Better yet, let’s have my late grandmother be the judge. (Trust me, there was nothing she couldn’t judge.) Grandma Trudy enjoyed giving gifts – truly, she did. She chose my and my siblings’ birthday, holiday, graduation gifts with care. But the part she loved? I mean, lived for? That would be the actual giving of gifts, because immediately following the giving came the reciting of disclaimers.

If you don’t like it, it can go back. I like it. Don’t like the color? Gray is nice. I can get it in blue. Really, gray’s fine. If sweaters make you itch, it goes back. Sweaters are fine. So you know! Receipt is in the box.

I’m certain that if grandma were alive and food blogging, it would go something like this:

So, Cherry Tomato & Maytag Blue Beignets. What? Sounds fancy. Sounds like a lot of fat. If you don’t want fat, don’t eat it.

Tomatoes, I like tomatoes. Not too many tomatoes – heartburn. You don’t have heartburn? Good for you! Eat the tomatoes.


Who frys in summer? My doctor says no frying. And if you don’t like cooking don’t cook! Just order in. Wait – I’ve got menus in the drawer.


So, they’re pretty. But they remind me of – what are those things, in the bread, with the lettuce and funny sauce, on Dempster Street, in the round bread? I don’t know. They remind me of those.

I have to say, these were not bad, not bad, might even be okay – but vey schmeer, the work. Who needs work in the kitchen? Your grandpa, he makes French toast in the kitchen. He’s crazy. If you don’t like work, this recipe can go back.

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Makes 35-50, depending on tomato size. Serve warm or at room temperature as an appetizer, on a brunch buffet, or as a very fancy sports snack.

CHERRY TOMATO & MAYTAG BLUE BEIGNETS

2 1/4 teaspoons yeast
1/4 cup warm water

2 tablespoons vegetable shortening
1/3 cup water

4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/8 teaspoon white pepper, ground
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 egg, lightly beaten

small wedge Maytag Blue Cheese, about 5 oz. (Stilton would also work well)
35-50 cherry tomatoes, small size, in season (I used locally-grown Sun Golds)

vegetable oil, for frying
sea salt, white pepper and cayenne pepper, for rolling
chives or other herbs for garnish, chopped fine
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Make beignet dough: Place yeast in large bowl (if using stand mixer, bottom of mixer bowl) and pour 1/4 cup warm water over yeast to dissolve. Set aside until yeast is bubbling and activated. Place 1/3 cup water and vegetable shortening in small microwave-safe bowl. Microwave on high for 20-25 seconds, until shortening begins to melt. Remove and stir until shortening is completely melted.

Sift flour with sugar, sea salt and white pepper. Add melted shortening, buttermilk, and beaten egg to activated yeast. Whisk (or use paddle attachment, on mixer) together to combine. Add 2 cups of the flour mixture (by hand with a wooden spoon, by mixer with paddle on low) until a wet, sticky mass forms. Gradually add remaining 2 cups of flour to form a shaggy but fully combined dough. NOTE: Humidity makes a difference. If dough looks wet and sticky, add more flour. If dough begins to look dry and resists mixing, stop adding flour.

Roll and form beignets: Turn dough out onto lightly floured surface. Turn over once or twice to smooth – but don’t knead it. Roll dough into a large rectangle, 1/8 – 1/4″ thick. Using pastry or pizza wheel, mark 1 1/2″ x 1 1/2″ squares. Place one cherry tomato and a generous dab of blue cheese in center of each square. Pinch up corners of each square to meet, pressing edges together to seal, then roll beignet between palms to create a seamless ball. Place on a foil or parchment-lined sheet pan, and continue rolling filled beignets until done. NOTE: beignets may be formed up to one day in advance. Cover loosely with foil and store in refrigerator until ready to fry.

Frying beignets: Line a sheet pan or large plate with paper towels. Sprinkle the paper towels with an even, fine layer of sea salt, then large dashes of cayenne and white pepper, to taste.

In large pot or deep fryer, heat vegetable oil (at least a few inches) to approximately 360°. I recommend using a fry/candy thermometer to monitor oil temperature – too low and beignets will be heavy and greasy; too high and you’ll get dark outsides, raw insides. When oil is hot (test a small piece of dough – if it puffs to the top, it’s ready) drop the beignets into the pot one by one, working in small batches.  Beignets should puff and brown quickly, about 1-2 minutes. If beignets do not rise and puff, slightly raise heat. If beignets burn too fast, slightly lower heat.

