I look forward to summer all year.  Not just because it’s my favorite season, being that I despise cold and actually feel comfortable in 100 degree heat, but primarily because the food of summer is still so different, still so distinctively singular and, well, seasonal.  In a time that it seems we have homogenized the very essence of life into a long strand of banal commodities, the freshness of summer still infects the Lowcountry.

There’s an old farmer that seems to drop by my wife’s law firm when the weather ripens every year (probably because he’s a favored client) with a big sackful of something or other under his arm, and we eat like kings.  This time it was fresh corn, straight from the field, alongside the first big load of squash and zucchini from my parent’s garden, waiting patiently in the refrigerator for us to return from New York and drop them in the hot grease.

Who needs creative dinner ideas in world like that?

From dirt to dinner…

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