This chicken recipe is truly amazing: it is easy, it is delicious, it cooks in practically no time, and takes care of those last few wrinkly cherry tomatoes you have rolling around on the kitchen windowsill. You will be pleased with yourself (most importantly) and you will have a new dish to add to your repertoire. Pay attention, class: 3-Minute Chicken.

I found this recipe on Food52 where they specialize in genius ideas. Food52 also encourages home cooks’ creativity and improvisation. The original recipe called for mint and a ball of fresh burrata cheese. I improvised, and substituted basil and fresh mozarella.

I know for a fact that we don’t ever have fresh mint, unless it is the week just after the Kentucky Derby, and I haven’t yet killed the mint plant I rooted from cuttings left from our Derby mint julep celebration. Usually by mid-June all I have is a sad, crispy sprig languishing in a neglected pot. And here it is, August. Right now we do have a healthy basil farm – this has been a great year for both basil and hydrangeas – and for once we have an abundance of splendidly aromatic basil, and vases full of clouds of hydrangeas. Maybe we finally have had enough rain.

Burrata, though it is creamy and delicious, is hard to find, and tends to be expensive. It is at the top of our permanent shopping list for our infrequent field trips to Trader Joe’s. This is our standard list: Trader Joe’s Premium Extra Virgin Olive Oil, Trader Joe’s Movie Theatre Popcorn, Trader Joe’s Reserve Meritage Paso Robles 2021 Red Wine (deelish, and only $10!), burratta, and depending on what is blooming in the back yard, an armful of fresh flowers.

These days even our humble Food Lion carries fresh mozzarella, so I think I can make this cheese substitution with impunity. I will try this recipe again with the proper ingredients after our next trip to TJ’s, when I can stock up on fresh mint, too.

Mr. Sanders loves to pour through cook books and find complicated, multi-step recipes for dinner. I guess he welcomes a challenge. Except for ritual holiday fare, I tend to opt for simple, no-recipe dinners. I like plain, roasted chicken and rice, and he is more of a Coq au Vin cook. I like Martha’s One-Pan Pasta and he opts for Marcella Hazan’s butter pasta sauce

One of my favorite meals in our rotation is a variation on chicken schnitzel – I take a boneless chicken breast and halve it carefully with the super sharp boning knife, carefully avoiding my fingers. Then I pound it mercilessly with the rolling pin, while it is sandwiched between heavy duty gallon-size Baggies, so I don’t spray chicken bits and/or salmonella all over the kitchen. After pounding the chicken I dip it in flour, egg and then plain panko bread crumbs. I fry it crisp and crunchy in a pan with oil and butter. That takes about 10 minutes, and gets 3 breading pans, 2 plates, and 1 frying pan dirty. Not to mention the stove top and the backsplash…

On the other hand, the 3-minute chicken first calls for broiling the tomatoes until they char and blister. But that is an easy peasy clean up – you can line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil to keep everything clean and shiny. 3-minute chicken requires no breading – so already you are saving time on that messy clean up. Once the chicken is pounded you can toss it into the oil. Quick – turn the chicken in about a minute, or a minute and a half. In a bowl, combine the blistered tomatoes, torn chunks of mozzarella cheese and the basil leaves. I added some garlic, because because because olive oil and basil need garlic. Though it is your choice. Now get your dinner plates out.

Plate the chicken, cover it with the tomato, basil and mozzarella mixture. Add rice to the side. Or add some buttered pasta. Mr. Sanders would probably have dreamed up a multi-pronged approach, and prepared fettuccine Alfredo with pancetta and peas with aged (though freshly grated) parmigiano reggiano and asparagus as his side dish. But I have walked 10,000 steps with Luke the wonder dog already today, and don’t need to prove myself. Although I will add a green salad, maybe some crusty bread, candles, and a chilled glass of cheap Chardonnay. After dinner, load your plates in the dishwasher, scrub the frying pan, and throw away the aluminum foil. You have plenty of time for Industry, and a second glass of wine. Thanks, @Food52! You saved the day!

“Someone once asked Dad: “But what do you want to save time for? What are you going to do with it?” “For work, if you love that best,” said Dad. “For education, for beauty, for art, for pleasure.” He looked over the top of his pince-nez. “For mumblety-peg, if that’s where your heart lies.”
― Ernestine Gilbreth Carey

Have you noticed the breath of coolth in the morning? The heat of the summer is taking a short break and you have got to step away from your screens to revel in it. Hurricane season is always mercurial. Let’s make hay this weekend before we expire from the heat next week. It’s the perfect time to make gazpacho.

