Taking time to smell the flowers is more of a spring and
summer pleasure in the Midwest. In autumn, unless you like smelling mums (ugh),
splendor in the ordinary involves taking time to taste the harvest. And it does
take time. More time than bending over to stick my nose in a pink peony.
If tomatoes or beans are from my garden, I have taken time
to plant and nurture seeds; water, feed and weed soil; tend and trim plants; and
pick the produce. For vegetables purchased at farmers markets, a farmer has
paid with his time. But in autumn comes the payoff ~ tasting. And aside from
popping cherry tomatoes right from the vine into your mouth, tasting takes
time, too. Well, the prep does. Blending flavors, experimenting with cooking
techniques, and finally savoring ~ these are not for nights when you want a
quick and convenient meal.
After many disappointing harvests, this year I was SO
grateful for God’s bounty, I determined to be as faithful as possible with what
He’d blessed us with. Okay, I didn’t pick or use some tomatoes before they got
brown and mushy, but I did plan in advance how to make best use of almost everything from my own little
patch and from farmers markets. It was fun, very satisfying, and delicious, but
I have pretty much lived in my blue-and-white-checked apron for two months.
My first foray into gourmandise was ratatouille, which makes
use of tomatoes, zucchini, onions, garlic, bell peppers, eggplant, basil, and
parsley. Its stewlike consistency is soft on the palate, and the fact that all
these flavors have stewed together for a while makes for a rich taste
experience.
Next came cold tomato soup—gazpacho, which uses tomatoes,
onions, bell peppers, celery, and either zucchini or cucumber. I made two
batches, one with zucchini and one with cucumber. Since gazpacho is not cooked,
the blended flavors pop with freshness.
I took a break from blending and made a few combining-type
recipes. Think four-bean salad, roasted or grilled veggies, and zucchini and
tomato bake—or Tian Provençal.
Just plain beans and broccoli freshly picked and steamed were so tender and
sweet, they didn’t even need butter or salt to be gourmet treats. And two big pots of my very veggie soup jam-packed with every green, red, orange, and yellow edible plant under the sun. Every veggie under the sun is of course an exaggeration, but that's what it felt like in the hour it took me to chop all those crisp, colorful crops. On the upside, all those flavors and health benefits were glorious.
Winding down now—even my apron is tired. My last bursts of
energy for blended epicurean delights were tomato basil soup and butternut
squash-Macintosh apple soup ~ oh, and applesauce with vanilla and cinnamon. Now that our tomatoes and beans are long gone and
the final farmers market is tomorrow, I fondly remember this harvest season for
my investments of time and the pleasure we had in savoring those meals. Our
local grocery stores’ sales on frozen vegetables this week are timely, but I
will sure miss that locavore taste. I suppose nothing keeps me from concocting
ratatouille and gazpacho from store-bought produce, but my apron and I are
ready for a rest from harvest season’s culinary adventures.
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