When beignets are evenly gold-brown, remove from oil and drain on “seasoned” paper towel-lined pan. When you have several warm beignets on pan, pick up edges of paper towels, allowing beignets to roll and coat with seasoning. Continue frying batches of beignets until done, rolling each batch in seasoning (add more salt/cayenne/white pepper if necessary).

Serving: serve warm or at room temperature, up to four hours after frying. May garnish with chopped chives or other herbs, as desired.

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Summer Fest is an annual online celebration of good food and great ideas, featuring food and garden bloggers from around the globe. Every week we highlight a different seasonal ingredient – corn, stone fruit, tomatoes – and our guest bloggers share great recipes, stories and tips. You can participate by visiting these terrific blogs and leaving links or comments – and if you’re feeling particularly inspired, you can contribute a post of your own. Drop by A Way to Garden for details on how join the party.

THIS WEEK’S LINKS: TOMATOES

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef: Heirloom Tomato Tart with Parmesan Crust

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: What to do with slow-roasted tomatoes

Alison at Food2: Heirloom tomatoes

The FN Dish: Tyler’s Ultimate Tomato Salads

Margaret at A Way to Garden: More than one way to ripen a tomato

Gilded Fork: Celebrating summer lusciousness with a tomato dossier and recipes

Diane and Todd at White on Rice Couple: Sun-dried tomatoes (actually made in the sun!)

Paige at The Sister Project: 3 substantial, healthy, vegetarian tomatoey main dishes

Liz at the Cooking Channel: Easy Tomato Tart

Kelly at Just a Taste: Tomato Jam

Alexis at Food Network UK: The seven deadly tomato sins

Michelle at Healthy Eats: Top 10 Things to Do With Tomatoes

Alana at Eating From the Ground Up: Roasted Green Salsa (green zebras and tomatillos), and how late August makes her hurt for New Mexico

Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Chunky Garden Gazpacho with Flowered Corn Tortillas and Melissa Clark’s Tomato Tarte Tatin

Judy at Over a Tuscan Stove: Tomatoes, the Italian Way

Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Savory Tomato Crumble

Tigress in a Pickle: Over 50 ways to preserve tomatoes in jars

Cate at Sweetnicks: Loaded Bowl of Deliciousness

We see Jenna make dozens of pies, from banana cream to blackberry chocolate, and she names each pie to match her mood, names like “I Can’t Have No Affair Because It’s Wrong And I Don’t Want Earl To Kill Me Pie (vanilla custard with banana, hold the banana)” and “Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie (lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in).” Waitress is funny, intelligent, delicious and, best of all, features an elderly Andy Griffith as Old Joe, a sly, pie-loving philosopher. See it and you won’t be sorry. Possibly hungry, but not sorry.

In other news, I baked a pie – made for the wonderful cross-blog food event Summer Fest. I’m contributing to this week’s topic, Stone Fruits, and next week’s topic, Tomatoes.  Summer Fest 2010 features more wonderful food bloggers than ever (I had a swell time last year, too), listed at the end of this post. Be sure to visit them all today to check out their marvelous recipes, tips and ideas – and share some of your own.

What did I call my pie? Well, I wasn’t sure, at least not until late afternoon. Despite the presence of good pie, one never does know where the day will lead. Let’s take a look.

“Dopey Marilyn Doesn’t Have a Pitter, So Pal Melanie Helped Her Pit Cherries With A Knife Pie,” also known as “Melanie Was Real Mad At Her Landlord And Took It Out On The Bloody Cherries Pie.”

“Calls From Auto Insurance, Volleyball Coach, Dentist, Piano Teacher and Mom Tryin’ To Keep Me From Rolling Dough Pie.”

“Why Does Melanie Back Away Slow When I Start Cutting Dough Leaves? Pie”

“The Dog’s Breath Smells Like Ginger ‘Cause Half The Crunch Hit The Floor Pie”

and finally,

“Hungry Crabby Tired Back-To-School Josie Got A Fork And That Was All She Wrote Pie.”

CHERRY APRICOT PIE with GINGER-ALMOND CRUNCH

1. Make pie dough. Roll crust into pie plate as directed, and chill in refrigerator until ready to fill.

2. Make Ginger-Almond Crunch. Refrigerate until ready to use.

3. Make Cherry Apricot filling. Pour filling into prepared pie crust. Finish and bake as directed, using one of the options below.

If you’ve prepared a fluted pie crust: sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

If you’ve prepared for a leaf cutout crust: Remove leaf cutouts from refrigerator. Fill a small bowl with water. Using fingers, moisten the back of one leaf cutout and press it gently but firmly to pie dough rim, adhering to folded edge. Add remaining leaves in an overlapping pattern, moistening and pressing each one to form a natural “wreath” along the rim.