Gazpacho was made originally without tomatoes, because tomatoes and green peppers didn’t grow in Europe until the sixteenth century, when these New World vegetables introduced. Today gazpacho is considered “an uncooked mixture of tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, water, vinegar, onions, cucumbers, and green peppers, thickened with bread crumbs.” I tend to toss in anything that is ripe, or about to be over-ripe. Gazpacho

We have so many impulsive farmers’ market buys crammed in the kitchen right now. There is not enough time to slice up all of the plump heirloom tomatoes for classic tomato sandwiches. I am going to have to toss a few into the blender for expediency. Zucchini will be cropping up soon, too. It is best to add them to the blender fast, before anyone notices how many have suddenly crossed our threshold. And all of the corn! And watermelon. Yikes.

Walk out onto the front porch with your book and relax this afternoon. Tonight you are going to whip up a batch of gazpacho, gentle readers. Because at this time of the year you have got all the fixings in your fridge, or right there on your kitchen windowsill. You do NOT need to go to the grocery store, I promise you. This is not a tricky damn woo Martha recipe, where you need organic, extra-virgin, artisanal walnut oil, freshly pressed by silent Trappist monks. Even I have all this stuff, and usually I am only good for Triscuits, hard bits of Cheddar cheese and cheap white wine. (This summer there is a bottle of vodka stashed in the freezer. Shhh.)

Stick your head in the fridge. What do you see? I see Vidalia onions, half of a cucumber, a bowl of watermelon chunks, some limes, green peppers, radishes, V-8 juice and Tobasco sauce. There is an assortment of ripening tomatoes, a bale of basil, and a poor sad, store-bought parsley plant struggling on the kitchen windowsill. And bread! The bread collection in the freezer yields a goodish loaf of last week’s foccaccia bread. Perfecto! In the cupboard I find olive oil and a big old can of Marzano tomatoes – in case we need to stretch the recipe, and make enough to serve for lunch tomorrow.

Gazpacho is exceptionally versatile. It can be a soup, a dip, or a cocktail. I am opting for the cocktail, because it is Friday, after all. I don’t need to work up a sweat tonight, and neither do you! It’s going to be a perfect evening to sit out on the back porch with Mr. Sanders, and marvel at how summer sped by so fast. It seems like only yesterday we were “Ooohing,” and “Ahhhing,” the Fourth of July fireworks, and now school is just about to start…

Grab a bag of Doritos (ours might be a little stale, sorry) and pour some gazpacho in a bowl and drop it on the table next to the porch swing. Excuse yourself for a few minutes. Luke the wonder dog is good for entertaining people because he always wants to chase the ball. Hours (and hours) of endless amusement for him…

Thaw and soak the bread, peel, chop, slice and dice your vegetables, and then whip them up in the blender, or with your food processor. Chunky – great for dip. Slurpy – good for soup. Smooth – get out the straws and the vodka.

Gazpacho Andaluz

Watermelon Gazpacho

Gazpacho Salad

“Again and again, the cicada’s untiring cry pierced the sultry summer air like a needle at work on thick cotton cloth.”
― Yukio Mishima

August is National Peach Month. The world’s largest peach is in Gaffney, South Carolina. It’s the town’s water tower built in the shape of a peach. I took photos of it on one of our road trips – it is quite impressive. And now it is a landmark I look forward to, along with sightings of the South of the Border tower in Hamer, South Carolina and the giant King Kong swinging from the not-so-tall-skyscraper at the Hollywood Wax Museum in Myrtle Beach. I am such a tourist. Who knew that South Carolina has so much to offer in tasteful and educational roadside attractions? But I digress. Peaches.

Summer is the time for juicy watermelon, thick tomato sandwiches, and dripping peaches. How can you appreciate a peach unless you feel the velvety skin with your own sticky fingers? If you haven’t had peach juice run down the front of your shirt, you have not had a satisfactory summer experience.
We have started counting down to the first day of school, the beginning of fall, the leaves turning, Labor Day, and a break in the weather. Hurricane Debby is pelting down rain as I type this today. Across the street, our neighbor’s front yard has slowly turned into Lake Michigan. And yet, it is still 82°F. As ever, torpid, slow moving August seems like the longest month. Spare me the pumpkin-spiced items that are popping up already. Stop with the displays of Halloween candy. It’s still August. Who can stomach candy corn when it is still National Peach Month?

