I always love summer. It’s the season of sun, fun, and being outdoors – the months when the fields and bays give us their fullest gifts. Cooking at the Lewes Farmers Market this past weekend reminded me of that. The stalls were brimming with beautiful vegetables kissed by the summer sun: plump tomatoes, bright peppers, and herbs that seemed to hum with warmth. There is nothing quite like cooking with ingredients so alive and fresh, knowing they were harvested just hours before.
But as I stood there, I felt the gentle tug of the season shifting. The air carried a touch of crispness, the light a little lower, the evenings just cool enough to want a sweater. That transition is something I look forward to every year. When we follow the seasons, we’re in touch with time. And when you’re cooking great food, it’s about honoring these transitions, moving from summer’s bright flavors to the cozy depth of fall.
This summer, I was fortunate to enjoy so many excellent meals, both simple and grand. At a friend’s birthday barbecue, I had one of the best bites of the season: a slice of classic Delaware pretzel salad. It is less of a salad and more of a dessert – a sweet, salty layering of pretzels, cream, and fruit – that always has a way of stealing the show. That bite reminded me how food connects us to flavor, people, and memory.
And then there were moments of pure culinary artistry. On a trip to Philadelphia, I visited a newer restaurant called Emmet and had a truly grand meal. The first course was unforgettable: delicate sesame madeleines with blueberry jam, Vadouvan French curry butter, and caviar. It was exquisite, a perfect balance of texture, flavor, and imagination. Experiences like that remind me how food can ground us in tradition and lift us into new possibilities.
So, as we say goodbye to summer and welcome the chill of fall, I carry all those flavors with me – the sun-ripened tomatoes of the market, the pretzel salad of backyard gatherings, the refined luxury of sesame madeleines and caviar. Soon, the market tables will fill with pumpkins, squashes, and root vegetables, and I look forward to embracing what’s next. Because in food, as in life, everything is a transition, and that’s where the beauty lies.
