Sorghum Salad with Roasted Cherry Tomatoes and Arugula

Jack picked the first ear of corn this week. Year two of the backyard Bodacious. He didn't yell, didn't run to get me — he just brought it inside, set it on the counter, and said, "It's ready." Like a report. Like a man delivering results. He's seven and he delivers agricultural results with the composure of someone who expected this outcome because he engineered this outcome. The corn was perfect — full to the tip, golden kernels, tight rows. Dad's variety, Dad's seed, Jack's soil, Jack's compost, Jack's hands.

I boiled it. Seven minutes. Butter and salt. We ate it at the table, all five of us, the way we did last year — ceremonial, quiet, each bite a small acknowledgment that something important is happening in our backyard. Kevin said, "Still really good corn." Jack said, "The compost improved the sugar content." He can't possibly know that. But the corn did taste sweeter. Maybe the compost. Maybe the year. Maybe the fact that food grown with attention tastes different from food grown with efficiency. I don't know the science. I know the flavor.

I called Dad. "Jack picked the first ear." The same call as last year, the same pause on the other end, the same Roger-quiet that means the old man is feeling something too big for phone lines. "How's the fill?" "Full to the tip." "Good boy." Two words. The whole review. The whole blessing.

The rest of the garden is producing abundantly. The tomatoes are ripening fast — Beefsteaks turning red, Romas going orange to red, cherry tomatoes so prolific that I'm giving them away in grocery bags to anyone who holds still long enough. The peppers are producing. The jalapeños are hot — Jack tasted one and his eyes watered and he said, "Perfect." The sunflowers are nine feet tall. The backyard is a farm. Not the farm. But a farm. And that distinction gets smaller every year.

I made corn fritters for dinner from the extra ears — fresh corn cut off the cob, mixed into a batter of flour, egg, milk, and a little cayenne, dropped by spoonfuls into hot oil and fried until golden. They're crispy on the outside, sweet and tender on the inside, and they taste like August even though it's July. Jack ate six. I'm keeping count because when he's older, I want to tell him about the year he was seven and ate six corn fritters and grew food that fed his family and called his grandfather about the harvest like it was his job, because it was.

The corn fritters took care of the corn, but the cherry tomatoes were another story entirely — bags and bags of them, more than any one family can eat before they turn. I’ve been handing them off at the end of the driveway like I’m running a produce stand, and I still had a colander full sitting on the counter. Roasting them felt like the right answer: a little heat, a little caramelization, and suddenly they taste even more like everything Jack has been tending out back. This sorghum salad is where they ended up, and it was exactly as good as a backyard in July deserves to be.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 cup whole-grain sorghum, rinsed
3 cups water or low-sodium vegetable broth
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
3 cups baby arugula
1/4 cup red onion, thinly sliced
1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
1 small garlic clove, minced

Instructions

Cook the sorghum. Combine sorghum and water (or broth) in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 45–55 minutes until grains are tender but still slightly chewy. Drain any excess liquid and spread on a baking sheet to cool slightly.
Roast the tomatoes. Preheat oven to 400°F. Toss cherry tomatoes with 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and black pepper. Spread in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet and roast 20–25 minutes until blistered and beginning to caramelize. Set aside to cool slightly.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, lemon juice, Dijon, honey, minced garlic, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Assemble the salad. In a large bowl, combine warm sorghum, roasted tomatoes, arugula, and red onion. Drizzle with dressing and toss gently to combine. The warmth of the sorghum and tomatoes will slightly wilt the arugula, which is exactly what you want.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving platter or individual bowls and top with crumbled feta. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sorghum Salad with Roasted Cherry Tomatoes and Arugula — When the Garden Gives You More Than You Can Eat