Mr. Sanders and I wandered through our farmers’ market last Saturday, buying an assortment of colorful heirloom tomatoes and warm, fuzzy peaches. It looks like it has been a bountiful peach season despite the record-breaking heat. The cheerful highway sunflowers are in bloom and the crape myrtles are nodding in their ruffled glory. As luck would have it, peaches, tomatoes and basil all make deelish salads, some of which don’t require much effort on my part beyond slicing, which is good because it has been so relentlessly hot that I have taken to napping in the afternoon. It has even been too hot for Luke the wonder dog to go for an afternoon walk. Last night he had a twilight stroll around the block, once the sidewalk had cooled, and the fireflies lighted the way.

Our clever friends at Food52 have the perfect recipe for all those peaches and tomatoes; they call it the “supreme salad of summer.” It is lighter and tangier than the Caprese salads we have started to take for granted; no heavy, slick balsamic vinegar, instead, they use a tart apple vinaigrette. Tomato, Peach, Chèvre, and Herb Salad with Apple Vinaigrette.

The goat cheese is lighter than fresh mozzarella, and has a little kick. Not that I will ever completely tire of Caprese salads, but I can always use another cool, easy-to-assemble, no-recipe-needed dinner. The shallot is pretty, and tasty, too. The chèvre was a challenge to find in our little grocery store, since we do not live in Brooklyn or Paris, but I was able to score a package, tucked away in the deli department. Be persistent! (I also used Heinz apple cider vinegar, not fancy-pants vinegar from Williams Sonoma, as the recipe suggests. We are on a budget.)

Martha suggests a Peach Panzanella, which I heartily endorse. I happen to have some day-old foccacia that will pair beautifully with the sweet peaches. Peach Panzanella. I am going to toss in a few farmers’ market-bought heirloom tomatoes, too.

Light, cool cheeses help vary summer meals. I love burrata cheese, but it is hideously expensive (unless you are lucky enough to live near a Trader Joe’s), and you have to use it up in mere minutes. It does not do well staying in the fridge; bring it home, eat it up. So plan on an early supper tonight. And get some great bread for grilling. I like to rub a garlic clove over the surface of the grilled bread , after it has cooled a little. Yumsters. This is a meal fit for your Parisian fantasy: warm tomatoes, peaches and bread, with mouthfuls of cool, creamy burrata. Add a nice glass of cheap white wine. A veritable feast.
Tomato Peach Burrata Salad

Here’s an idea — Peach Salsa:

4 peaches, peeled and pitted
2 large tomatoes, cut into wedges and seeded
½ sweet onion, cut into wedges
½ cup fresh cilantro leaves
2 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced
1 cup of chopped peppers – you choose whether to add jalapeño
4 teaspoons cider vinegar
1 teaspoon lime juice
¼ teaspoon pepper

Combine the peaches, tomatoes, onion, cilantro, and garlic in a food processor or blender. Pulse until satisfactorily chopped.
Add chilies, vinegar, lime juice and pepper and pulse again until well combined. Transfer to an airtight container and chill until ready to serve. Yields 4 cups. Add warm chips. Top up your tacos. Use over grilled chicken. Bliss!

In honor of National Peach Month Mr. Sanders and I recently shared a plate of lightly grilled peaches and tomatoes, doused with olive oil and dotted with soft clots of bleu cheese. Yumsters. Such a tasty appetizer or light dinner. All those fit and toned athletes at the Olympics have shamed us – there is only one helping served these hot summer nights. Saturday night we splashed out though, when we grilled peaches and tomatoes, chunked some fresh mozzarella, and drizzled a homemade vinaigrette dressing over plates of crisp arugula. Then we grilled small filets and roasted some tiny potatoes for our main course. And then, yes, we had small (oh, so tiny!) bowls of vanilla ice cream, topped with tender, golden slices of peach. I was never destined to hurl my plump self over the uneven parallel bars; I must accept that.

Mr. Sanders sliced half a peach onto his bowl of cold twiggy cereal this morning, leaving the other half for me on the cutting board. I ate it over the sink, because the juices dripped furiously and there wasn’t anyone around who would point out that I should have been ladylike and used a napkin. Don’t neglect any opportunity to just seize the day, and a peach, early, and eat it in your own free-spirited summer fashion.

“The people that I liked and had not met went to the big cafes because they were lost in them and no one noticed them and they could be alone in them and be together.”
― Ernest Hemingway

The Summer Sips 2024 edition of Food Friday is coming to you from a Parisian daydream. We like to try a variety of cocktails every summer, and this year there is a theme: the Paris Olympics.

As you know, The Summer Olympic Games are being held in Paris, the City of Lights, a city known for its romantic allure, high fashion, gourmet food, art history, and famous landmarks. During the Olympic opening ceremony Paris was alive with absurdist spectacles – art coming alive, paintings fleeing museums, colorful tableaux, and athletes waving in the rain. Paris is a great city for walking (my favorite athletic activity): down the paths along the Seine, past Notre Dame, beneath the Eiffel Tour, in the gardens at the Tuileries, outside of the Louvre, inside the Louvre, and along the Champs-Élysées we have been walking, taking in the international culture while watching all the young athletic champions sent to compete here.

