It's August. We've had ten or eleven days in a row of temperatures over 100° (38° C) in north-central Alabama. We are in Exceptional Drought, the most severe stage, which means that fresh local veggies are almost nonexistent and very high priced. I can't water my own garden due to water restrictions, and my tomatoes and peppers are shriveled and dying. Nothing sounds good. My stomach's mildly upset and so is my chi.
Welcome to the Dog Days of August -- the Summer Doldrums.
I grew up in the South in the days when home air conditioning was a rarity limited to the houses of the very well-to-do (and we were not). Our kitchen was on the front of the house, facing west, and got the full glare of the afternoon sun. Who needed an oven? We cooked in one every summer.
And yet... I can't recall specific summer meals. I remember more than once giving myself a plate of just cole slaw -- shredded cabbage and carrots and chopped onions, mayonnaise, a sprinkling of sugar -- a very yin meal for a kid from a northern European family that had never heard of that concept. I remember crisp cold pickles. Fresh peas. Gallons of iced tea. No sugar in mine, please, but my sister made up for it with an inch or so in the bottom of her glass. Milk and milk dishes were forbidden during the summer, because the old people said that milk would "turn" in your stomach in the heat and you'd be sick for days.
We did not eat fruit. Oh, there was the occasional apple or banana, and sometimes there was peach cobbler early in the summer. An orange in the stocking at Christmas. Homemade blackberry jam to eat on toast or biscuits. But Dad hated watermelon, my sister was allergic to canteloupe and pineapple, and no one in that era had ever heard of mango or papaya or kiwi. "Fruit" meant canned fruit cocktail in heavy syrup, usually ladled onto a plate next to a pile of cottage cheese, something you ate in the winter as a salad before the roast beef and potatoes.
Cold soups? Who eats soup cold? Put it back in the pot and hot it up again!
So when the weather turns this impossible, my inheritance de cuisine comes up seriously lacking. It's been too hot to grill! My husband and son tell me to just turn the thermostat a little lower. They demand roast beef and mashed potatoes and gravy and pretend it's December. Macaroni and cheese! Fried chicken, please! Oh, it's too hot to cook? We'll just call out for pizza!
Sigh.
This afternoon I poached some chicken breasts in the microwave -- debone the breasts (or buy them already without skin and bone), chop them into bite-size chunks, cover with water or stock and a little lemon juice, nuke for about 15 minutes, drain. (Save the cooking water and add it to your next soup.) Open a can of chickpeas, rinse thoroughly, and drain. Put the chickpeas in a large bowl with about a 1/4 cup each of good olive oil and fresh lemon juice. Add a generous sprinkling of oregano. Toss it all together, coating the beans thoroughly. Mound some fresh torn lettuce on a plate. Put a big spoonful of chickpeas on the lettuce, add some of the chicken, and drizzle the olive oil/lemon juice dressing over it all. If the garden has been watered and you have a fresh tomato or two, quarter it and add to the top of the salad. A dusting of Pecorino Romano cheese does not come amiss, either. Attack with a fork.
So that's my favorite Dog Day Dinner for a household that won't eat cold soups and consider fruit as something to have as an appetizer before the meat-and-potatoes meal. Too simple to call it a recipe, and I'm almost ashamed to call it cooking.
Surviving Hot Weather
Tips from the BBC
Do not greet friends and co-workers with a jolly 'Hot enough for you?' Of course it's hot enough for them, and they've already heard it a dozen times. This thirteenth time may push them right over the edge.
You may want to consider sleeping alone - shove that hairy body next to you right out of the bed.
Make sun tea. Fill a pitcher with water - no need to heat it first - and add tea or tea bags to taste. Sit the pitcher in the sun. In a few hours you will have the clearest, loveliest tea you can imagine. Put the pitcher in the fridge to chill the tea, or add ice. Or do as they do in Morocco - where they know about hot weather - and add mint.
Be gentle with yourself. You're miserable, you're probably not sleeping well, and your head hurts. Don't beat up on yourself because you're not at your best. Give yourself a treat, even if it's only ice cream for breakfast.
Eventually, it will be December.