Is it Still Summer?

the 39 days of August

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From Karyl’s Cook & Tell Newsletter (September 2008)

The first Monday in September has no business falling on the first day of the month. That makes it Labor Day, and Labor Day, if not the End of Everything, always feels like the end of something. In my view, it’s the end of summer. On Labor Day, summer may not be officially over, but it’s close enough. In the years that Labor Day falls on September first, I think August should be allotted thirty-nine days.

Labor Day always invites reflection, and I never turn down the invitation. People close their cottages and return to hometowns where most of them vote; where their kids go to school. The island store closes earlier in the evening; it’s a one-mile trip in the dark to pick up a pizza for supper. After all those long afternoons of bright sunshine when it seemed the day would never end and there was time for everything, it’s easy to miss teatime.

I’m OK with all that, as they say. I know that what’s coming to an end is making way for something else to begin—another season of delights and contentments, not as carefree, maybe, as its predecessor and quite a bit colder. But before summer gets away for good, I have a few questions.

Why does iced tea have to stop? Why not iced tea year round? I wonder about this every fall. All summer I make iced tea in a big glass jar set on the porch railing for six hours or so. Squeeze a lemon into it, stir in a scoop of sugar and I’m good for several days, maybe a week. Then Labor Day dawns, and it’s all over between iced tea and me until next summer. (I will not take the time to argue for the use of the word iced in the case of iced v. ice, nor will I allow myself to become distracted by the term ice cream.)

So, we have the ban on iced tea during cider and hot chocolate season. The prohibition on potato salad goes into effect at the same time. Why can’t I warm up to potato salad in February? Why does it never occur to me to devil an egg in December? I love deviled eggs. And another thing: Even though my freezer is stocked with blueberries, my appetite for blueberry pie shuts down when the season is over.

I wonder if folks who live in other places where it gets cold for a while—you will know what season I refer to; I’m avoiding the mention of its name—even think these thoughts. The miracle of clearly defined seasons here in New England and the greater Northeast—the crispness and color of autumn applies and maple trees, the niceness and nuisance of winter snowstorms, the rhubarb and asparagus that ripen every spring, the iced tea and potato salad of summer—has it all figured out for us: It’s not a bad thing to have to wait for good things.

The day before Labor Day, the gauge on the iced tea pitcher read almost empty. I reasoned that, rather that its being a violation of ethics, I could consider it merely a minor variation of my iced tea policy to make one last jug on this warm, summery day and let it last as long past Labor Day as it would.

I filled my jar with water and added six tea bags. Then I remembered the box of Russian black currant tea Amie had brought me from a trip to Alaska. In a masterstroke of unplanned relevance, I added one tea bag from Alaska to the brew.

Today, six days past Labor Day, there’s a glass and a half of iced tea left. It’s another summery day, and I’m tempted to make another jug. I may devil an egg in December just to see what happens, and the thought of making a blueberry pie to celebrate the first snow is beginning to sound rather charming to me.

But of one thing, rest assured. These lips will not touch a lobster roll until the Fourth of July, when summer returns to Maine.

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Amie’s Headnotes

I may have taken a vacation from writing during the last two weeks of August, but Camp Cook & Tell was in full swing up in the north woods. From the knotty pine-walled kitchen of the family lakeside camp, I tested four recipes on two very eager friends, subscribers and honorary sous chefs, Cheryl S and Linda T, who accompanied me on this end of summer four-day weekend. Two of the recipes were keepers: Loaded Breakfast Potato Skins and Lingering Summertime Linguine, this month’s featured dish. The two that didn’t make the cut? Hot Pickle and Cheese Cracker Dip, although oddly, we managed to eat most of it; and Lemon Fluff Bars, because I left the Jello in the fridge too long. We had priorities other than dessert. We were very busy lounging on the deck.  

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Lingering Summertime Linguine

Makes 4 Servings

• 1 lb. linguine (I used Barilla Protein Plus spaghetti and it was just fine)

• 5 large tomatoes, peeled & quartered

• 2 large garlic cloves, peeled

• 10 large basil leaves

• 1 t. salt

• Mucho freshly ground pepper

• ¼ c. olive oil

• Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Cook the pasta according to package instructions. Meanwhile, in food processor (preferably not the 25-year-old model we struggled with at camp), finely chop the garlic, then the basil, then add the peeled tomatoes. (Pro Tip: cut an X in the bottom of the tomato before blanching; the skins peel off easier. If you already knew this, brava! I haven’t quite graduated from rookie cook status, so everything is a pro tip). Process until chopped but still chunky.

Pour into a large bowl and add salt, pepper and oil. Stir well. Drain the cooked pasta and serve hot with the tomato sauce. Pass the Parmesan!

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Amie’s Endnotes

I’m still lingering on my island porch with a glass of sun tea and fresh mint from the herb garden, trying to squeeze out the last drops of summer before my return the desert Southwest. In this curious season somewhere between summer and fall, the once-vibrant meadows begin their slow transition to muted goldenrods. Out back, a few enthusiastic red leaves pepper the treetops. Storm doors are weeks, not months, away. Mornings require running tights and afternoons, a dive in the cove. The air is laden with the cool breath of departures: a bittersweet reminder of another summer, gone.

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Your Pantry Pals,

Amie & Karyl