Paris is the perfect fantasy getaway location. When I daydream about Paris, it’s pre-war and I see myself sitting at the bar in Harry’s, sipping a French 75, laconically handing Ernest Hemingway a box of matches so he can light my Gauloises cigarette while he is plying me with heady cocktails. (If I am having fantasies, I might as well go all the way.) Be careful with French 75s – they do pack a wallop.

The 75

Ingredients:
1 1/2 ounces gin (note: we use cognac)
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
3/4 ounce simple syrup
2 ounces Champagne
Lemon twist garnish

1. Add gin, lemon juice and simple syrup to a shaker tin, shake with ice and double strain into a champagne flute.
2. Top with champagne and garnish with a lemon twist.
French 75

The 75 is the preferable alternative to “The Death in the Afternoon” – known as the “Hemingway Cocktail” which is a 1:1 ratio of Champagne and Absinthe. I respect my dwindling brain cells too much to try this, but you might have a surplus: The Death in the Afternoon Hemingway suggested drinking three to five of these in one sitting. Slowly. No wonder he died young.

Snoop Dogg has been ubiquitous at these Olympics. Snoop has traveled with the US Olympic team, popped up in the stands in perfectly memed poses, and he’s even carried the Olympic torch. Here’s to Snoop and his swimming coach, Michael Phelps! In the pool with Snoop and MP

Snoop Dogg’s Gin & Juice

30 ml gin
30 ml apple vodka
60 ml pineapple juice
Wedge of pineapple, to garnish
Lime slice, to garnish

Fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Add the gin, vodka, and pineapple juice. Stir well. Strain into a rocks glass and garnish with the pineapple and lime.

Other notable cocktails for your Olympic qualification trials:
The Champs-Élysées
This cocktail is named after the famous Parisian avenue and combines cognac with Yellow Chartreuse. Exotique!

Ingredients:
1 1/2 ounces Hennessy V.S
3/4 ounce Yellow Chartreuse
1/4 ounce lemon juice
3 dashes of Angostura bitters
Garnish with lemon zest

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake until well chilled, then strain into a tumbler and garnish with lemon zest.

Back home we don’t need all of the fancy liqueurs, accents and bubbly. We can misbehave American-style.
We don’t need something fancy. An Old Bay Martini!

Lots has happened this summer. We’ve missed Wimbledon, but surely there is a croquet game in our future before school starts again? In which case, Pimm’s Cups are in order:

Not every drink has to be alcoholic. There are plenty of non-boozy ways to cool off this summer, too. Mr. Sanders is very fond of an Arnold Palmer – simple, thirst quenching, IG-ready:

Go USA!

“You can’t put a limit on anything. The more you dream, the farther you get.”
—Michael Phelps

I love the simplicity of summer cooking, but, as you know, my personal summertime philosophy is to send as much of the cooking outdoors with Mr. Sanders and his grill, as often as I possibly can, without seeming churlish. I need to figure out what dishes I can bring inside, without compromising myself. And that is why I looked into what the cast-iron frying pan can do.

Instead of wandering aimlessly around the internet, and relying on my favorite hangouts at Food52 or Bon Appétit, I thumbed through some of my actual printed cookbooks for some ideas. One of my batter-flecked, cracked spine cookbooks provides me with hours of entertainment: The Southerner’s Cookbook: Recipes, Wisdom, and Stories From the Editors of Garden & Gun. These are well-researched recipes, which are kitchen-tested, as well as being traditional and time-tested.

I want to enjoy sweet corn for the rest of the summer, or as long as our farmers’ market sells it. Here is a great recipe from Garden & Gun for Cast-Iron Charred Corn:

8 ears of corn, husks and silk removed
1/4 cup finely diced bacon
1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup minced Vidalia onion
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon minced fresh chives

To removed the corn kernels, cut off the ends of each ear to make flat surfaces. One at a time, stand the ears in a wide casserole dish and carefully cut down the sides with a sharp knife. Next, hold each cob over a bowl and scrape the back edge of the knife to remove the “milk”. Discard the milked ears and set liquid aside.

Place a cast-iron skillet over medium-high eat. Add the cut corn kernels to the pan and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, tossing occasionally. Add the bacon and continue to cook until the kernels are slightly charred and the bacon begins to crisp, about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and set aside.

