The heat is relentless. Milwaukee in July is not the frozen tundra everyone imagines — it's humid, sticky, the kind of heat that makes your shirt cling to your back by 9 AM. The brewery is worse. The brewing floor feels like the inside of a bread oven. Marcus and I have been doing early starts — 4 AM brew days to beat the worst of it. There's something meditative about being at the brewery before dawn, when it's just you and the grain and the steam.
I've shifted to summer cooking this week. Light stuff. Cold stuff. Things that don't require turning on the oven in a 400-square-foot apartment with no air conditioning and one window unit that's fighting for its life.
Made a Polish-style tomato salad that Babcia used to make in August — thick-sliced tomatoes from the farmers' market on KK, dressed with sour cream, dill, salt, and a little sugar. The sugar is the secret. It brightens the acidity of the tomatoes without making them sweet. Served cold, on a plate, with good bread. It's the simplest thing in the world and it tastes like summer.
Also made a cold smoked fish plate — inspired by the fish fries that Milwaukee is famous for, but adapted for heat. Smoked whitefish from the fish market on Lincoln Avenue, pickled red onions, capers, pumpernickel bread, a horseradish cream sauce. Laid it all out on a wooden board like a Polish charcuterie situation. It was beautiful and I ate the whole thing while watching a Brewers game in my underwear with the window unit blasting.
Danny's birthday is next month. August 14th. He would have been twenty-two. Same as me — we were born six weeks apart. Every year his birthday gets a little harder, not easier, because the distance between us grows. I'm twenty-one and living a life he never got to have. I'm learning to cook and brewing beer and going to work and coming home and all of it is happening in a world that Danny isn't in. I don't feel guilty about it anymore — I used to, in the first year or two after he died — but I feel the weight of it. The unfairness. The randomness. A sixteen-year-old gets leukemia and dies, and his best friend goes on to make pierogi and drink craft beer and watch the Brewers from a rooftop. There's no sense in it. There's no lesson. There's just the living and the remembering.
I'll visit his grave on the 14th. I'll bring a beer. Danny would have liked beer. He would have liked Helen's Wheat especially — he was the kind of kid who would have been impressed by his friend making something, anything. He would have said, "Dude, you made a beer? That's sick." And I would have punched him in the arm and said, "Shut up, it's not a big deal," even though it is.
The tomato salad Babcia used to make was my jumping-off point all week — the one where the sugar does the quiet, important work of softening the acid without tipping into sweetness. That same logic carries straight into this cucumber salad, which I kept coming back to on the nights when even boiling water felt like too much to ask of my apartment. It’s cold, it’s sharp, it’s got that same sweet-tart balance that makes simple Polish summer food taste like it knows something you don’t. Plate it next to good pumpernickel and whatever’s cold in the fridge, and you’ve got dinner.
Sweet-Tart Cucumber Salad
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes (includes 15 min resting) | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 large English cucumbers, thinly sliced (about 4 cups)
- 1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced into half-moons
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 3 tablespoons white wine vinegar or apple cider vinegar
- 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
- 2 tablespoons sour cream
- 1 tablespoon neutral oil (such as canola or sunflower)
- 2 tablespoons fresh dill, roughly chopped
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
- Salt the cucumbers. Place sliced cucumbers in a colander set over the sink or a bowl. Toss with the kosher salt and let sit for 10–15 minutes to draw out excess water. Pat dry with a clean kitchen towel or paper towels.
- Make the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together the vinegar and sugar until the sugar dissolves completely. Whisk in the sour cream and oil until smooth. Season with black pepper.
- Combine. Add the drained cucumbers and sliced red onion to the bowl. Toss well to coat everything evenly in the dressing.
- Add the dill. Fold in the fresh dill, reserving a small pinch to scatter on top for serving.
- Rest and serve. Let the salad sit for at least 5 minutes before serving so the flavors come together. Serve cold, straight from the bowl or plated, with pumpernickel or rye bread alongside.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 75 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 290mg
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 121 of Jake’s 30-year story
· Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.