A TART Recommendation

A friend sent me two artisan vinegars. (Thank you, Steven!) Christina Crawford makes these special elixirs in Brooklyn. They inspire innovation not only in salads but in drinks, vegetables and sauces. Check out more info in these articles:

Sans Soufre

Bon Appetit

So far, a small hit of the celery perked up a quick chicken stir fry, and the grape vinegar made a splash in a salad of off-the-vine heirloom tomatoes, peaches, plums, lettuces, and burrata. My new neighbor brought over jars of fig jam, so little toasted baguette slices topped with that made the salad a fine intro to a birthday dinner for a friend. Next, I think cucumber salad will be bounced up a notch with a hit of the celery.

Since the vinegars are made in limited batches, you might have to wait for the next release. Worth the wait.

Suddenly, we’re on the downside of August. All the fruits of summer are pouring in, especially now in the South, CORN. Corn everything. For grilled corn, a compound butter is just so good. Two sticks of soft butter, juice of 1/2 lime, salt, a minced shallot or garlic clove. Just mix and chill. And nothing looks happier than a cast-iron skillet full of corn off the cob, diced red and green bell peppers, chopped onion, garlic cloves, salt, pepper, a handful of scissored basil and parsley, pepper flakes (if you like). Sauté gently in evoo, and finish with a couple of tablespoons of butter. This in my hometown always accompanied grilled chicken or steaks in summer and remains a family favorite.

Ciao for now. I’ll leave with this ode to tomatoes by the Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda.

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it’s time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.