In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the corn “milk”, the charred corn and bacon mixture, and the cream. Reduce the heat to low and cook, stirring often, for 4 to 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle with the chives and serve hot. And now you will never need to read the recipe again. You can add this to your summer side dish rotation, but it can also ease you into fall.

Oh, look! It’s also available online: Cast Iron Charred Corn

We’ve also got to give the Food52 city slickers their due: Food52 Fried Corn with Bacon

I like to steam corn-on-the-cob in a big pot, with just an inch of water, and a collapsible metal vegetable steamer. If we have a crowd I use the big lobster steamer pot. This is a highly theatrical production, full of drama and steamy special effects. On the other hand, Mr. Sanders prefers giving corn the outdoor treatment – he wraps the ears of corn in great sails of aluminum foil, dotted with gobs of butter, which he then tosses onto the sizzling grill. I suspect he is reliving Boy Scout camping trips. Some of the corn must be burnt and charred, just in case you wondered how to tell it was done.
Grilled Corn

I love the idea of using raw everything. I make this early in the day, and let it steep in the fridge, becoming more flavorful by the moment as we lope along toward dinner. No fuss, no muss. And it uses local produce, thus reducing my carbon footprint. This means I have been virtuous enough for one day, and now we can use the blender to whip up a few frozen cocktails before dinner.

Amagansett Corn Salad
Serves 4
8 ears of white corn
2 quarts cherry tomatoes
3 tablespoons high-quality balsamic vinegar
1 medium red onion
(Optional) 1 quart sugar snap peas
(Optional) 1 handful rough-chopped basil or flat-leaf parsley
Salt, pepper

1. Strip raw corn from ears. Yep, raw. You can use a fancy corn stripper or just run your chef’s knife down the side of each ear about 8 times.
2. Slice all cherry tomatoes in half or quarters depending on your preference.
3. Chop the red onion into a large dice.
4. If using the sugar-snap peas (they can be hard to find when the corn and tomatoes are available — their seasons barely overlap, and even then you’re likely getting corn and tomatoes from the south and sugar snaps from the North.) Anyway, if using them, cut in half or thirds to make more bite-sized. If you’re not using them, and you want a little green for visual appeal, some rough chopped basil or flat-leaf parsley will do the trick.
5. Toss all vegetables in a bowl, along with the vinegar, salt and pepper.
Add a crusty loaf of warm peasant bread, with some fresh sweet butter and a nice cold, crisp, cheap white wine. It is a perfect, light summer meal. We can use some leftover corn salad tossed with elbow macaroni and oil and vinegar for lunch the next day. Two meals, one prep — equals perfection.

Next week is our annual Summer Sips! column. Send me your favorite summer cocktail recipes!
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Subject line: Summer Sips!
(2023 and 2022 )

“A light wind swept over the corn, and all nature laughed in the sunshine.”
— Anne Brontë

Our refrigerator is my new best friend. It is helping me persevere through the hottest summer we have ever known. It is always reliably chugging away there in the kitchen, storing the fixings for every meal, so I don’t need to fire up the stove, or the grill. In our undistinguished corner of the universe things are cool, calm and collected. Thank goodness.

After eating my ritual bowl of sticks and twigs this morning, I had a little hankering for something cool and sweet. When what to my wandering eye should appear, on the top shelf of the fridge, but a bowlful of watermelon slices! Mr. Sanders was still out patrolling the neighborhood with Luke the wonder dog, so he did not see me standing over the kitchen sink, gobbling up mouthfuls dripping, sweet, sticky watermelon as icy treat, preparing for the hot day ahead.

It is best to be prepared for emergencies. We keep the freezer stocked in the winter with provisions that we can heat up in case the blizzard or the ice storm keeps us marooned at home, or the flu hits and we are bed-bound/ridden. Summertime calls for some reverse engineering. We need to have a whole new array of tricks up our sleeves. We need to hone our survival skills accordingly. Here are a few handy dandy items you should consider keeping on hand, just to keep your distance from the stove:

Melons – both watermelon and cantaloupe.
Watermelon that you can eat by the slice anytime, add to a salad with some feta cheese, and cucumbers, or employ as an afternoon diversion: turn on the sprinkler and prepare to see who can spit the seeds the farthest – it’s still fun.

Watermelon and feta salad

Melon and Prosciutto salad

More watermelon ideas

Fruits – the best part of summer is the sheer profusion of seasonal fruits that never taste as wonderful in October: peaches, nectarines, plums, cherries, blueberries, raspberries, grapes, strawberries, blackberries – you name ‘em, they are deliciousness in the summer. Wash up a bowl of berries and serve yourself at the kitchen sink; be a purest. Or if you want to be fancy, make a batch of whipped cream. Then you can enjoy a berry fool, or an Eton Mess.

