I am currently travelling over the Atlantic while writing this post. We are due to arrive in Brussels California
Being in this interim period that I am, I would like to do one last post about garden delicacies at the ranch before moving on to my European culinary adventures. I suppose it’s a fitting time to do it.
So let’s see. (For me, this saying means “let me peruse my pictures to remember where I was at, and what I don’t want to leave out”). Ah yes. Summer sandwiches. As you may have gleaned from previous posts, the garden started producing an abundance of fruit a little bit later this year than usual due to a late frost and a prolonged cool spring, and thus this was the only time I had this greatly anticipated sandwich this summer. We had them the night before we left, and they were a wonderful sendoff meal.
See, the beauty of the sandwich is that it is made with many of the vegetables that we grow and love. It is thus not only a delicious culinary experience, it is a celebration of our garden, the time we put into the garden, and our enjoyment of all of it. It is made from grilled slices of eggplant and summer squash on pieces of toasted sourdough that has been brushed with olive oil and a layer of homemade soft goat cheese. Some put pesto on top of the cheese as well. Next you put a layer of basil leaves, upon which you lovingly place thick juicy slabs of beefsteak tomatoes so ripe they have a purplish hue to them. You must make sure to cover the basil to avoid it becoming blackened, because after you assemble this masterpiece, you place it in the salamander or broiler to warm the sandwich and slightly roast the tops of the tomato . Before you sink your teeth into this mouthwatering mound of garden abundance fragrant with smells of fresh basil and roasted tomato, you might decide to add an additional layer of the creamy goat cheese, but that is purely a decision left to your own discretion.
Another aspect to the consumption of this sandwiches is being with your friends. Everyone enjoys putting their sandwich together their own way, and we talk about it and laugh about it and learn the things that people did that you would want to try yourself. Which also means that the people who serve themselves last actually have the best shot at making the best sandwiches, a bit of wisdom that I learned from my dad that night. (And if you must know, I was one of the first to make my sandwich).
{My Dad's Finished Sandwich}
It was a great meal.
I must also pay homage to the strawberry shortcake that my sister Lynne made the day before. The dessert was made from our little lower garden strawberries, still slightly tart but drenched in sugar until they became juicy and filled with the scent and essence of strawberry. Their juices soaked into the sweet, dense, spongy and slightly caramelized sponge cake. The whole was topped with lightly sweetened whipped cream, which smoothed out the whole combination into pure deliciousness. It reminded me of an old childhood book, filled with fanciful zebras, lurking tiny mouses hiding in the images, tennis-playing elephants, and a feast so absolutely decadent sparkling upon the page that it was the food of the gods. It was one of those things I always wished I could eat.
(PS: I wrote this yesterday/the day before, but am now posting it as I have internet access. Bonne nuit.)