When leaf edge is complete, sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

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Pie Crust

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
3 tablespoons chilled vegetable shortening
1/4 cup ice water

Food processor method: Place flour and salt in processor bowl. Cut butter and shortening in pieces, and sprinkle over flour mixture. Pulse machine on/off to cut butter/shortening into flour, forming coarse crumbs and a few remaining chunks. Trickle ice water over mixture, pulsing until it just comes together as a rough, unformed dough, about 20-30 seconds. Wrap and chill, at least 1 hour.

On a lightly floured work surface, divide pie dough in half, patting each half into a flattened round. (Reserve one half to roll decorative leaf or other cutouts, if desired, or wrap and chill for another use.) Roll first half of dough into a round approximately 1/8″ thick, turning as you roll to prevent sticking. Round size should be slightly larger than your 9″ or 10″ deep-dish pie plate. Transfer round to pie plate, lightly pressing dough to fit, and patching small cracks or tears if necessary. Trim excess dough, leaving about 1″ of overhang.

For fluted rim pie crust: Gently fold overhang up and over pie plate rim, pressing dough with thumb and forefinger as you work around whole plate to form a decorative indented rim. Chill unbaked crust in refrigerator until ready to fill.

For leaf cutout pie crust: Trim overhang to 1/2″, then fold up and over pie plate, pressing into a flat rim all around. Roll second half of dough to 1/8″ thick. Cut leaf shapes 1) with a leaf-shaped cookie cutter or 2) cutting freehand with a paring knife. Cut slightly pointed ovals (irregular is fine!) then use tip of paring knife to lightly score “leaf veining” marks on each one. Leaves will be added to edge after pie is filled, so chill cutouts in refrigerator until ready to use.

Ginger-Almond Crunch

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
1/2 all-purpose flour
1/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/4 cup whole almonds, toasted
1/4 cup crystallized ginger chunks

Toast almonds in a skillet over medium heat, shaking until golden brown, about 5-6 minutes, OR toast in 350° oven on an ungreased baking sheet, about 10 minutes. Cool almonds completely before using.

Place toasted almonds and crystallized ginger in food processor bowl. Pulse machine on/off until you get small, coarse pieces. Add butter, flour, and brown sugar to bowl. Using on/off pulse again, process together into even, large crumbs. Transfer mixture to a small bowl, and refrigerate until ready to use.

Cherry Apricot Filling

1 1/2 pounds firm ripe apricots, pitted and quartered, about 4 cups
1 1/2 pound cherries, pitted
1 teaspoon lemon juice
3/4 cup sugar
3 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon pure almond extract

In large bowl, gently toss cut apricots and pitted cherries together with lemon juice. In small bowl, combine sugar and cornstarch. Sprinkle mixture over apricots and cherries, turning to coat, then add vanilla and almond extracts, lightly tossing until just mixed. Follow directions above for filling and baking pie.

Summer Fest is an annual online celebration of good food and great ideas, featuring food and garden bloggers from around the globe. Every week we highlight a different seasonal ingredient – corn, stone fruit, tomatoes – and our guest bloggers share wonderful recipes, stories and tips. You can participate by visiting these terrific blogs and leaving links or comments – and if you’re feeling particularly inspired, you can contribute a post of your own. Drop by A Way to Garden for details on how join the party.

THIS WEEK’S LINKS: STONE FRUIT

Sara at Cooking Channel: Savory Stone Fruit recipes.

Todd and Diane of White on Rice Couple: Riesling Poached Pluots.

Margaret at A Way to Garden: What is stone fruit, anyhow? Plus: Clafoutis batter revisited.

Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Ginger and Vanilla Poached Peaches.

The FN Dish: Paula’s Perfect Peach Cobbler.

Alison at Food2: Peachy Party Foods.

Kelly at Just a Taste: Peaches & Cream Cupcakes.

Liz on Healthy Eats: Puttin’ Up Peach Pickles, Compote and More.

Food Network UK: How to Poach a Peach.

Judy of Divina Cucina: Chocolate Amaretti Baked Apricots.

The Gilded Fork: dossier & recipes featuring peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums, cherries, almonds, coconuts.

Cate at Sweetnicks: Blueberry Peach Smoothies.

Tara at Tea & Cookies: Making Peach Jam.

Alana at Eating From the Ground Up: Stone fruit slump.

Caron of San Diego Foodstuff: grilled peach parfait and coconut peach gazpacho.

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef: gluten-free peach-blueberry buckle.