Berry Fool

Eton Mess

Tomatoes – do NOT keep them in the fridge. Have an artful lineup on the kitchen windowsill, or a bowlful ready, right on the counter. Eat fresh warm tomatoes from your container garden. Buy a few at the farmers’ market. Stop at a farm stand. Make a tomato salad. Make a tomato sandwich. It might be stinking hot out, but it is tomato sandwich season, and you don’t want to miss the moment. Stock up on good bread and mayonnaise. Tomato sandwiches are good for breakfast, lunch and/or dinner. Think of sitting out on the back porch as the sun is going down. The shadows are getting purple-y and finally a breeze is rising. The sprinkler is tip-tapping in the side yard and the swallows are arcing high in the sky above you. A tomato sandwich on thickly sliced bread with a handful of salty potato chips adds to the summer moment, and the day redeems itself.

Tomato sandwich

Tomato salad

A deli chicken – It has always seemed slightly decadent to buy a rotisserie chicken when I have a perfectly good oven at home, but these days I am doing all that I can to avoid turning it on and heating up the house. You know how helpful a leftover rotisserie chicken can be when we are pressed for time, and with all of the chaos brought on by summer heat, vacations, impromptu gatherings, and ennui. We need to accept that such a tiny shortcut will not upset the delicate moral balance of the universe.

You know all the permutations: leftover chicken on top of salad, tacos, chicken salad, Panzanella salad, chicken pizza, chicken Caesar salad, and nachos…
Rotisserie Chicken recipes

Rotisserie chicken salad cups

Trust that the TikTok geniuses to have found an easy way to separate the chicken meat from the bones! TikTok chicken

Hot dogs – quit your whining and either light the grill, or get out the steamer and cook up some hot dogs for dinner. Slather on the bug spray and get out on the back porch. Watch the stars coming out. Have a nice cold glass of cheap white wine. Potato chips are always an acceptable side dish in the summer. There will be healthy watermelon for dessert.

Ice cream – popsicles, as we remember from last week, are a summer necessity. Vanilla ice cream is also good to keep on hand in case of a root beer float emergency, which can happen more often than you imagine. This year we have invested in a container of chocolate Magic Shell, which is still a miracle to behold. Ice cream sandwiches, which melt more slowly, and less disastrously, than Eskimo pies.

Or you can be really decadent and go out for ice cream! It is always diverting to stand in the long line at the ice cream parlor and consider all the different flavors of ice cream, pressing your nose against the cool display glass. Maybe this time you will order Sea Salt Caramel, or New Orleans Pecan Praline, or Toasted Coconut? How about Triple Mango, Pink Bubblegum or Cotton Candy? No? It will be good old Mint Chocolate Chip again for me, too.

It’s almost August. Relief is just around the corner. In the meantime, try to keep your cooking to the bare minimum, and your fridge loaded up with summer fruits and veggies. Enjoy the cheap thrills of rotisserie chicken and trips to the ice cream parlor. In deepest February we will think differently about the weather.

“Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.”
—Russell Baker

Do you remember the summers when you were young when a hot summer afternoon could be spent slowly consuming a Good Humor ice cream treat? I usually bought mine with the dusty coins I had fished out from under the sofa cushions, from deep within the abyss of the dangerous sofa bed mechanism. Finding enough coins for ice cream could occupy a whole precious summer vacation morning so that the afternoon heat would be countered by a cool, icy, super-sweet diversion.

Those were languid afternoons, spent idly glider swinging on the shady front porch, reading library books, watching the neighbors, and napping. The postprandial arrival of the Good Humor man, with silver bells tinkling on his shiny white truck, brought all the neighborhood out to the sidewalk to consider the array of treats that called for considered decision making. If you were feeling flush, you could splurge on a Chocolate Eclair or Toasted Almond bar. I tended to order the less expensive and longer-lasting BonJoy ice, a plastic cup with a purple and white swirl of grape and lemon ice. It lasted the longest, I decided, after analyzing my several summers of scientific research and testing.

Today we have air conditioning, a cashless society, a pile of library books on our Kindle, a box of Klondike double dark chocolate ice cream bars in the freezer, no more Good Humor trucks, and the hottest summer ever recorded. It is time to respond with home remedies.

Luckily, there are many summer fruits available at the farmers’ markets and the grocery store for our new grown-up research. I found an abundance of velvety peaches recently, and while I cannot hope to recreate the summers of my youth, maybe I can do something constructive during all these afternoon rain storms instead of whining about the weather. And luckily, Amazon is just a few keystrokes away. How easy it is to order popsicle molds! Popsicle Molds

How to make popsicles.

