Welcome to Summer.

The Equinox.

The Longest Day.

In honor of the changing of the seasons, I have once again, changed out my dishes.

Summer in the South is a time of heavy, moisture laden air. Of bugs in thick swarms. Of late afternoon thunderstorms and early retreats to the porch.

It is a time of restless, sleepless nights when even a sheet is too much weight to bear. A time when old houses creak and groan and sigh and expand.

When the dead in the graveyard down the street, awakened by the hum of cicada, readjust their satin pillows, loosen neckties and bodices, struggle to find the sweet spot and Rest In Peace.

Summer in the South is a weighted affair.

So the dishes need to be light.

They need to be crisp and plain and free of fuss and formality.

They need to be simple and not burden the senses.

They need to let the food speak.

Simple summer food.

Vibrant fruits and vegetables, their colors refreshing and hydrating. Food plucked from the earth, chosen for simplicity and the ability to satiate without heating up the kitchen.

Summer dishes are for vivid green salads dotted with tomatoes from the garden. For fresh fruit and fish and mango chutney.

Summer dishes are for lime sorbet, spooned out under the cover of darkness. Taken to the porch while the rest of the house sleeps a fitful sleep, to be eaten in the heavy stillness of the summer night.

The only sounds, thunder in the distance, a spoon against a plain white bowl, the shift of a Victorian, the exhale of a crypt, and the readjusting of restless bones.