By Last week of summer. The kids are doing that thing where they simultaneously complain about being bored and refuse to acknowledge that they have two hundred unwatched hours of freedom left. Noah is spending his final days of summer improving the go-kart's suspension system, which he decided was "suboptimal" after a particularly bumpy ride down the driveway. Emma is working on a graphic novel about a girl detective who solves mysteries using only her five senses and a magnifying glass. Jack is harvesting the last of the tomatoes, turning the garden beds, and adding final compost in preparation for his fall planting — kale, lettuce, and this year, radishes, because Jack believes in diversification and also because radishes grow fast and fast results are satisfying even for patient people.
I made a caprese salad from the last Beefsteak tomatoes — thick slices of red tomato, fresh mozzarella, basil from the deck pot, olive oil, balsamic, salt. When the tomatoes are this good, you don't cook them. You don't even do much to them. You slice them and you let them be what they are, which is the culmination of five months of sun and water and a seven-year-old's daily attention.
I drove to Grinnell midweek. Dad's garden is mostly done — the corn is picked, the tomatoes are in, the sunflower heads are drying. He was cleaning tools in the garage, oiling the hand tools, sharpening the pruners, the autumn maintenance that farmers do when the growing is done and the machinery needs care. He does it with the same attention he gave the John Deere tractors when we had the farm — each tool cleaned, each blade sharpened, each handle wiped. The tools are smaller now. The care is the same.
He gave me a bag of sunflower seeds for Jack. "For next year's planting," he said. Seeds from Roger's sunflowers — the sunflowers Marlene grows, the ones that have been in the Weber family garden for as long as anyone can remember. Seeds carry lineage the way blood carries DNA. You plant them and the past comes up with the sprouts. I took the seeds home and gave them to Jack and he put them in a labeled envelope: "Weber Sunflowers — Grinnell, 2018." He knows what they are. He knows what they carry.
That caprese salad I made from Jack’s last Beefsteaks has been on my mind all week — the way simplicity becomes a kind of tribute when the ingredients have earned it. This cucumber feta salad carries the same spirit: a handful of fresh things, barely touched, allowed to be exactly what they are. When the garden is winding down and the seeds are being saved for next year, the right recipe is always the one that gets out of the way and lets the harvest speak.
Cucumber Feta Salad
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 large English cucumbers, thinly sliced or cut into half-moons
- 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
- 1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
- 1/4 cup Kalamata olives, pitted and halved (optional)
- 2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
- 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Prep the cucumbers. Wash cucumbers thoroughly. If using regular cucumbers, peel and seed them first. Slice into thin rounds or half-moons and place in a large bowl.
- Add the aromatics. Add the sliced red onion and olives (if using) to the bowl with the cucumbers.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, oregano, salt, and pepper until combined.
- Dress and toss. Pour the dressing over the cucumber mixture and toss gently to coat. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
- Finish and serve. Top with crumbled feta and fresh dill. Serve immediately for crisp texture, or refrigerate for up to 30 minutes to let the flavors meld slightly.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 120 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 6g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 380mg