Every summer, I find a few new recipes that become the defining meals of the season. I usually find them after a trip to the farmers market, which I always attend when I’m in a rush. As a result, I start circling quickly, randomly buying anything that catches my eye, hoping against hope I have enough cash. That’s how I end up with three bunches of mustard greens or three small beets, a bunch of extra-large green onions, or, this year, a pound of snow peas.

So to my cookbooks and the computer I go, searching for the meal that will most honor them.

I have to say, I love how cooking like this quintessentially says summer to me. It starts with the ingredient, not with the recipe. It starts with the farm, not the grocery store. And because everything is at its peak, you feel like you’re tasting, really tasting, for the first time of the year.

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Pursuant to our conversation about bathing suit season last week (could I first get a shout-out for legalese? Its formality always cracks me up), we need to talk about the low-cal food market. It is, after all, what naturally becomes part of your life four days after you make the decision you’re going to get bathing suit skinny. Around 3 o’clock on day four, you start roaming the grocery store like a rabid dog, looking for any cheat that might come your way. You wonder how Snackwells taste. You throw a bag of Skinny Pop into the cart. You consider fat-free cheese and realize you’re not that desperate.

This year, bathing suit season landed my stepdaughter Gabrielle and I in the ice cream aisle where, frankly, we had no business being. But my thought process was, well, a), I’m starving and, b), maybe gelato is super good for you and I don’t know it. So we went to the Talenti (which I highly, highly recommend under different circumstances) and started label reading. We soon discovered that half a cup of chocolate was 200 calories.

“Worth it?” I asked Gabrielle, looking hopeful.

“Not even kind of,” she said, firmly the voice of reason.
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A little more than a year ago, I wrote a column discussing how much I hate wearing a bathing suit. But, as I face another summer, I’ve come to realize that conversation was incomplete. Because it didn’t even touch on the complexity of bathing suit season.

The threat of the season starts kicking in sometime in the middle of April. Around the middle of May, it’s in full swing and by the first of June, if you still haven’t acknowledged it, you’re in trouble. That’s because the upcoming season results in all living, first-world women to what? That’s right, ladies: get skinny.

The most interesting thing about this phenomenon is I don’t actually have a particular suit to get ready for. That’s because I hate all of my bathing suits from previous years, which did nothing to make me look more like Jennifer Lopez. That means that the holy grail of suits is still out there and it’s for that magical, invisible suit that I am preparing.

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Over the past year, we’ve been lucky enough to spend more time in the great city of Louisville. We’ve always liked this place for its fun outdoor art, its waiters with man buns and beards, its comfortable size, and its flat, runnable roads. But it’s our new credit card that is primarily responsible for these little jaunts, since we manage to rack up enough points on a pretty regular basis to get a free night’s stay at the downtown Hyatt. A short, cheap drive and a free hotel room will drag even the staunchest ruralite out of the holler.

Since there are a few foodies that read my blog and since it’s the perfect time of year for a mini-break, I thought I might recommend a few places we’ve found along the way.

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