“Don’t get any artichokes or lettuce,” my friend Knox told me on the phone. “I’ve got lots in the garden.” Knox and I were planning to make dinner. I wasn’t sure what we were making yet, but there would apparently be lettuce and artichokes in it.
That is how I found myself wandering the Columbia City Farmers’ Market, trying to decide what to have for dinner. I felt like Alice Waters—plucking the very best of the season’s produce, to be eaten mere hours later. I was also, quite frankly, a little stressed.
You see, the best of the season’s produce doesn’t always present itself in a well-balanced and appealing menu. This is the challenge of seasonality. Can you take what the garden and market gives you and make a meal? I wasn’t sure that I could. I have no problem making a big green salad and calling it dinner, but I’m not sure that would satisfy anyone else.
Then there’s the meat question. Having been raised vegetarian, I never miss meat in a meal—but what about other people? Would peas and asparagus and lettuce and sweet tiny strawberries suffice? I got myself a bit worked up, actually. But all frustration melted away when I walked through the gate at Knox’s house and into his amazing garden.
When I met Knox, two and a half years ago, he had just moved into this house and the backyard was bare. He explained how the landscaping was going to work, but looking at mounds of dirt it was hard to imagine. Now, not even three years later, the place is a flowering paradise and I feel silly for doubting. It’s been a lot of work, and Knox admits to a certain obsession with it, but clearly the investment has paid off. If I lived here, I would never want to leave.
As for artichokes, Knox wasn’t kidding. This is one of three plants, all taller than I am. It made me hopeful for the tiny artichokes recently planted in my own garden. It’s hard to imagine someday they will be big enough to support even one choke, but Knox’s gives me hope.
We picked carrots as well, because they needed to be used. My carrots are still in their infant stage, but Knox is organized and plants things on time. I was jealous of his timely carrots.
The plan was to make a composed salad of cooked and uncooked vegetables. I had bought a bit of salmon to add to the mix (thereby solving my post-vegetarian crisis). We roasted the artichokes, along with the new carrots and some baby beets I had purchased.
And we made a salad with the just picked baby lettuce Knox had grown—aren’t they beautiful? If Alice Waters had been there, she might have been weeping with joy. So fresh! So seasonal! So local! I think we hit the holy trinity. I’m not sure if the lettuce seeds were heirloom, but that would be major bonus points. At one point, I think I heard the Slow Food angels sing.
My plans for the meal also included aïoli, that garlicy sauce from the South of France. In the summer they have festivals called Le Grand Aïoli, where entire villages gather to eat cooked vegetables and fish (traditionally salt cod, I believe) bathed in this garlic mayonnaise. I’ve always wanted to experience that. I did give Knox the option of a much easier vinaigrette dressing, but secretly I wanted to make an aïoli, something I’ve never done before. And since Knox is always up to a food challenge, that is what we did.
We also ate bread and cheese and drank wine.
And I oogled the very first eggs Knox had gotten from his new chickens, sitting there on the kitchen counter.
Even Knox’s chickens are attractively coordinated. It’s really rather amazing.
“You totally have me out-Martha-ed,” I told him. The blooming garden, the stylish chickens, the heavyweight cloth napkins he was pulling out for dinner. It was all so perfect.
But into every perfect moment, some reality must fall. I’m not sure if it was because we doubled the recipe, or because I let the food processor run too long, but I broke the aïoli—the emulsion separated, which is the danger to making aïoli. I wanted to switch to Plan B and make the vinaigrette instead, but Knox sensibly pointed out that it still tasted the same, even if it didn’t look very pretty. I reluctantly agreed, but every time I looked at it I felt deflated. “My inner Martha is weeping,” I told him. Poor, poor aïoli.
But who can be sad for long when you’re sitting down to a table that looks like this? Notice the notebook? I was actually interviewing Knox for an article I’m writing, so technically this was work. Some days I really love my job.
Everything tasted wonderful—how could it not? Most of it was only hours away from being picked.
In the end the meal tasted wonderful, broken aïoli not withstanding. We sat and talked and drank wine as the sun went down and we continued late into the night as the evening was just so lovely. For dessert there was dark chocolate and a taste-off of three different kinds of cherries: Chelan, Bing, and Sonata (a type of cherry I had never heard of but which Knox and I both agreed were the best). At one point coats were retrieved and we continued to sit out there on the deck, in the garden my friend had built, savoring the summer night, illuminated by tiny white lights grown over with hop vines vines. It was midnight when we wrapped everything up.