Back in those screen-free days, when our mother was at her wits’ end trying to keep us amused, she would assign ice cream making duties to my brother and me. We would sit on the back steps, turning the handle on the Sears version of a modern ice cream churn. There is nothing more enjoyable for a kid on a summer evening than to be left in charge of ice, a box of rock salt, a mixture of cream and sugar, and a mechanical device that could mangle tiny hands and fingers.

My brother and I were locked in a constant power struggle then. (Being older and more worldly, he had introduced me to the painful Indian Rope Burn trick, yet he never tackled me when we played football.) We took turns. He would let me turn the handle initially, when it was easy, and boring. As the icy mixture gradually thickened, it became more difficult to move the churn handle. I would insist upon having my fair share of time at the controls, only to find that I couldn’t budge the handle any more; I just wasn’t strong enough. He would muscle in, and take over, leaving me bereft and weepy. Luckily, blood was never spilled, and eventually, after the churning and the sniping, the ice cream was always cold and delicious. We’d sit in companionable silence, spooning up our creation, watching the stars pop out in the western sky, sometimes wondering aloud if the planes flying in the distance were really UFOs. We only ever made vanilla, with crunchy sugar crystals. I have never tasted that sweet nectar again.

Go make some summertime memories. Something sweet and good has to come out of all this summer heat. Remember the farmers who toil all year long for the bounties we enjoy daily. Peach popsicles are the best. Or kiwi. Or blueberry. And strawberry.

Homemade Peach Popsicles

Roasted Peach Popsicles

“Sometimes life is just what it is, and the best you can hope for is ice cream.”
― Abbi Waxman

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 last year, 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 so 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 dogs 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 , 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

Happy Fifth of July!

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

We are getting ready for our summer vacation here in the Spy Test Kitchens. We are packing up the trusty auto to drive halfway across the state to a large lake, where we hope to do some swimming, hiking, and farm-stand-grazing. This year we bringing Luke the wonder Dog with us, instead of dropping him at the rather pricey dog spa. The three of us are ready for adventure, and we will be in search of intriguing-smelling walks, stands of trees, new bushes, places to toss the Chucker ball, and dog-friendly restaurants that have outdoor tables. I see a lot of ice cream in our future.

Last year for our summer getaway we went to New England, for many sentimental reasons, visiting old friends and far-flung members of the family. One morning in Cambridge, MA, we had a delightfully simple breakfast of a bowl of strawberries and blueberries. The end of June is that golden moment, where for mere days strawberries and blueberries are both in season. You should enjoy the magic yourself. Last weekend was the solstice, Strawberry Moon, which you will discover after a swift Google search, was named for the fleeting period when strawberries were harvested. Thank you, Farmers’ Almanac: “This ‘Strawberry Moon’ name has been used by Native American Algonquian tribes that live in the northeastern United States as well as the Ojibwe, Dakota, and Lakota peoples to mark the ripening of ‘June-bearing’ strawberries that are ready to be gathered.” Strawberry Moon. Just give me a bowl of sweetness, please.

Raspberry bushes grew near our house when I was little. I remember trailing along behind on the dusty, unpaved country path, stumbling over stones, trailing after my mother and older brother in the heat of a summer morning. I was hot, tired, and frustrated by being the tail end of the procession through the countryside. I was not overwhelmed by the writhing, prickly bushes covered with small red berries. Until I tasted a few. And then I learned to recognize which berries were soft and ripe, and how to pluck them cautiously, mindful of the vicious spiny thorns. Experience is a great teacher. The sun-warmed fruit I ate those summer days has never been equaled by anything store-bought. Over summers I learned the subtleties and variations of the color red as the raspberries ranged from crimson, to alizarin, to ruby, to flame red; to madder, scarlet, and vermillion. The drupelets were covered with tiny hairs (called trichomes, I now know), and the berries were sweet, yielding, and juicy. I don’t think I’ve ever studied food so closely, but they were my first You Pick It experience. Raspberries

That said, my Proustian encounter with raspberries paved the way for my appreciation of more fruits and berries. And I am going to take advantage of all the berries that come my way while we are on vacation. I think Luke deserves an icy treat all for himself, after a day of hiking with Mr. Sanders: Ice Water Bowl

Martha has strong opinions about strawberries, as we would expect. Pay attention: Types of Strawberries

There is nothing like a fancy, summertime Pavlova. And you will feel a great sense of accomplishment adding one to your cooking repertoire: Berry Pavlova