Paige at The Sister Project: A Summer Fruit Whatchamacallit (not a pie, not a crisp, but delicious).

Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Cherry Apricot Pie with Ginger-Almond Crunch.

Tigress in a Jam: nectarine preserve with summer savory and white pepper.

I was too summer-lazy to measure. Use my guestimates as a guideline, and know your fruit-eating crowd.

1-2 lbs. fresh fruit, may include:

1 lb. strawberries, hulled and halved
1 pint blueberries, picked over
1 small seedless watermelon, rind removed, chunked or scooped with melon baller
1 medium cantaloupe, rind removed, chunked or scooped with melon baller

can also use raspberries, blackberries, honeydew or other muskmelons

1 – 2 tablespoons powdered sugar, to taste
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
small bunch fresh mint, about 1 dozen large leaves, torn or roughly chopped

Place prepared fruit in large bowl. Sift powdered sugar over fruit, tossing to coat. Add balsamic vinegar and mint, tossing once more to coat. Serve immediately or refrigerate, up to four hours. (I prefer to refrigerate 30 minutes – 1 hour, allowing fruit to steep in flavor.)

It came easy to me, but editors warned of a common fault: for rhyming cards, they said, not so much “moon June spoon.” Meaning avoid the common rhymes, and don’t go for easy sound. Standard goods like “you, do, blue, and new” also made the list; what was a sappy writer to do? Only so many words convey feeling and rhyme like sugar, and let’s face it, there’s no me-to-you without you. So I’d use them anyway, re-arranged and refreshed enough to slip an editor’s eye, and they sold, sold like candy, proving that as long as it sounds pretty, people will hear whatever they want.  A moon that loves you in June pleases; blue without you, nothing I can do?  Like honey.  And my friends, a man who buys cards on the sweet side will not do better than honey.

So. Why are we talking spoons in June and sending the very best?  Because it’s summer, and even if you couldn’t see the wide bright sky or smell sun off the pavement, you’d hear it.  We all have those sounds that ring summer, the slap of wet towels and flip-flops and no thoughts at all.  What are yours?  Mull it over, and while you do, try a few warm-weather sweets, pulled exclusively from the archives for your breezy dessert pleasure:

Key Lime Tarts say crashing waves to me.

Bowls inside or on the porch? Peach-Pecan Cobbler swings like a screen door.

Sizzling Banana Sundaes with Salted Chocolate Pecans. Now with built-in sizzle.

For pure June-moon bliss I’d also point you to Bumbleberry Pie and Good Kansas Limeade. Now – cicadas, campfires, bike bells. What’s your summer sound?

Anyway – just two more reruns and I’ll back and simmering, more stewing than ever. As always, thanks for hanging around.

This caramelized little story is from last July; as I recall, the combination of sugared bananas, chocolate, ice cream and pecans set off a round of summer drooling. Original post found here.

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July is an upside-down month – as in steaming outside, freezing inside. It’s too hot to cook, but I’m starving. I couldn’t eat another bite, but…a little something cold for dessert?

Oh, summer desserts. With a damp ponytail and flip-flops, you’d think I’d keep it simple, but no. That scoop of specked vanilla, it’s purity in a bowl. It needs nothing more, but it’s a backdrop-in-waiting; ice cream clearly welcomes the company of fruits and candies and other sweet bits.

My family’s always a little whacked in the heat, but if a gallon of ice cream appears we turn positively nuts – and bananas, too.

I have a seasonless weak spot for bananas that was sealed long ago. Right after college I worked as an editor by day and in a bookstore at night, often skipping dinner but never missing a snack. By the 8 pm break I’d bolt from the store, run three doors down to Love’s Frozen Yogurt and demand sliced bananas over Double Chocolate Dutch. Seven minutes of frozen peace, a one-minute trudge back to work.

Ever get on such a jag you think you might never get off? That whole year I set my watch by frozen yogurt. Standing at the register at 7:58, I was sure that if I didn’t taste chocolate and bananas soon, I’d poof into flame and take the book browsers with me.

And that, my friends, is a jag.

We tend to replace little obsessions with new ones. I no longer require two quick scoops at eight, but I still love chocolate and bananas, especially in summer, when they’re so sweet together they’re practically going steady.

Now, at a darn-close 100 degrees, I’d be crazy to sizzle bananas and dip pecans – but a few minutes at the stove won’t keep me from hot banana caramel and salty chocolate nuts. Which brings us to another upside-down summer thought: I do want to go the pool…I do not want to put on that suit.

