Damon Lee Fowler

A sure sign of summer in a Southern kitchen is a bowl or window ledge full of vine-ripened tomatoes from the garden. But an even surer one in mine is a jug of cold soup in the refrigerator. From early June (May when we lived in Savannah) until well into September, there's at least one such jug or bowl of a soup that's as good cold as warm. Though it can be heated to warm us on the odd cool evening, it's mainly there to have cold, to soothe and stir heat-blunted appetites.

At the moment, there are actually two: this summer's first batch of vegetable soup (still not quite like my grandmother's, but getting there) and a summer squash puree with leeks and thyme.

I don't really follow a recipe anymore. It's the same basic formula Read More 

14 September 2022: Comfort Gratin

It's rare that anything really personal finds its way into these essays. Most of them are about cooking technique, ingredients, method, or the provenance of a particular recipe. First person singular pronouns are kept to a minimum because it's not about me or even what I know. After all, what we know is nothing to take credit for, since most of it came from someone else.

There may be a passing thought on a lesson learned about exercising patience or focus in the kitchen, or perhaps a reminder that the most important thing in cooking is pleasing ourselves and our loved ones. But the most personal any of them ever get is to touch on how a dish makes me feel and/or its connection with someone dear to me.

This one, however, is very personal. Read More 

Of all the lovely ways there are to prepare summer squash, I never tire of pairing it with pasta, partly because I love what they do for one another and partly because the possibilities are practically endless.

Whether it's zucchini or our own delicate yellow crooknecks, their silky texture and subtly sweet flavor make a fine sauce for practically any pasta shape.

So when I came by some beautiful and fresh small yellow squash at the farmers' market, at least one of them was sure to end up in a bowl of pasta.  Read More 

The beginning of our first full summer in Virginia found me out in the yard, still trying to beat into submission the overgrowth that had taken over the garden. It hasn't been without rewards:   beneath the wisteria, brambles, wild grapes, and poison ivy (that I swear sprout new growth the instant one's back is turned) lie the remains of a garden that was once a showplace.

Still, it's been hard not to get overwhelmed, so as the heat increases and my stamina lags, my focus has turned to small projects close to the house. One such project has been the filling of three barren planting beds on the back terrace.

The first order of business for this cook of course was an herb garden.  Read More 

Among the best things of all the wonderful summer produce that used to come from my mother's now dormant vegetable garden were delicate, sweet summer squash. It yielded our familiar Southern yellow crooknecks by the bushel, but also produced slim little green zucchini in equal quantity, because our whole family loved both.

They're what I miss most from her garden. We cooked them in all the usual ways and never tired of any of them:  Read More 

30 June 2021: Summer Squash and Pasta

Last week I was finally able to visit my parents, whom I had not seen since December of 2019. It was bittersweet: Finally seeing and actually touching them was undiluted joy; witnessing the toll that age and pandemic isolation have taken was heartbreaking. Hearing it in their voices on the telephone, and in regular reports from my brother, was one thing, but experiencing it in person was something else altogether.

One of the single saddest things of all was that my mother is no longer able to do the thing she loves best: garden. Her large vegetable garden plot is now indistinguishable from the rest of the yard. And there was not one single green vegetable to be found in that house.

Still, it was good to actually see them and, if only for a few days, take some of the burden off my brother, and do things Read More