Us old timers still call Indian Summer, Indian Summer, while the PC police would have us call this uniquely American season “second summer’ or something that borders on goofy. For example, somewhere on the Internet I found suggestions to call it badger summer, or pastrami summer (I’m not kidding) and even quince summer – whatever that is. It’s not happening in this blog. All those names have the charm of four-day old banana bread. Blah!
OK, I get that the term, Indian Summer, can be interpreted by some to be offensive to Native Americans, but who says ‘Native Americans’ isn’t offensive to this group of people, anyway? If they had their choice way back when, European settlers would not have showed up at all. Too late for that. Even so, when I worked in Canada earlier in the 21st Century I learned the name of what these folks should respectfully be called, as the Canadians call their own indigenous people “First Nation People.” Turns out the Canadians can do more than just play hockey, so let the Canadians take over the PC Police!
Sorry. This is a food blog, so I’ll get to the food shortly.
But to complete the thought and by contrast, Indian Summer is a charming name. I first came across it living in the Colorado Rockies as a teenager, and it meant that we had a warm spell after a cold snap. It was a reprieve from an early winter, and a reminder of the glorious summer weather that was about to be gone for eight months or so. Living in Aspen, our Indian Summers also came with a color – the colors, actually, of yellow, gold, red and every combination those colors can make, as the aspen leaves changed colors in Autumn. A forest of aspen trees blanketing a mountain hillside in the fall is one of the prettiest scenes God and Nature have ever created on this earth.
Allegedly, ‘Indian Summer’ first came into the lexicon when English settlers saw our first nation people set prairie fires as part of their autumn harvest methods, and the English gave it a name, based not only on the unseasonably warm weather but also the haziness in the sky caused by the fires.
So, every chef or amateur cook knows the summertime feeling when you want something for dinner, but it’s a little too warm for anything heavy. Naturally, in summer, we default to salads with some kind of protein and whatever else the pantry can offer up, and we get by.
But as this was our first Indian Summer evening in the Sonoma Wine Country, I wanted something that was more savory, and a little substantive, because I had eaten lightly earlier in the day, and was hungry.
Fortunately, I had the ingredients in the fridge.
Leftover, previously baked and relatively firm sweet potato. Actually I only cook with Yams, the orange-colored ones.
Zucchini.
Little Gem Lettuce.
Heirloom Tomato.
Pancetta slices.
In a 9 inch skillet I put three of the pancetta slices in the pan and without oil, reduced them until they were a little crispy, but not dry.
I cut the zucchini in 4 sections and fried them flat-side down, in olive oil, garlic salt and black pepper.
Once done, I removed them and cooked slices of sweet potato in the same skillet, adding some butter toward the end, with salt and pepper, which kind of caramelized them. Yummy.
I cut up some of the tomato and put them on top of torn-up lettuce leaves, then drizzled this crazy good Milanese Gremolata-infused olive oil that I found at store that only sells olive oil and vinegars, then salted the tomatoes with a black truffle salt I buy from Urbani Truffles in New York, via online. I also drizzled some balsamic peach vinegar on the tomatoes and lettuce.
To plate the food, I just mixed the sweet potatoes and zucchini adjacent to the salad and placed the crispy pancetta on top.
The meal was full of flavor, savory and sweet, and like a good French meal, fulfilling yet didn’t leave one feeling overly fed. Just right. I happened to have a chilled bottle of Bandol rose, a Domaine Du Gros Nore, year 2020, in the main kitchen fridge and opened it. I meant to keep the consumption to the usual school night ritual of two glasses, but with the western sky ablaze in an orange, sun setting glory, and that meal….. I could not refrain and enjoyed a third glass of wine.