Caramelized Banana Sundaes with Salty Chocolate Pecans

vanilla bean ice cream

2-3 bananas, slightly green, not quite ripe
3/4 cup light brown sugar
2 tablespoons butter
dash of cinnamon

1 cup pecan halves
semi-sweet chocolate, about 3 oz
sea salt, for sprinkling

salty chocolate pecans:

Place semi-sweet chocolate in small microwave-safe bowl and use microwave to melt, heating at intervals of no more than 35 seconds each. Remove from microwave after each interval, two or three times, stirring to smooth. Dip each pecan halfway in melted chocolate, and place on a parchment or wax-paper lined sheet. Before chocolate sets, sprinkle chocolate pecans with sea salt. Place in refrigerator to set before serving.

caramelized bananas:

Slice bananas in thick chunks. Place a large non-stick frying pan over medium-high heat – when hot, sizzle one tablespoon of butter for a few seconds, then add bananas.

Do not stir or move bananas for about 30 seconds; allow to brown. Use a heat-proof spatula to turn bananas over, then add brown sugar, cinnamon, and remaining tablespoon of butter. Shaking pan to keep bananas moving, cook about one minute more, until sugar is melted and bananas are caramelized, but still solid. Remove from heat and serve.

Scoop ice cream into bowls. Top with generous amounts of warm caramelized bananas and chocolate pecans. Get out of the way fast, and serve.

serves 2-4, depending on serving size

His today’s-today stance makes me a target. He is especially fond of letting me know how fortunate he’s been to hear every tale of my family, friends, dogs, the pink curtains in first grade and every bite I’ve eaten since 1985. He likes to say there’s nothing he doesn’t know – no story he hasn’t heard, no tale untold, and this worries me. If I run out of material, what will we talk about in the nursing home? I’ve been thinking of doing stupid things just for the anecdotes. I need to keep him on his toes.

It’s not that he doesn’t remember; the man recalls every gift he ever gave me and every taco, sancho, and burrito he’s ever known – it’s just that he doesn’t need to. His memories live in lockdown, a place I don’t understand, a place that clearly lacks soft lights and throw pillows. So it’s all the more shocking to know there’s one memory that routinely escapes, one tableau he repeats – happily repeats, a terrible man-sin – and that memory is Key West.

I’ve heard it many times. The station wagon rumbling south in the night, a young sleepy Greg sprawled in back – the back back, no seat belts required – on a Snoopy sleeping bag, moving toward palm trees, dreaming of the nation’s southernmost spot. His dad drove while his mom likely dozed, and he – still an only child, the space all his own – was allowed to roll around with snacks and stare at the stars. Down through the dark, wheels below, we drove all the way to Key West.

We’ve shared key lime pie a hundred times, including one overpriced slice with two tourist forks right on Duval Street. But whether I make it or buy it, it’s one of the few bites I know – certain tacos, another – that he’ll willingly link to the past. He’ll say how great it was in the wagon, how it was such a sweet setup with that sleeping bag, and for one brief, backwards moment we are almost, but not quite, saying things the same way. Then we clear plates, and today’s today.

Good thing that today is nice, too, and that after 15 years you don’t need a misty mind-meld to stay together. But there’s a kind of tricky filling to it all and sometimes, it’s good to put the right fork in the right hand on the right day.

There is never, ever a bad day with key limes, the happiest sprite on the tree. You can make the classic whole pie, or mess around like I do and make little tarts. These are pucker-up good, creamy and nicely individual – so everyone can take their own sweet time at the plate. To each his own, right?

Key Lime Pie (or tarts)

There are a million Key Lime recipes out there, but all you really need is a simple mix of lime juice, eggs and the magic of sweetened condensed milk – the more creative bits are up to you. I’ve found that this recipe, from Cook’s Illustrated The New Best Recipe book (published 2004, America’s Test Kitchen) hits the perfect texture and rich, tart taste. Make the whole pie or use 3″ tart rings to make minis.

Note: prepare the filling for the pie first, so it can thicken during the time it takes to prepare the crust.

Lime filling

4 teaspoons grated zest and 1/2 cup strained juice from 3-4 Persian limes (or up to a dozen Key limes)
4 large egg yolks
1 (14-oz.) can sweetened condensed milk

Graham cracker crust

9 graham crackers (5 ounces) broken into rough pieces
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and kept warm
optional: 1 teaspoon cinnamon

Whipped cream topping

3/4 cup chilled heavy cream
1/4 cup (1 ounce) confectioner’s sugar

optional garnish:

1/2 lime, sliced paper-thin and dipped in granulated sugar

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The filling: Whisk the zest and yolks in a medium nonreactive bowl until tinted light green, about 2 minutes. Beat in the condensed milk, then the juice; set aside at room temperature to thicken (about 30 minutes).

