Nostalgic moment

After a busy couple of months, I am (finally) starting to think about summer vacation. Malcolm has been out of school since the beginning of May, but it isn't really summer yet. Not really. Since a trip overseas isn't in the cards this year, there is really only one place I want to go, one of the rituals of my childhood that I want to share with him - backpacking on the Olympic Peninsula.

This is the place I think of as part of home, even though I usually only went there once a summer for three or four days at a time. It is my happy place that I go to in my mind when I need to be somewhere else. And it is the one thing I miss most, living way out here in Arkansas. Yes, I miss my parents and childhood home and all that, but I can keep in touch with them, I visit them regularly. The beach is much harder to get to - a ferry ride, a several hour drive (long stretches of which used to be on gravel roads), a hike through the woods. It isn't somewhere you can just drop in on a whim in the afternoon, like a city park. The journey is part of the experience, part of the shedding and then regaining of normal life that makes it so special.

So this summer, I am hopeful that I can take Malcolm there, to see the endless stretch of the ocean at the edge of the continent, to play in the cold ocean, to get sand in his hair, toes, teeth, ears. To eat simple camping food around a fire after a day of running and hiking and digging. To see the stars without the lights of the city dimming them.

Running in the summer, in Arkansas

Here I am - proof of life!

What you probably can't tell from this picture is that it was in the mid-80s, with about the same level of humidity. I was dripping wet, literally. Not a dry spot on me. That is how most of my runs have been this summer. For a week or two, it wasn't blazing hot, but it was raining non-stop, and I got just as wet. Can I tell you something? I am so over summer. At the beginning of the summer, I was all proud of myself for running in the heat, playing tennis in the heat - it made me feel, well, superior. I was out doing, when so many people were inside, sitting. Now? I am just tired of being so damn wet, of my clothes needing to be wrung out after a run or a tennis match. I can still handle it, but the feeling of superiority has been replaced by a sigh of resignation. If I want to do the things I love, I have to endure.

Thank goodness fall is coming. Oh, true fall in Arkansas is still a ways off, but there is a hint of a cool breeze in the mornings now. The temperatures at only in the low 90s during the day, and it isn't quite warm enough for the pool some days. (That in itself could be an entire blog post - when I was a kid, any day the pool was open was a day warm enough to go swimming. Now, it has to be at least 85 for me to feel the need to get in.)

Anyway, I have been running in the summer in Arkansas so often because I signed up for my second half-marathon at the end of October, and I need to be prepared! I almost signed up for three halfs in a month, but reason kicked in and settled on one. My hope is that all this heat training will make the fall weather seem so glorious and easy to run it that I can break my PR from the spring. So, c'mon Fall!

Let's revisit my summer with fruit

The weather is finally turning cold here in Arkansas, and a polar vortex is threatening later this week. The leaves are falling (and falling and falling. Turns out some oak trees are marcescent, which means they retain some of their dead leaves all winter, or as it plays out in our backyard, about half the leaves take two months to fall in October and November, and the other half stay on until March, when I have to rake all over again.) Anyway, as I was going to say, before I interrupted myself, it is getting cold, and while I am perfectly happy with that, it seems like a good time to revisit some of the lovely warm days of summer, and the food I never got around to showing you.

Oh, heavenly blueberries!

This year, for the first time since I left Washington 13 years ago, I found a farm offering u-pick blueberries. As I have mentioned before, my summers growing up were full of fresh berries, and one of the things I have missed dreadfully over the years is berry picking. It is one of the experiences of my childhood that I most wanted to be able to share with Malcolm, and I feared it would only happen on the occasional trip back to Washington.

Malcolm, with one of his favorite foods

 I have never been so happy to be wrong. Wye Mountain Flowers and Berries is about 45 minutes away from us, and they have blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. We went twice and picked all three. Malcolm caught on immediately, and while there was a certain amount of berry eating, a la Blueberries for Sal, he actually got some in the bucket too.

Blackberry jam

We had so many berries that we couldn't eat them all right away, so I did what any sensible person would do and made jam. Blackberry jam (above), blueberry jam, and even blueberry ginger jam (recipe from a fellow Whitman Alumna's great canning blog). Add these to the strawberry jam I made earlier in the year, and we might just make it to next summer.

Pickle coins!

I made pickles around the same time as well, although we still have some from last year. I can't help it - when cucumbers are so easily available and so easy to preserve, I sort of get carried away.

Mid-way through the process

After berry season ends in mid-to-late June, pesto season is not far away. I have always planted basil in my garden, and I usually have enough to make pesto. The last couple of years, I have had so much basil that not only do I make pesto by the quart, I have enough to dry and freeze for other cooking uses as well.

Mmm, pesto.

Last year, I decided to use pistachios instead of pine nuts, and this year I used cashews. Both are delicious alternatives if you are one of those people who have an allergic reaction to pine nuts. We usually freeze our pesto and use it all winter long, both on pasta and as a pizza sauce. So much better than the stuff you buy in jars at the super market!

The second box of the season, Golden Delicious

And of course, how could it be fall without a box of apples, or rather two, 40 pound boxes of apples, in my kitchen? I didn't manage to score enough peaches this year to preserve any - not sure if it just wasn't a good year for them, or if I just didn't try hard enough (probably the latter, since I do know an orchard that does u-pick), but I made up for it with the apples.

My apple processing workspace.

You'd think that after spending several days peeling, slicing and dehydrating apples, not to mention several pies, including a *real* double crust apple pie, I would have had enough of apples. You'd be wrong. I immediately bought a second box, and am only restraining myself with difficulty from getting a third of a different variety.

I was mightily proud of this pie. Usually I go for a more rustic (read, easier) sort of pie.

And that concludes my tour through my summer cooking. Now it is fall, and time to bake warm bread and cookies and pumpkin goodies. Wonder what I will make next?