Here is a handy dandy list list of summer fruits. Treat yourself! Do it for Luke.
Summer Fruits:
Blueberries
Strawberries
Raspberries
Blackberries
Cantaloupe
Honeydew melon
Nectarines
Peaches
Plums
Sour cherries
Watermelon
Apricots
Plums

“Taste every fruit of every tree in the garden at least once. It is an insult to creation not to experience it fully. Temperance is wickedness.”
—Stephen Fry

Happy Summer! It looks like it is going to be a long and hot one judging by the past couple of weeks. The cicadas have been warning us, with their constant whine, while drowning out the leaf blowers. The days have been real stinkers, with dangerously high temperatures. Luke the wonder dog is happy to trot off on his morning walk when it is still in the sixties, but he is less ebullient about his late afternoon walkabout once the temperature climbs above 85°. Post-afternoon-walk, you can find Luke stretched out on the wood floor, cooling off by cozying up to an air conditioning vent. A brilliant dog.

The following is a cautionary tale. You know how brilliant some ideas feel, when you first have the “Eureka!” moment, and latch onto an pantry-friendly idea for dinner? I had one of those epiphanies yesterday – Chef’s Salad for dinner. Easy peasy, right? Everything should be there in the fridge. The reality was that it took two trips to the grocery store — once to buy chicken. The second visit to buy bacon, lettuce, green onions, Swiss cheese, Sugar Pop tomatoes, and another pepper. Both trips meant climbing into the compact VW furnace that had been sitting in the driveway, absorbing the heat from the afternoon sun. If you have ever owned a Volkswagen, you will be familiar with the efficiency of the VW heating and cooling system, which never achieves peak operation until you have arrived at your destination. But that was fine; I had an NPR driveway moment, while sweating my brains out.

Back at home, with all my ingredients spread out on the counter, I started preparing our easy, peasy, No-Recipe-Needed dinner: a summery Chef’s Salad, with barely any cooking. First I baked the bacon on a parchment paper—lined cookie sheet at 425°F for 12 minutes. I should have stopped at 11 minutes. Sigh.

Then I halved a wriggly boneless chicken breast, so I would have 2 pieces of chicken to pound thin and flat. I got out some aggressions whacking the pink chicken between two plastic bags, using my fancy French rolling pin. Luke, ever watchful, retreated to a safe observation post under the kitchen table. Then I dredged the tissue-thin chicken in flour, egg and plain Panko bread crumbs, and fried it in olive oil with a pat of butter, for about 3 minutes a side, draining the cooked chicken on paper towels. (This to-ing and fro-ing resulted in about 500 more steps on my pedometer.)

Then I cubed up some day-old Focaccia and fried it in a heart-stopping combo of bacon fat and olive oil. After draining the croutons on more paper towels, I sprinkled them lightly with Lawry’s seasoning salt, garlic powder, onion powder and a cloud of herbs de Provence. Yumsters.

Luckily, Mr. Sanders had been beetling away on the other end of the kitchen island, julienning Swiss cheese, green onions, and uniform strips of red peppers. He was quartering small, sweet tomatoes, and spinning the torn Romaine dry. He plated that Chef’s Salad with artistic care and precision. Then he threw in a magical handful of healthy, anti-oxidant-rich blueberries. Genius.

What should have been the easiest of meals took us more than an hour, during which I walked close to 1000 steps. We then wandered out for a glass of wine during the golden sunset moment on the back porch. We watched for early fireflies, and the bunny who leapt through the fence the moment Luke poked his head outside. The birds were coming home, and the family of new wrens in the hydrangeas was eager to chatter away. There were some bats and swallows swooping by, and high above us a pair of turkey vultures swirled balletically in the currents of summery air. Blessedly, the temperature had dropped by 10 degrees. There was a cool breeze. We wandered back in for dinner, and it was good.

Trust me – don’t spend all your time in the kitchen. There is supposed to be a memorable Strawberry Moon this weekend. Take a dip. Read a book. Loll picturesquely in a hammock. Trail your fingers in some water. Turn on the sprinklers, and listen to the hissing summer lawns. Crank up the A/C in your VW and stock up on chips and popsicles.

Instead of eating chips straight out of a bag, be classy and add some celery stalks and Ritz crackers, and make a bowl of Crab Dip.

There is a reason why this is a popular dip – it tastes so good! Classic Lipton’s Onion Soup Dip: I always add a good couple of shakes of garlic powder and some red pepper flakes. Deelish.

Our friends at Food52 always know how to dress us up: Summer Dips

“Summer’s here, I’m for that
I got my rubber sandals, got my straw hat
Drinking cold beer, man, I’m glad that I’m here
It’s my favorite time of the year and I’m glad that it’s here”
—James Taylor