I'm gunna talk Summer. Steamy hot, makes every fragrant thing rise into your nose like Jesus's mom ascending into heaven, Summer.
It started yesterday when I stuck my nose into a box of white Virgina peaches at a farmer's market. The smell was intoxicating as every perfectly ripe fruit rose up and greeted me with the perfume of Summer. For me trips to this market are church. It is a communion with the season and nothing smells as good as the things in a farmer's market in the steamy season. I'm a fan of all the seasons and each has its foodie charms. But for take-your-clothes-off and pour a pitcher of lemonade mixed with ice tea all over your body (here you will have to put in the type of body you would like to see this drink streaming down)naked sensual joy, nothing beats Summer. It's the heat baby. I have my Summer rituals. I plant a container garden of herbs with 12 kinds of Basil from all over the world. (Yeah, I'm bragging here.) I go out and grab a handful of whatever I touch first when I cook in the Summer. This is key because I am an heirloom tomato fanatic. Thwarted by a lack of enough sun to grow my own, I fork over a percentage of my income each week to stay stocked up. I found this olive oil with a harvest date on it in Whole Foods, Prima something which costs as much as a bottle of good bourbon. It is worth it because when you pour it on the sliced tomatoes it also rises up to meet your nose. The fresher the better with white wines and olive oil. That's how I roll. Then I shower the tomato slices with too much basil. I say too much because I am not subtle about this. I am basil rich and I revel in it. Salt, pepper and here comes the airplane into the hanger. That is a magical combination that only comes together at this time of year. You can't do it in the Winter. That green basil substitute they grow in greenhouses can't hold a candle to the sharp flavor of the tiny leaves on my Greek Basil. And if you had to ask about the tomatoes you wouldn't have read this far. I associate eggplant with this season. I layer them with perorino and mozzarella with vadalia onions and slices of stale bread that the Tuscans use as an ingredient in lots of dishes. Sometimes I sacrifice some tomatoes and of course shower each layer with olive oil and fresh marjoram, oregano and basil. (Again not subtle, I want to taste them!) I might pour a can of crushed tomatoes over the top before topping it all with cheese. Bake it hot 400 to brown the edges in a glass pan. I want to see brown when I open the oven 30-40 minutes later. Let it set a bit and then carve away and let it wash over the plate because waiting didn't set it up as you hoped, it is one glorious mess. You can throw it on top of pasta if you want. Top with the best olive oil you can find Mario Battali style and some more fresh basil leaves and inhale. I mean breath baby, this is Summer so fill your lungs. I bought two kinds of corn, one white delicate and sweet and one mixed white and yellow on each cob which is not as sweet but has a butteriness to it. I eat one of each alternating bites. Each has been blessed with olive oil and salt and fresh ground pepper. I know the purists eat it with nothing and some people eat it with butter, which I love too. But I usually stock fantastic Irish butters in the Winter when I am craving heavier food so I don't have butter around in the Summer too often. I do have lard that I rendered myself but I would never be so indulgent to...oh man I am putting my lard butter on an ear tonight. It comes from special pigs who live in the woods and have a great life and one bad day, just like the rest of us. Only theirs is accomplished by a pro and we will have to make do with whatever random crap comes our way to snuff out our life. (Uncomfortable pause having alienated the vegetarians as well as people who prefer their food porn without a dash of existential death reality check vinaigrette. Sorry.) There are zukes and yellow squash including those funny ones that look like flying saucers and are firmer, have you seen them? You can put them in with the eggplant. But the money shot is the melons. Of course I am referring to lady's breasts pushing against the gauze-like fabric of Summer dresses...wait...sorry, I actually mean melons this time. Cantaloup that you can smell right through their patterned skin and of course the only fruit accused of being racist, watermelons. I prefer them with seeds because I am a snob and that goes against the yuppie trend for convenient everything. Plus my farmer's market owner claims they are sweeter cuz when you mess with genetics you get what you ask for and if you ask for no pits sometimes the sweet gene goes too. This is complete bullshit of course since I have had plenty of sweet seedless ones but I have to maintain my specialness somehow and if it isn't because I am growing in enlightenment then it has boiled down to watermelon preference. (Oh how the mighty have fallen!) Sitting on my balcony surrounded by my containers of herbs digging into a big slice of melon is Summer mass for me. So where you might ask is that edgy touch in this piece, the one that stands up and says "Curtis is a bluesman and a dangerous guy"? Alcohol to the rescue! Let's have a little drinky-poo shall we? My Summer drink is the Brazilian national cocktail the Caipirnha. As usual I have strong opinions. The alcohol is not rum, it is a special distillate from sugar cane,not molasses, called cachaca and is a clear liquor, in violation of my usual policy that if it hasn't been in a barrel long enough to turn brown, I'm not throwing it down. It has a character unlike any clear spirit that I am not a good enough writer to describe. I just found one that actually does spend 3 glorious months in XO cognac casks called Leblon and it is the bomb. It just softens the sharpness a little. Any cachaca is good but this is great. Let's get to work. You make a simple syrup (one to one) using a natural cane sugar with all its brown wonderfulness intact. You cut limes and squeeze out the juice then sprinkle sugar on the skins in a cup and muddle it with a wooden muddler, which is a wooden cylinder for crushing things in drinks. (If you don't have one yet use the human thigh bone left over from your last voodoo ritual.) This scrapes the skin and releases the oils into the drink. Mix it till it tastes right, sour-sweet with a kick, you will know when you get it right. You will know. Then if you have it, grab some leaves from two kinds of mint and muddle that in. I know this is the Mohito direction but take my word for it, what it lacks in authenticity it makes up for in sparkling minty vegetative bliss. Fresh mint makes it. Throw a few sprigs of peppermint on top so when you get to the bottom of your glass you can eat the leaves with the last few drops at the bottom. So to leave it on a high note I will add two final instructions. This drink is your first drink of the evening but no matter how much you want a second, switch to your usual drink of choice for the rest of the evening. Do NOT spend an evening drinking sugary drinks if you are over the age of 22 and not a cast member of the Jersey Shore. Make your first a heavy pour and savor it all, but do not listen to the devil in your head saying, "wow that was so great, a second will be better!" It wont. Pour yourself a bourbon or grab a beer or wine next. If I was manufacturing Curtis's Caipirnha glasses I would etch on the sides: "Enjoy your last Caipirnha of the night. You only get one so sip it then zip it." Secondly, if you are drinking this with someone you would like to see naked drenched in lemonade/ice tea mixture, you must kiss. Start with a warm mouth closed lip hug that lasts long enough for them to get the message that this is not your last. Alternating sips continue kissing while enjoying the combination of sweet, sour, mint, lime oil,cachaca kick and the warmth of someone you love or has negotiated a certain amount of time with you over the Internet. (Backpage.com still takes those listing since Craigslist wimped out) But even better if it is someone you love, off the meter, who you want to share the essence of Summer with, who is looking forward to a plate of sliced tomatoes covered in basil leaves, some sweet corn on the cob, and the eggplant casserole bubbling in the oven after you finish this drink together. You will melt together. It's the heat baby.