To me that’s what summer is for: bountiful produce, warm evenings, gardens and flowers and time spent with friends. Cooking is simple and of the moment, trying to capture the flavors of the season. Memorable meals come together easily. That’s what I think of when I think of summer: the ease with which we move through this season, the warmth and pleasure of it. I hope you are getting to enjoy that. Grab the moments, before they slip away.
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now that is what i call a perfect day at 'work', tea!
Wow. That sounds wonderful (all of it! even the "broken" aioli). I wish I had a job like that.
Lovely! Sound FABULOUS. Just as an FYI, you can try to rescue aioli by cooling and adding more emulsifier by adding a refrigerated egg yolk and a tablespoon of ice water and whipping it back in (try doing it by hand so you don't over whip as you might with a food processor).
You can probably also try doing it with some soy lecithin, but most people don't have soy lecithin floating around the house (i'm kind of a freak that way…with random ingredients in my pantry).
dang, I want a garden like that! Looks like a fantastic meal.
Aoili is pretty much sent from the devil to torture us with its on the surface simplicity, but ridiculous complexity.
When I move to Seattle one day (if I don't wish it, it can't come true, right?), I will be begging your friend, Knox, to help me set up my garden. And you'll be invited to bring your artichokes to celebrate the planting, as mine will be too small, as yours are now
One of my most favorite meals was at a friend's place on Salt Spring Island. She grew everything except for the salmon and it was so amazing and fresh. One day I'll have a garden like that, but for now, I'm content (& just a little jealous) with this post.
Look at those roasted artichokes! What a change in appearance.
Look at those roasted artichokes! What a change in appearance.
Look at those roasted artichokes! What a change in appearance.
Look at those roasted artichokes! What a change in appearance.
What a wonderful garden and beautiful day. Vegetables are so underrated, especially in the summer when they are great!
That sounds lovely. I've never even seen how artichokes grow! Your pictures are beautiful and I've decided I need more friends like yours
beautiful post
What an amazing transformation from bare ground to a gardener's paradise in less than three years! He really has a green thumb, doesn't he?
Carpe diem
But can I recommend lettuce soup?
A perfect summer starter when one's friends will insist on leaving bags full of lettuce on the gate post and you haven't the heart to tell them the fridge is already over-flowing with lettuces
That might literally be the most beautiful plated dinner I have ever seen.
What a lovely post.
Oh my goodness. So many dreams in this post. If I can ever stay in one place long enough to grow a garden like that I'm going to. Looks amazing.
Sounds like a perfect way to spend the day.
And what beautiful pictures as well. 
Lotta
How do you collect such interesting people in your life? And will we be able to read your article on Knox?
Thanks for brightening my day! Viva the farmer's markets! We are so blessed in our green-land!
It all sounds so beautiful. I would just love to be able to get ample things from my garden. Eventhough it's very hot now I try to spend at least an hour or so in my yard trying to get things as nice as the one pictured.When you have a friend with the same interests it's such a great help. That picture is really an inspiration and motivation.
Oooh artichokes! I'm rooting about the garden trying to figure out if I can find a spot for them… But I have to find a spot for the waiting asparagus plants and fig tree first.
Knox's garden looks absolutely marvellous! I am almost jealous, but definitely impressed. The food looks fabulous as always.
The absolute easiest way to rescue a broken aïoli (or mayonnaise)is a spoonful of mustard, a whisk and a stabilized mixing bowl. Place the mustard (dijon is best, but I am sure ballpark mustard will do in a pinch), and slowly dribble in the broken sauce all the while whisking vigorously. You can also use a mixer or a stick blender. Chefs often recommend dribbling warm water into the broken sauce, but mustard is a quicker solution.
That looks Amazing!!!! Wow, am I jealous. Yes, he's got every single one of us out-Martha-Ed. Love the term!
What a beautiful garden! and of course, seeing all these artichokes is like being in a dream for me
you rendered the atmosphere perfectly through your pics and story…how lovely!