bread

And if you’d rather not be chasing after runaway disks of radishes escaping from your sandwiches, try this easy peasy radish butter. Yumsters!
Radish Butter

Consider the cocktail, and how easy it is to add some sliced radishes to your favorite Bloody Mary recipe. Our friends at Food52 think radishes in Bloodies are an excellent idea.

For your next book club meeting, here is a cocktail with literary aspirations: Radish Gin Cocktail I
I haven’t been able to find the Cocchi Americano at our liquor store, though. So I have left it out, and no one seems the wiser. Nor has it been noted by my well-read blue stockings that I also used Bombay instead of the requisite Dorothy Parker gin. (For the crowd that is used to extremely cheap white wine, this is an eye-opener, just like Uncle Willy’s in The Philadelphia Story. It packs a punch.)

Here’s one for Mr. Sanders to perfect: grilled steak with grilled radishes.
Grilled Steak

It makes me sad, though, to cook a radish. There are some vegetables that are meant to be eaten gloriously simple and raw – like fresh peas, carrots, green beans and celery. Luke the wonder dog agrees.

I think I will just mosey out to the kitchen now and cut the tops off some fresh, rosy red radishes. Then I’ll slice off the root ends, pretend that I can carve the little globes into beauteous scarlet rosettes, and plop them into a small bowl of ice water. Then I will sprinkle some crunchy Maldon salt flakes over the clumsy rose petal shapes I have created, and eat one of my favorite root vegetables. Something spicy to enjoy as we await hurricane updates and anticipate the end of one spectacularly hot summer.

“We all have hometown appetites. Every other person is a bundle of longing for the simplicities of good taste once enjoyed on the farm or in the hometown left behind.”
—Clementine Paddleford

Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

It has been the hottest summer on record – but we are saying that every year now, aren’t we? As we try to walk our 10,000 steps every day, lingering under the shady trees as much as possible, Luke the wonder dog and I long to be home, in the coolth. Luke can at least lie on the floor, on top of the air conditioning vent. He also doesn’t have to worry about what to do with the sudden abundance of zucchini.

Like Homer Price’s doughnuts, ripening zucchini is everywhere. Luckily, there are just about as many recipes for zucchini as there are the ubiquitous and magically regenerating vegetables themselves.
It’s that time of year. Again. Neighbors furtively slipping their excess zucchini harvest onto your front porch, before dashing back home. These are the times that try cooks’ souls: what to do with all the excess zucchini baggage.

Luckily it’s been a great tomato season, and they provide excellent camouflage for zucchini:
Zucchini Tomato Gratin

What are we to do with all the zucchini? It doesn’t look very nice on the windowsill – summer tomatoes in varying stages of turning from green to red are much more attractive. An elegant galette is a good way to start your purge. The crust is easy and forgiving, and it is soothing to lay out all the zucchini rings in ever widening circles. You will look very competent and trustworthy. And then you can start to spring these other surprises on the unsuspecting. If you have a garden, you have been harvesting tomatoes with a greedy heart, thinking about the jars of spaghetti sauce you will enjoy this winter. But what about that ever-rising green mountain of zucchini? You need to put on your thinking cap, and find some creative culinary solutions.
Zucchini Ricotta Galette

Zucchini boat recipes are popular. I like the idea of filling hollowed out vessels of zucchini with a variety of fixings, vegetarian or not, and using up all the lingering leftovers. Zucchini Boats

Luckily, zucchini is oh, so versatile. You can find it in soups, salad, chips, galettes, casseroles, hidden in breads and cookies. You can roast it, slice it, twirl it. This is a link to a virtual compendium of Zucchini Recipes

Do not be sneaky with zucchini. You don’t want to be the formerly favorite aunt who brings zucchini ginger cupcakes to the birthday party. Kids have a different perspective on summer. They never forget so-called “gourmet” baking experiments, or deliberate kid deceptions. Zucchini Ginger Muffins Yummy icing is always welcomed.

Nobody is fooled by zucchini bread. Least of all the small children into whom you are trying to stuff healthy vegetables. They are wise to your ways. Discuss the benefits of adding vegetables to your daily diet before feeding them this delicious Lemon Zucchini Bread. We are very excited about this Chocolate Zucchini Bread.

“The trouble is, you cannot grow just one zucchini. Minutes after you plant a single seed, hundreds of zucchini will barge out of the ground and sprawl around the garden, menacing the other vegetables. At night, you will be able to hear the ground quake as more and more zucchinis erupt.”*
-Dave Barry

*This is my favorite zucchini quotation of all time, and I haul it out almost every year.

Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

Mr. Sanders, Luke the wonder dog and I are off for a little holiday respite in the mountains of North Carolina for the Fourth of July holidays this week. We are planning to grill some hot dogs in honor of our national holiday. Enjoy a column from a couple of years ago, when we had moseyed up to New England for a change of scene!

Sometimes I forget that we live in a country that is so vast and diverse that a New England hot dog is wildly different from a Chicago-style hot dog, and neither of them is like a hot dog from Texas, or from California. And this is one of the great American qualities – we are true blue and we love our regional delicacies.
In Boston, a Fenway Frank is boiled first, and then lightly grilled. (It is served in a split-top roll, which is also used for the best sort of lobster rolls: Split-top Roll) The Puritans among us prefer garnishing a Fenway Frank with just a thick wiggly trail of spicy mustard. But since this is America, feel free to pile on your own favorites.

As you travel west to Chicago, you will observe that the Chicago-style hot dog is a completely different creation. Chicago-style hot dogs are cooked in butter in a pan, and then served in warm, poppy-seed rolls, with lots of veggies on top. Chicago-style dogs are “dragged through the garden”: topped with sweet pickle relish, chopped onions, pickled peppers, tomato slices and sprinkled with celery salt. Have you been watching The Bear? You’ll know then how popular these franks are.

Then you’ll mosey down to Texas, to encounter the Hot Texas Wiener , a frank cooked in hot vegetable oil. If you place an order for a “One”, you’ll get a blisteringly hot frank topped with spicy brown mustard, chopped onions, and chili sauce. Yumsters.

As you continue west, and stop in Los Angeles for a some street food, you will encounter an L.A. Danger Dog. This frank is wrapped in bacon! I cannot imagine the state that Gwyneth and Meghan call home would do anything so decadent and audacious as a grilled, bacon-wrapped hot dog. More controversial to a hot dog purist are the toppings: catsup, mustard, mayonnaise, sautéed onions, with peppers, and a poblano chile pepper. Catsup? Mayo? But to be polite, you must eat like a local, and it will be deelish.

Common sense teaches us to not use catsup on our franks after the age of 18. You might as well make bologna sandwiches with Wonder bread, and douse them in catsup.

Have you ever seen the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile on the road? I can remember driving on a Florida highway once, and suddenly, puttering alongside us, was the Weinermobile. What a cheap thrill that was! Sadly, now it is called the Frankmobile. Time marches on.

You can follow the Frankmobile on Instagram:

July is National Hot Dog Month, and the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council says that some of the top hot dog consuming cities include: Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Chicago, Phoenix, Atlanta, Detroit, Washington, DC, and Tampa. You’ll want to brush up on your hot dog etiquette https://www.kplctv.com/2019/07/03/hot-dog-etiquette-dos-donts-during-fourth-july-holiday/, I’m sure.

And here are the official rules for Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest, in case you want to try this at home.

NPR 1A – Hot Dogs

“A hotdog at the ballgame beats roast beef at the Ritz.”
— Humphrey Bogart

Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil, and ink.