September is scooting along. School busses whiz by daily in a goldenrod blur, with drivers eager to deliver their cargo on time. “Get with it,” they seem to rumble, rattling on down the gravel road. “It’s a new season.”
Sorry, I’m not ready. So what if Labor Day has come and gone? Autumn looms, but I don’t care; I’m ignoring the calendar change. I’m reveling – as long as possible – in the tail-end-of-summer fruit mode. A sense of urgency fuels me.
While the backyard squirrels are gathering nuts for winter, I’m grabbing every last remnant of late summer food fun. For me, it’s always the task to round up four favorite fruits, available in that slim August-September window, in order to create our end-of-summer magic fruit potion.
Once a year, we savor this exquisitely simple Michigan combo: watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe and peaches (with a touch of Michigan honey). Simple is best sometimes; and these four together create a colorful, delicious symphony of ‘Pure Michigan,’ pure pleasure.
The challenge is finding locally grown fruit – in its fresh- from-nature state, which means tree, bush and vine ripened.
“Watermelons, they’re sweet, they’re cold….” That jaunty ragtime song plays in my head. Watermelons sing summer; the ruby fruit, fresh from summer gardens, is a substantial ingredient in this fruit bowl.
Blueberries – adding a touch of indigo tartness – taste best to our family when picked in the environs of my husband’s hometown, Grand Haven. But that, no doubt, is purely psychological. Or, is it?
Peaches from Michigan are most beautiful to find. Nothing says loving better, for me, than tree-ripened Red Havens. Found: this year, a luscious cache of juicy gold from western Michigan, eaten fresh, with not one left for cobbler or pie.
Cantaloupe is at its most delectable, of course, when it’s a genuine Howell melon. Sometimes we have to settle for ordinary Michigan melon. But the preferred ingredient is the fragrant Howell Honeysweet. How do you even describe this unique local treasure?
My preference for Howell melons harkens back to my newspaper days at the old Livingston County Press. The Howell Melon Festival was in its early days; and so was I. You can tell, as I’ve forgotten who was interviewed to feature that melon recipe during festival week; but I’m forever grateful. I’ve been serving and sharing ever since.
It would be fun to check the newspaper archives sometime. Probably, if I’d search all my ancient recipe collection, I’d happen upon the old clipping.
For sure, summer is not the same without this fresh Michigan fruit delight on our table, at least once. Always, a wave of nostalgia sweeps over me when the bowl is emptied of the very last juicy bite; it’s the signal that change is on the horizon.
Summer flavors must be savored in memory until next year. With a native Michigander’s fixation on fruits of the season, it’s the same for strawberries in June, cherries in July…raspberries, grapes, apples. We’ll set off on grand, often quirky, adventures – chasing down our favorites.
The bowl may be empty, but the flavors of a Michigan summer will linger in my heart all winter long. And so, the season turns. I begin to think of the Autumn Equinox approaching, as the last edge of summer gives way to autumn harvest. I’m ready, now, for the changeover.
The house windows are closed to the crisp air outside; I don’t hear rumbling busses challenging me. Besides, a new medley of fruit beckons. This year, they say, is a winner for grapes and apples again.
I succumb, then, to autumn’s inevitable call, with a declaration: Let the wild wine making and apple pie baking begin.
