Still in Shorts

September creeps up on you

It starts with one orange leaf. Then pumpkin spice begins popping up on social media and the cinnamon brooms arrive at Trader Joe’s. Damnit!

At home, the garden is getting crispy around the edges. What was lush and abundant five minutes ago is suddenly looking a little sad. Water? Fertilizer? Collagen?

I’ll turn this vibe around, but not until astronomical fall begins on September 22. Until then, I’ll be in shorts, freezing slightly, holding on until summer has taken its last breath.

Then I’ll dig out a sweater or two and find my socks and Chelsea boots ( Michelle made me a convert and I will forever think they are cute with a dress).

Sounds constricting and itchy.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

In Seattle, we know what is coming, which is why I intend to hold on to every last ray of sunshine. ( again dammit)

September pushes out the last of the tomatoes and peppers. My plums and apples are desperate to become a cake or a jar of jam.

This year, we put little gauze bags over the Asian pears so we might get to eat them instead of leaving all that juicy goodness to the worms. Unwrapping each pear feels like opening a tiny celebratory gift from the backyard.

We also have grapes up the wazoo.

One year, at some bee festival, because who doesn’t go to a bee festival, there was a person selling grapevines. I know I wrote down the varieties. I swear that piece of paper is stuffed in a drawer somewhere.

So every year, it’s a surprise.

Green and pink drops with names like Interlaken or Siegerrebe climb all over the front yard, reaching for the sun. Sounds familiar. They grow over trees and trellises, across the honeysuckle and hydrangeas, and high into the maple trees, shooting out tendrils like a giant octopus.

Every fall, Kirby gets out the ladder and goes on a grape treasure hunt.

I will not be doing that.

Spiders.

I do not spider.

Over the garage roof, there are dark, inky purple Concords. They taste like the grape jelly in every school-lunch peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich you have ever eaten.

One thing I love to do is roast grapes. Throw them onto a sheet pan, drizzle them with olive oil, and add thyme leaves and good coarse salt. Roast them until they are just about to burst.

Serve them warm with good stinky cheese and plenty of bread to mop up the juices.

The Italians call this fare la scarpetta: using a piece of bread to mop up every last bit of sauce on the plate.

I live by this. I love this, dont you?

I hope to always make something so delicious that you want every little drop. Scarpetta is more polite than licking the plate in public.

Roast some grapes with good salt and olive oil.

Just sayin'.

Burst Sun Gold Tomato Sauce

Sun Gold tomatoes are very difficult to get from the garden into the house. I eat most of them on the way.

If three pints survive the trip, make this sauce.

Fresh pasta is lovely. Dried pasta is dinner. Use whichever one you have.

Makes enough sauce for 1 pound dried pasta or about 1¼ pounds fresh pasta

Ingredients

• 3 pints ripe Sun Gold or other sweet cherry tomatoes

• ⅓ cup extra-virgin olive oil

• Kosher salt

• 3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

• ½ teaspoon red-pepper flakes, optional

• Freshly ground black pepper

• 1 large handful fresh basil leaves, torn

• 1 to 1½ cups reserved pasta water, as needed

• Parmesan, for serving, optional (not really)

  
  

Make the sauce

Place the tomatoes, olive oil, and a good pinch of salt in a large skillet. Set over medium heat and cover.

Cook for 6 to 8 minutes, shaking the pan occasionally, until the tomatoes soften and begin to burst.

Remove the lid. Add the garlic and red-pepper flakes. Press some of the tomatoes with the back of a wooden spoon, but leave plenty of them whole. Cook for another minute or

two, until the garlic is fragrant and the tomatoes have released their juices.

Meanwhile, cook your pasta in generously salted water. Fresh pasta will take about 2 to 3 minutes. Cook dried pasta until just shy of al dente.

Before draining, reserve at least 1½ cups of the pasta water.

Add the pasta directly to the skillet with a splash of pasta water. Toss over medium heat until the sauce is glossy and clings to the pasta, adding more water as needed.

Turn off the heat. Add the basil and plenty of black pepper. Taste and adjust the salt.

Serve immediately with a mountain of freshly grated Parmesan.