Everything seems open and attainable come summertime. The days grow long, the produce grows unruly, sweetly pungent and psychedelic with color. Life is pregnant with possibility.
Point Reyes
Of course, in San Francisco, summer is all about delayed gratification. Much of the season (and in most parts of the city…) we suffer the mist and fog and wind until it breaks for our two-to-three week “Indian Summer” in late September and October. The farmers markets suddenly don’t feel like sad postcards from exotic, sunnier climes. We shed our sensible layers of clothing. Some head to the ocean for some almost-swimming. Some head to Dolores Park to revel in the orgy of Riviera-like sunbathing and dive bar bacchanalia. Others aim for Golden Gate Park and the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival which bustles with a heady blend of dust, banjos, sweat, patchouli and fried foods.
Even if the weather outside exercises its maddening, grey subterfuge, I can still indulge in summer through food. One of my favorite ways is with a bread salad. As with many great but simple dishes, this starts out with slightly stale bread. I like to crisp mine briefly in the oven with fresh herbs, salt and pepper. I have the great fortune of working for Mariquita Farm who farm like painter-scholars, growing produce as beautiful as it is nourishing, and summer shows the farm’s work at its most painterly zenith.
Summer in a dish
Culled mostly from my Mariquita ‘Mystery Box’ this bread salad has roasted eggplant, heirloom tomatoes, basil, radicchio, baby artichokes and roasted cauliflower, dressed simply with the best olive oil and vinegar, and topped with burrata. Even if I can’t see the sun, I can taste it, and sometimes that’s all I need to feel good.
