18 Light Summer Dinner Recipes

Late June and the plums are gone — what the birds didn't take, the heat finished, the last of them wrinkled and falling and going to compost or to vinegar in the crocks. The window was five days like I said, and five days is what the window is, and you either work the window or you watch it close. I worked it. The fermentation crocks are heavy with plum and sugar and a starter culture, and by October there will be a vinegar dark enough to use on greens and bright enough to finish a venison stew, and it will taste like June.

Tommy went home to Albuquerque on Sunday. Kai drove down to pick him up because Kai will take any reason to drive to the property, and Danielle came with him, and the four of us sat on the porch Saturday evening and ate venison and bean bread and watched the light go yellow over the blackjack oaks. Danielle asked me if I ever get tired of cooking the same things. I said the things aren't the same. The deer aren't the same deer. The beans aren't from the same harvest. The bread is made by hands that are five years older than the last time I made it. She thought about that and said: so the recipe is the only thing that's the same. I said the recipe is the bone. The meat changes. She nodded and said she liked that, and Kai looked at her like a man who keeps discovering reasons.

Tommy at four is a different child than Tommy at three. Tommy at three asked questions and Tommy at four asks questions and then asks the question behind the question. He held that plum seed all weekend. He carried it in his pocket. When Kai loaded the truck Sunday morning Tommy showed me the seed and said: I take it home. I said: take it home. He said: I plant it. I said: maybe. He said: maybe is yes? I said: maybe is maybe. He thought about that and put the seed back in his pocket and got in the truck. Danielle waved from the passenger seat. Kai drove out the gravel and I stood by the gate until the dust settled.

The kitchen is in a particular kind of late-June rhythm — the abundance management problem, like I keep writing, but with a different center each week. This week the center was berries. The mulberries are in their last flush, and there's a wild blackberry patch along the south fence line that I cleared back in the winter and which is now fruiting heavily. Tuesday I picked four quarts of blackberries in the morning before the sun got too high, and the kitchen smelled like jam by noon. I made the jam by feel — fruit, sugar to taste, a squeeze of lemon, cooked down until a spoon pulled across the bottom of the pot left a clear track for two seconds. That's the test. Two seconds, the jam is set. One second, it's syrup. Three seconds, it's a brick.

Hannah took ten jars to the Elohi office in Tahlequah for the team. The rest are on the shelf. The shelf is becoming what it always becomes by July — a wall of glass jars in the pantry, each one a kind of clock, each one telling you what part of the year you're in by what's in it. Plum vinegar is fermenting. Blackberry jam is sealed. The asparagus pickles from May are halfway to ready. The wild onion oil from April is on the second shelf where the light doesn't hit it. Time, in jars.

I taught Wednesday. The summer cohort is small — only six students, which is what summers do, the bigger numbers come in fall and spring. Two of the six are women this round, which is more than the curriculum has typically seen, and one of them is the granddaughter of a man I taught in the second cohort thirteen years ago. He came by the shop on the first day to thank me and to embarrass her, and she rolled her eyes and tried to disappear and I pretended not to notice. Three generations now, in the welding bay. That's a number I didn't expect to write yet but here it is.

The right shoulder is the right shoulder. I did the exercises Hannah's physical therapist friend wrote out for me. They help and they hurt and the help and the hurt are not separate. I weld with it anyway. There's a way of holding the torch that doesn't pull on the shoulder if I keep my elbow tucked, and I've been teaching that posture to the cohort, partially because it's good technique and partially because I want them to come out of the program without my body. Pass on the skill, not the damage. That's the goal.

The jam was done by noon and the kitchen was still warm from the pot, and I didn’t want to add more heat than I had to — that’s the law of late June cooking, at least here. When I’m already managing the abundance, I want dinner to be the easy part: something light, something that doesn’t fight the season. The recipe below is the one I came back to that week, straightforward enough that it left room for the evening — for the porch, the light over the blackjacks, the kind of conversation that only happens when nobody’s rushing.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless chicken thighs or thin-cut pork chops
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
2 cups fresh blackberries (or halved plums)
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar (or plum vinegar if you have it)
1 shallot, thinly sliced
2 ears of corn, kernels cut from the cob
1 small head of butter lettuce or mixed summer greens
Fresh herbs for finishing — mint, basil, or whatever is coming in

Instructions

Season the protein. Pat chicken or pork dry and coat with 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Let sit at room temperature for 10 minutes while you prepare the rest.
Make the berry pan sauce. In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine blackberries, honey, vinegar, and shallot. Cook, stirring occasionally, until berries break down and the sauce thickens slightly, about 8 to 10 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside.
Cook the protein. Heat a cast iron skillet or grill pan over medium-high. Add remaining tablespoon of oil. Cook chicken thighs 5 to 6 minutes per side, or pork chops 3 to 4 minutes per side, until cooked through with good color. Rest 5 minutes before slicing.
Warm the corn. In the same pan over medium heat, toss corn kernels for 2 to 3 minutes until just warmed and lightly charred at the edges. Season lightly with salt.
Assemble. Arrange greens on a platter or individual plates. Top with sliced protein, scatter warm corn over, and spoon the berry pan sauce across everything. Finish with torn fresh herbs.

Nutrition (per serving)

18 Light Summer Dinner Recipes — What the Window Gives You