The crust: Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 325 degrees.

In a food processor, process the graham crackers until evenly fine, about 30 seconds (you should have 1 cup crumbs). Add the sugar (plus optional cinnamon) and pulse to combine. Continue to pulse while adding the warm melted butter in a steady stream; pulse until the mixture resembles wet sand.

For Whole Pie: Transfer the crumbs to a 9-inch glass pie plate and evenly press the crumbs into the plate, using your thumbs and a 1/2 cup measuring cup to square off the top of the crust. Bake the crust until it is fragrant and beginning to brown, 15-18 minutes; transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.

For Individual Tarts: Use any size mini tart pan, from 1-3 inches wide, to make individual tarts. Using the prepared graham cracker crumb mixture, place enough crumbs into each mini pan to pat down bottom and press up sides, creating a firm crumb “wall.” Place tarts on sheet pan and bake as directed above, until just fragrant and beginning to brown. Cool before filling.

To Fill: For whole pie, pour the lime filling into pie crust (for mini tarts, fill to approximately 2/3 full). Bake until the center is set yet wiggly when jiggled, 15-17 minutes. Return pie (or tarts) to a wire rack, and cool to room temperature. Refrigerate until well chilled, at least 3 hours. Pies or tarts can be covered directly with lightly oiled plastic wrap and refrigerated for up to one day.

For Topping: Up to 2 hours before serving, whip the cream in the chilled bowl of an electric mixer to very soft peaks. Adding the confectioner’s sugar 1 tablespoon at a time, continue whipping to just-stiff peaks. Decoratively pipe the whipped cream over the filling or spread whipped cream evenly with a rubber spatula. Garnish with sugared lime slices, if desired, and serve.

I don’t even try growing cucumbers. My vegetable thumb is so not green that I’d probably kill even summer’s most overstayed guest. Obviously I’m free to love them precisely because I don’t grow them. When green-jean friends shove their extras at me (“no, I insist. I’ll pay you.”) I’m happy to chat about salad and soups and frothy mousse. They’re just happy I’m holding the bag.

When your cuke overfloweth, here’s a quick and satisfying way to use them up. It’s an easy chopped salad with a great big punch – more than just creamy-cold-crunchy, it helps you suck up a lot of cucumbers. Bring a bowl to a barbecue and watch them praise not just your stellar side, but your astounding powers of cucumber disposal.

Cucumber-Tomato Salad with Feta

(for a crowd)

3 giant cucumbers
2 pints cherry tomatoes
1 pound feta cheese
1 bunch green onions
grated zest of 1 small lemon
extra-virgin olive oil
red wine vinegar
salt and ground pepper
parmesan or pecorino romano cheese, for grating

Wash and dry cucumbers, then halve lengthwise. Cut in half lengthwise again, then chop crosswise into even chunks. Place cucumber pieces in large bowl.

Remove stems from and halve cherry tomatoes. Add tomatoes to cucumber bowl. Chop ends off green onions and then chop entire bunch into small pieces. Add green onions to cucumber bowl, then add grated lemon zest. Lightly toss the vegetables together.

Crumble feta cheese over salad, then add olive oil and red wine vinegar to taste, using more vinegar than oil. Season with salt and ground pepper; toss all ingredients together to coat. Refrigerate to chill; before serving, grate parmesan or pecorino romano over salad.

Serves 6-10 (know your crowd!) as a side dish. Double (or halve) as necessary.

When Josie was little I catered from home, often baking through the night while she slept. We had central air but the space was tiny – room for me, an oven, and a dozen hot pans. Mixing cakes alone at two a.m., I figured what the hell, and worked in my secret summer uniform – a sports bra and Gap shorts. Why not? It was just me and the cake pans and Nick at Nite, and Nick wasn’t looking. There was a big kitchen window, but not much to see: just a girl in lobster-print boxers and oven mitts, whisking and dancing to Ricky Ricardo’s drums.

Maybe all those hot kitchens fried my common sense – because if I want pot roast and it’s 97 in the shade, I’m still making the pot roast. At least this one tastes like the season – I had some lovely key limes and messed with Caribbean flavors. It seemed more…reasonable. The dish would cook for hours but it would be a tropical pot roast, right? Cuba Libres, white sands, ocean breezes?

Well…the mirage not so much, but it did taste great. The key limes really do a job on the meat; it’s a tangy, unusual roast that tastes even better the next day. We rounded dinner out with sauteed bananas and black beans with rice. I say if you can take the heat, stay in the kitchen – just long enough to squeeze limes, set a timer, slam the oven door and run.

