Yeah, I melt in the heat too, and I remember DC well and the humidity. Thanks for the JT song - a fave of mine along with many of his others. Interesting how death and loss first tears a big old hole in you, but after it heals, you're bigger than you were.
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "curtisdeltablues" <curtisdeltablues@...> wrote: > > Thanks for such a nice response Jim. Growing up in North Eastern PA where it > is pine tree cool, I will never have a Southerner's comfort with the heat of > my adapted state of VA. But the hours spent performing outside in the > Summers have given me some measure of physiological adjustment, although I > will always sweat my ass off like the Yankee I am! > > James Taylor nailed the feeling in this song, Slow Burning Love > > It was a hot and sultry day somewhere in early September. > I don't hardly remember the day, just the way the sun beat down upon the bay, > baby. > I did not even need to know your name, > it was, oh, so plain to see that you had eyes for me. > Halfway open, halfway closed, half-naked eyes for me, baby. > > It was a slow burning love, a fair-weather love affair. > A slow burning, smoldering love for you and I. > And like the sun on the edge of the Western sky, it died. > > Oh, the lights of the city were close at hand. I might just as well have been > another man. > You might just as well have been another girl. > It might just as well have been another world. > > It was a slow burning love, a fair-weather love affair. > A slow burning, smoldering love for you and I. > And like the sun on the edge of the Western sky, it died. > > Oh, slow burning love. You were smoking up that day, some kind of hot... > It was a slow burning love, a fair-weather love affair. > A slow burning, smoldering love for you and I. > And like the sun on the edge of the Western sky, it died. > > > > > > > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "whynotnow7" <whynotnow7@> wrote: > > > > Absolutely beautiful Curtis! Goes beyond mere description –food porn! You > > rocked it. I agree wholeheartedly this is a hit!! Thanks for an amazing, > > enjoyable, insightful, transcendent piece of writing. > > > > Bringing in the atmosphere of the southern summer brings me back instantly > > to my past week in NC, where the heat index hit 110 three days in a row. > > Like swimming through the atmosphere, hot, muggy, steamy, tropical, sweaty > > and real. Loved it...and thank god for air conditioning! > > > > > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "curtisdeltablues" > > <curtisdeltablues@> wrote: > > > > > > 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. > > > > > >
