Cold Slaw Season
About the time of year that the fireflies start to flicker in the early evening and the gardenias and magnolias add their evocative perfumes to the sultry summer air, it becomes too hot to cook in the heat of the day. July, August and September can be scorching months in the South, which is why so many Southern dishes can be served hot, cold or at room temperature, depending on the thermometer.
When the sun is at its hottest, the wise seek the shade of a water oak, crepe myrtle or giant magnolia, if an open porch with a cross breeze and a ceiling fan are not at hand. Large hats that cast a shadow are not the sole province of the gardener.
We become languid. Our pace slows and our sensuality peaks as we relish the sound of the crickets in the dusk and sit, occasionally dozing or rocking, sipping iced tea or Coke from sweating glasses, snapping peas and thinking of good times shared, of porch swings where we kissed or will kiss. The air is lush and heavy as we listen to the ice cream churn, the laughter of small children and the cooing of the doves, and we become enveloped by the voluptuous ice cream melting on a plate or on our tongue.
By late summer, when the crepe myrtle sheds its flowers in a pink carpet, it is too hot to do anything but pick at your food until evening comes. The heat penetrates your bones and the ground beneath your feet, and you are overwhelmed with mugginess and sweltering humidity--and then “comes up a storm” that renews the flowers and the vegetables, and before you know it, the garden is bursting with a second crop, ready to be put up or cooked to be served right away.
This is when I start waking extra early and sit with the whippoorwills calling to me as I sort through recipes, drink tea and plan my cooking day. The night air can be so cool that when the morning sun starts heating the ground, the reaction causes a fog that covers the land two or three feet deep. Watching this fairy-like ground fog rise and disappear, I do my major cooking and baking for the day.
Sausage or pork tenderloin is sauteed early in the day, tucked inside biscuits and wrapped tightly, to be pulled out at the lake just after a swim. Slaw and deviled eggs are made and refrigerated to be served cold from the cooler or refrigerator, and cantaloupe and other fruits are cut up for a cooling addition to a pool party.
I love this cooking-ahead time, when the rest of my world is slumbering and I can make my music: the sound of water boiling, butter singing, the knife cutting and shredding, the mixer beating a delicious cake. I admire the vibrant beauty of a peeled red pepper, rivaling the red of the cardinal eating sunflower seeds at my window, and I admire the symmetry of a perfectly hard-cooked egg, to be split and filled so wonderfully that it will rile the devil out of the church down the road.
And so I enter the day and the heat, and filled with my own sensuality I rest with it. I’m ready for picnics and barbecues and lakes and beach, for reunions and telling stories of eccentric cousins and others long dead. My work done, I can even return to bed for a while in the heat of the day.
CURRIED COLESLAW
7 cups shredded green cabbage
1 medium carrot, peeled and shredded
1 cup mayonnaise
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon grated onion
3/4 teaspoon celery seeds
1/4 teaspoon dry mustard
1/8 teaspoon curry powder
Salt
Freshly ground pepper
Combine cabbage and carrot in large bowl and set aside.
Stir together mayonnaise, sugar, vinegar, onion, celery seeds, mustard, curry powder and salt and pepper to taste in another bowl. Mix well.
Pour mayonnaise mixture over vegetables and toss gently. Cover and chill. Makes 10 servings.