Key Lime Pot Roast

one chuck arm roast, about 2.5 pounds

light brown sugar
salt and ground pepper
cayenne pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil

dried oregano
6-7 key limes
(if you can’t get true key limes, try adding a few dashes of red wine vinegar to regular limes)

A large Dutch-oven style pot with a tight-fitting lid works well for this recipe; you can also use a roasting pan, tightly covered with aluminum foil.

Preheat oven to 375 F.

Cut and juice the limes, removing any seeds. Keep both the juice and the empty lime halves.

Rub the meat with an evenly generous amount of: brown sugar, salt, ground pepper and cayenne pepper.

Warm the pot and heat the olive oil over medium-high, just to sizzling. Add the roast and sear both sides evenly, only turning once or twice, until both sides are browned to a dark, caramelized color.

Turn off heat. Add 3 cups of water to lime juice, then pour both juice and lime halves over the meat. Sprinkle the meat generously with oregano. Cover with lid (or tightly with foil) and transfer pot to preheated oven.

Bake for approximately 3 hours. Check once or twice while cooking; if juices have completely evaporated, add 2-3 cups of water, white wine or orange juice. When meat is fork-tender, remove from oven. Discard roasted lime halves (delicious, but not easy to eat) .

Cool meat until safe to handle, then remove roast from the pan. On a cutting board, shred meat roughly with a fork. Return shredded meat to pan and spoon juices over meat; cover and return to the oven for approximately 20 more minutes, until completely tender. Remove from oven and serve, with pan juices, over rice and beans.

Serves 3-4

For even stronger flavor, I prefer making this one day ahead and letting it steep, covered, in the refrigerator. Reheat and serve – or, if you’re like me, stand in the kitchen and eat it cold. It’s summer, right?

Oh, summer desserts. With a damp ponytail and flip-flops, you’d think I’d keep it simple, but no. That scoop of specked vanilla? Purity in a bowl. It needs nothing else, but it’s such a beautiful backdrop. Ice cream clearly welcomes the company of fruits and candies and other sweet bits.

My family’s always a little whacked in the heat, but if a gallon of ice cream appears we turn positively nuts – and bananas, too.

My seasonless weak spot for bananas was sealed long ago. Right after college I worked as an editor by day and in a bookstore at night, often skipping dinner but never missing a snack. By the 8 pm break I’d bolt from the store, run three doors down to Love’s Frozen Yogurt and demand sliced bananas over Double Chocolate Dutch. Seven minutes of frozen peace, one minute of trudge back to work.

Ever get on such a jag you think you might never get off? That whole year I set my watch by frozen yogurt. Standing at the register at 7:58, I was sure that if I didn’t taste chocolate and bananas soon, I’d poof into flame and take the book browsers with me.

And that, my friend, is a jag.

We tend to replace little obsessions with new ones. I no longer require two quick scoops at eight, but I still love chocolate and bananas, especially in summer, when they’re so sweet together they’re practically going steady.

Now, at a darn-close 100 degrees, I’d be crazy to sizzle bananas and dip pecans – but a few minutes at the stove won’t keep me from hot banana caramel and salty chocolate nuts. Which brings us to another upside-down summer thought: I do want to go the pool…I do not want to put on that suit.

Caramelized Banana Sundaes with Salty Chocolate Pecans

vanilla bean ice cream

2-3 bananas, slightly green, not quite ripe
3/4 cup light brown sugar
2 tablespoons butter
dash of cinnamon

1 cup pecan halves
semi-sweet chocolate, about 3 oz
sea salt, for sprinkling

salty chocolate pecans:

Place semi-sweet chocolate in small microwave-safe bowl and use microwave to melt, heating at intervals of no more than 35 seconds each. Remove from microwave after each interval, two or three times, stirring to smooth. Dip each pecan halfway in melted chocolate, and place on a parchment or wax-paper lined sheet. Before chocolate sets, sprinkle chocolate pecans with sea salt. Place in refrigerator to set before serving.

caramelized bananas:

Slice bananas in thick chunks. Place a large non-stick frying pan over medium-high heat – when hot, sizzle one tablespoon of butter for a few seconds, then add bananas.

Do not stir or move bananas for about 30 seconds; allow to brown. Use a heat-proof spatula to turn bananas over, then add brown sugar, cinnamon, and remaining tablespoon of butter. Shaking pan to keep bananas moving, cook about one minute more, until sugar is melted and bananas are caramelized, but still solid. Remove from heat and serve.

