A peach of a day

Saturday was a 'peach' of a day.

Danny (as in Tropical Storm Danny) pelted the Maine coast with hard heavy unending rain and winds that began Friday night and didn't end until the wee hours Sunday morning. But never mind. Larry brought me flowers. And I had thoughts of slow cooking.

There was a chill in the air. My thoughts turned to indoor cooking. Slow cooking. Something that simmers for a long long while called to me. I like slow food. But you already know that about me. I liked slow food before it was a movement. Before it was trendy.

Tomatoes, ahhhhh tomatoes. Slowly simmered fresh tomatoes.

For today's recipe, I needed six large tomatoes and a generous amount of fresh herbs.

I cut the tomatoes in fat slices and gave them a little shower of good olive oil. Mixed them with freshly cut herbs from our container garden ~~ basil, both green and purple, oregano, thyme, parsley. Added a healthy dose of minced garlic and sprinkling of salt and pepper and sugar.

The whole luscious thing went into a large covered roasting pan in a 250 degree oven for six hours. Slow cooking. Yes.

It wasn't long before the aroma of tomato, garlic and herbs filled the house.

Here is the lovely concoction after 2 hours in the oven.

And at 4 hours into the process, it was nearly impossible to resist a taste. I didn't. Resist.

Six hours later. A slowly roasted tomato sauce just out of the oven.

This is a hearty sauce, intensely flavored. It will be tossed with a good pasta and some freshly grated cheese. Asiago or Parmesan. For for dinner, we added a salad of red and green leaf lettuce and frissee dressed with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Red wine in glasses. A little bit of heaven.

That Golden Vegetable

Local fresh produce is everywhere. And what a delight after the long winter of desire. Maine lettuce and tomato, lots of greens of every variety, abundant little English peas, and early squash ~~ oh, my favorite this season is kouso, on the grill, from River Lily Farm in Ogunquit, just up the road a bit. The farmer's markets, despite the unusual rains of June and July, are a feast for the eye and the belly.

Here in Maine, we are feasting on lovely long yellow ears of corn. Fragrant and sweet.
Here is a an homage to that golden vegetable written in 1892.

Drawn up in serried ranks across the fields
That, as we gaze, seem ever to increase,
With tasseled flags and sun-emblazoned shields,
The glorious army of earth’s perfect peace.

C. W. Coleman, Corn