By Jude Waterston
Mornings in Oaxaca, Mexico, were lovely. There was a slight chill in the air that dissipated as we ate a leisurely breakfast on a rustic stone terrace a few feet from our room at Las Mariposas B&B. We were surrounded by fruit trees and a multitude of colorful, handmade ceramic pots filled with fragrant blooms. It was an unbelievably lush surrounding in which to greet the day. My sister, Janet, and I always began by ordering a platter of fresh fruit.
The selection varied daily, but more often than not there were wedges of lightly perfumed, deep orange papaya, ultra-sweet pineapple, and juicy mango. The offerings were often drizzled with yogurt and always garnished with tiny puffed amaranth (an ancient grain treated in this instance like puffed rice). Janet and I couldn’t get over how vibrant the fruit tasted even knowing that produce grown in the vicinity in which it’s consumed is naturally bursting with flavor.
Years earlier, when I traveled solo to Negril, Jamaica,
I would walk early each morning to a market a short distance from my hotel. Vendors there hawked tee shirts, hand-made beaded jewelry and other crafts, as well as locally grown fruits and vegetables. On the first day a woman called out to me, her hand outstretched. A cluster of miniature bananas, each around 3 or 4 inches long, sat in her palm. I bought them, along with a small coconut. After giving me my change, she presented me with a gift of a grapefruit, its skin blushed with red. I returned to her rough-hewn wooden stall each morning thereafter, and
always she gave me a gift along with my purchase, often introducing me to a gem I had never seen or tasted before. The jackfruit, with its yellow-gold flesh, was sweet and aromatic. Soursop had a creamy pulp. And though I’d tasted guavas, passion fruit, and pomegranates before, their flavor was so much purer and sparkling there on the Island where they had been picked a short while before they were stacked for display.
Every year, as the winter thaw gives way to the short (or sometimes nonexistent) spring we experience in New York, and then the warm weather moves in, I begin to crave fruit salad. Prior to that I’ll occasionally grab a banana or orange, but from late June to the changing of the leaves in September, I make my way with joy through the abundance of berries, melons, juicy stone fruits, and pulpy grapes. This past summer I made dozens of fruit salads, sometimes augmenting them with store-bought kiwis, citrus fruits, or mango, but more often than not they were celebrations of home-grown bounty. Sometimes they accompanied creamy, soft scrambled eggs I garnished with
grated parmesan and fresh garden chives, or a juicy heirloom tomato salad and crusty bread. Once in awhile we ate the fruit salad over good, thick and tangy Greek yogurt. Or I baked golden popovers
or a fluffy Dutch baby, which is a sort of giant puffed pancake traditionally served with lemon wedges and dusted with confectioner’s sugar. A cherry tomato (or oven-dried tomato) clafouti, a savory riff on the typical French dessert most often made with plums, was another favorite. And Italian frittatas: thick, slightly dense omelets made in a well-seasoned cast iron skillet, go perfectly with fresh fruit. And naturally I photographed all the specimens I made. Many were sprinkled with fresh mint and some with flaked coconut. All were beautiful, I believe.
The weather has suddenly turned crisp in the past few days and I know my fruit salad days are numbered. The farmer’s market is displaying the last of the plums, nectarines, and peaches and soon we will be up against mountains of apples and pears, which are fine for cobblers, crumbles, and pies, but don’t belong in a fruit salad, as far as I’m concerned. So, as I bid the fruits of summer a fond farewell, I offer you a recipe or two and a photo gallery of the “fruits of my labor”.
Fruit Salad with Coconut and Fresh Mint
Serves 4
1 firm, ripe mango
1 large orange
2 peaches or nectarines
1 plum
1/3 cup seedless green or red grapes
1 cup red or yellow watermelon cubes
1 – 2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
1 – 2 tablespoons sweetened (or unsweetened, if you prefer) coconut flakes
Peel the mango and cut the flesh into small cubes. Place in a large decorative bowl. Slice off the ends of the orange and squeeze any juice into the bowl with the mango. Slice off the skin and pith of the orange. Again, squeeze any juice into bowl. Section the orange and cut the sections into thirds. Add to bowl. Cut the peaches or nectarines, skin-on, into small cubes. With a sharp knife, remove the sour skin of the plum and cut the flesh into cubes. Add all to the bowl. If the grapes are large, cut them in half on the diagonal. If small, leave whole. Add to bowl. Add the watermelon cubes. Toss the salad gently, but thoroughly. Top with the chopped mint and coconut flakes. Serve immediately or chill, covered with plastic wrap, until ready to serve.
Serves 4 as a side dish
I also make this dish with oven-dried tomatoes. Simply preheat your oven to 250 degrees. Cut small to medium (preferably heirloom) tomatoes in half and place on a baking tray. Drizzle lightly with good olive oil, sprinkle with a bit of sea salt and dried oregano and bake for about 5 hours, until tomatoes shriveled and somewhat dry, yet still soft and plump. You have never tasted a sweeter or more intensely flavored tomato in your life.
1 – 1 ½ cups grape or small cherry tomatoes
½ cup (packed) grated parmesan cheese
4 eggs
2 tablespoons flour
¾ cup sour cream
4 tablespoons half and half, heavy cream, or whole milk
10 large basil leaves, stacked, rolled up tightly, then sliced into thin strips (this is called a chiffonade)
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Butter for greasing the baking dish
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a shallow ovenproof baking dish (approx. 9x6x2”) with butter. In a large bowl, beat eggs. Add flour and whisk to incorporate. Add sour cream and milk and combine well. Stir in basil and three-quarters of the cheese, salt and pepper. Pour batter into prepared dish. Plop in the tomatoes, spacing them evenly. Sprinkle the remaining cheese over the top and bake for 25 minutes, until puffed and golden.
I can attest to the deliciousness of Jude’s food, but she regrettably left out one essential fruit salad ingredient………alcohol. My wife Wendy and I make fruit salad with honey dissolved into sweet vermouth, with cinnamon and fresh-ground nutmeg for a little extra flavor. Just add fruit, with some of the light syrup from jarred grapefruit to round out the liquid. Deelish.
How to grate nutmeg, you ask. Buy a $12.99 microplane. Best thing ever invented for grating cheese, nutmeg, etc. If you don’t own one, you can triumph over your shame by buying one. Today.
Buzz Waterston, Wallingford, PA