Scoop ice cream into bowls. Top with generous amounts of warm caramelized bananas and chocolate pecans. Get out of the way fast, and serve.

serves 2-4, depending on serving size

We will spend the night there, happy to swim, eat fudge, and watch the aerial bridge rise and fall in the dark. The next morning we’ll take off on Highway 61 for a three-hour drive to the northern lodge we love, and on the way up, passing fish stands and agate shops, we’ll roll through Two Harbors and stop at Betty’s Pies.

We share the Betty’s tradition with thousands of families, fishermen, leaf-peepers, canoers, kayakers, truck drivers and rock hounds. They all love Minnesota, they all love pie, and since 1958 they’ve sat at Betty’s counter for slices of Bumble Berry, 5-Layer Chocolate and Lemon Angel pie.

Now I am a most dedicated pie eater, but the slices are huge, and often follow a late Betty’s breakfast of scrambled eggs, thick ham and fresh-baked raisin rye toast. I think of the road ahead, I check my purse for Maalox. I look at the daily pie board before breakfast, weigh the consequences, and decide.

But my daughter – well, Josie has jackrabbit metabolism and her father’s iron stomach. It seems impossible, but we created an even more devout servant of the pie than me. As the screen door slams behind her I yell “Wait, look at the lake!” but she’s already inside, scanning the board for raspberry, huckleberry, every berry.

At the table, I encourage a split – come on, the slices are so big - until she gives in, sulking. After that, each bite is watched and the forks move fast. This much-hated splitting makes me the pie Scrooge every time.

Except one time.

I’d been hearing some vague backseat crabbiness since we packed up and left Duluth that morning. I’m bored, I’m hungry, I’m hot. I’m cold, I’m bored, I’m sitting on something. I flicked my eyes up from my book. Greg was staring at the road, he’d heard nothing. I’m sitting on something.

“No, you’re not.” I kept reading.

“I am sitting on something. I am sitting on something and it’s bothering me.” Now she was a faint buzz.

“No, you are not.”

This went on. Sitting, bothering, blah blah blah. Now and then I’d humor her.

“Maybe it’s a ponytail holder.” No. “An eraser.” No. Now crabbing in earnest, she says it feels like a rock. Bothering me!

Then, silence. “I got it.” Whew!

“It looks like a diamond.”

Mm. Boy, the trees are tall. Greg, still in highway hypnosis.

She keeps at it. “It looks like…I think it’s a diamond.”

“Mm-hm. A diamond, under your shorts. Whatever.”

I thought nothing of it for exactly six more minutes – and then a wild thought told me to look at my hand. Wedding band – check. Engagement ring –

I whipped off my seat belt and spun around. On my finger, the engagement ring I’d worn since 1992 sat prongless and empty – but in Josie’s little palm, glinting with cartoon sunlight, was my diamond.

“It was a diamond, it was a diamond, I TOLD you.” And it was. Somewhere between Lawrence, Kansas and Duluth, Minnesota, the little rock had taken a tumble. It could have been on the highway, under the wheels or at the bottom of a rest stop toilet, but it was in my daughter’s vindicated, beaming hand.

I was so happy. So happy that something unpleasant, something I didn’t even know had happened – a vacation-ruiner, an insurance hassle and certainly a weeper – was already solved. We were all three smiling and gaping at the tiny miracle of Josie sitting on a diamond.

I tucked it into a zipped pocket of my makeup bag, which I never touch by the lake. It would sit there safe, and all week I was nervous, like a nervous jewel thief – but we had a bang-up time, starting right after the incident with a stop at Betty’s Pies.

Josie’s reward was humble, but divine – her very own, no-split, enormous piece of Bumble Berry. That’s Betty’s special four-berry mix, a juicy heap under flaky crust. Such a small prize – but who doesn’t love the halo of good deeds, the thrill of being right, and a great big piece of lakeside pie?

Bumble Berry Pie
from The Original Betty’s Pies Favorite Recipes Cookbook

pie dough, enough for a 10-inch two-crust pie

1 cup blueberries

1 cup blackberries

1 cup raspberries

1 cup strawberries

1 cup sugar

5 tablespoons flour

2 tablespoons corn starch

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 375 F.

Line a 10-inch pie pan with crust.

Combine the sugar, flour, corn starch and cinnamon, and mix well. Lightly mix in the fresh fruit and pour into the pie shell.

Dot with butter and cover with a top crust. Prick the crust and sprinkle with sugar.

Bake for about 50 minutes in a regular oven, about 35 in a convection oven; until juices are thick and bubbling from golden crust.