Let’s be honest: I’m not the pickling artist in the family. Normally I leave these things to others, but something needed to be done with the two banana peppers from last month’s trip to the market—they were starting to look a little sad.

Wishfully thinking about pizza possibilities, I decided there was no choice but to pickle these babies. Tom was busy making dinner, so this had to be a Martha project. As Tom pointed out, a one-quart Ball jar wasn’t going to work for two lonely peppers. Not wanting to give up for lack of a not-too-big jar, I dug a Bonne Maman jam jar out of the recycling and set to slicing:

• 2 banana peppers, seeded and sliced into rings

Once I had the peppers sliced, I stuffed them into the jar.

For my pint-sized jar I needed a little under a cup of pickling juice. First question. What goes into the jars? (I guess I should have read this post a little more closely.) Tom normally uses two parts vinegar to one part water with 2 tablespoons of salt and adds sugar as applicable. Working with a small jar, I upped the vinegar a bit and brought down the salt:

• 3/4 cup white vinegar
• 1/4 cup water
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 1/2 tablespoon sugar

With these four ingredients combined in a small pot over high heat, I opened the spice cupboard and asked a few more questions. Tom had advice for the pickling spices: garlic and mustard seeds were a must, and I offered up a bay leaf and red pepper flakes—then thought better of it—and opted for whole dried chiles instead.

• 2 small garlic cloves, smashed
• Pinch of mustard seeds (black, yellow, or both)
• 1 bay leaf
• 1–2 dried chiles, whole (or substitute a spoonful of red pepper flakes)

The next step is to add the pickling spices and garlic to the jar of peppers. Once the vinegar mixture has come to a boil, pour it over the peppers until it reaches the rim of the jar.

Done! Now our soon-to-be-pickles need to cool. After the jar and contents hit room temperature, cover, refrigerate, and enjoy in a day or two… preferably on pizza.

We’re really on the brink between two seasons at the Farmers’ Market: looking in one direction there are enough ripe tomatoes, ears of sweet corn and red peppers to make you think it’s high summer. But the next stall down is stocked with the winter squash, storage onions and gnarly root vegetables that make you apprehensive of cold months to come. There are some notable changes from the summer market: this week was the first in which I didn’t see cucumbers available anywhere. Onions, which earlier in the year came with their green stems still attached, are coated with brown or red papery skins after being out of the ground for a few weeks. Where you could once buy new potatoes that were perfect lightly steamed and dipped in aïoli, now the potatoes are large and require more aggressive treatment. I am afraid tomatoes and zucchini will be the next to go.

In past weeks I have been reluctant to embrace some of the new fall vegetables, but this week it was time to accept change. It was hard to resist all that beautiful squash! I am a sucker for a pretty package, so I had to buy an orange and green flecked Carnival squash (a flavorful acorn squash variety). I also bought a red Kuri squash on good past experiences and a very strong recommendation from the farmer. Finally, I bought a butternut squash, because it seems to be the most popular variety for recipes — I have a few that use it.

Cabbage isn’t exclusively a fall vegetable; it’s available most of the summer, too. Although I buy a cabbage now and then in the summer, a head is more than I can use in a week or two (so I  end up pickling it). This week, Martha saw some smaller heads of cabbage, and I got to thinking of warm fall cabbage dishes and the sale was made. It didn’t hurt that we could bundle the cabbage with all the shallots we’ll need for the winter for $5.

If you read these farmers’ market posts regularly you would have noticed over the last few weeks that I was really not looking forward to fall. When we got home and laid everything out on the kitchen table, though, I was excited. At the end of summer, I found myself buying the same vegetables each week. There are more than a few ways to combine these vegetables, but I was getting a little bored seeing more or less the same pile every week (I can only imagine your pain, reader). So it was refreshing to see squash and cabbages cropping up. And as I thought through the morning’s bounty trying to figure out how I would use all this stuff up in a week, I noticed that my brain had switched from summer cooking mode to fall: I was thinking less about grilled meats, salads, and slices of fresh tomatoes and more about rich braises of cabbage and apples, deeply roasted squash, and all the other hearty comforts of fall food. With only a month and a half left for the market, there are many good dishes to bring the season to a close.

Eighty degree weather notwithstanding, I can’t shake the feeling that summer is soon to end and that a short fall will in no time at all be heralding in dark, cold winter. But as far as the farmers’ market is concerned, these fears are unfounded: fall might be around the corner, but there is still an abundance of ripe summer produce. In fact, with eggplants and summer squash, tomatoes, onions, red peppers and herbs all in season now is the time for ratatouille, the Provençal vegetable stew.

When I am looking to make French food, I always turn first to Elizabeth David’s French Provincial Cooking (I am inordinately proud of my first American edition—thanks Mom and Dad), a shining example among the many books that treat the subject of French cooking. On ratatouille, David says:

There are any amounts of versions of this dish, the variations being mainly in the proportions of each vegetable employed, the vegetables themselves being nearly always the same ones: aubergines, sweet peppers, onions, tomatoes, with courgettes sometimes being added and occasionally potatoes as well. Some people add mushrooms, but this is a rather pointless addition because they get completely lost in the mass of other vegetables. Garlic is optional, but the cooking medium must be olive oil.

To make a dish of ratatouille sufficient for about eight people, the ingredients are 3 medium-sized onions, 3 large aubergines, 3 large sweet red peppers, 3 courgettes [zucchini], 4 large tomatoes, 2 cloves of garlic, a few coriander seeds, fresh or dried basil if available, or parsley, 2 coffee-cups (after-dinner size) of olive oil. (242)

The first thing was to deal with the eggplant (ahem, aubergine) and summer squash, specifically with their overabundance of moisture. To get rid of some of their extra liquid, I sliced 3 long, spindly japanese eggplant and 4 thin, bright-yellow summer squashes into 1/4″ rounds on the mandoline (easily my favorite new kitchen tool this year). I then tossed them with a teaspoon of salt and spread everything out on a cooling rack set over a sheet pan to drain (you can also use a colander, but I feel spreading the vegetables out over a cooling rack helps them to drain more effectively). After an hour, I pressed the vegetable slices firmly with an absorbent towel to push out as much moisture as possible. A soggy ratatouille won’t do!

With the eggplant and squash prepped, I was ready to start cooking. I first sautéed three sliced onions in a generous amount of olive oil (not quite as generous as two teacupfuls, after-dinner or otherwise) until the onions were soft but not browned. To this I added the eggplant, squash and 3 finely chopped bell peppers. I cooked this mixture covered over medium-low heat for 40 minutes.

While the eggplant, squash, peppers and onions were stewing away I peeled and seeded 10 roma tomatoes (I had heirlooms from the market but it seemed a shame to cook them) and chopped them fine. Per Elizabeth David’s suggestion I also ground up a few coriander seeds and added them to the tomatoes. After the prescribed 40 minutes of cooking, I added the tomatoes and coriander to the pot with the eggplant, squash, onions and peppers and let it cook, mostly covered, for another 20 minutes while the tomatoes softened.

After the hour of cooking, I used a spoon to try the broth that had developed. What an amazing taste of late summer! The broth was rich, earthy and even very sweet. The vegetables really required no additional seasoning, but I added a little salt to brighten the flavor even more.

Just before serving, I mixed in 1/3 cup of basil chiffonade and 1/4 c of minced parsley. I only just realized that David suggests using one or the other, but really, who could choose?

One essential accompaniment for eating ratatouille is plenty of crusty bread to use to mop up all the juices. Given the farmers’ market theme of this lunch my dining companions and I were happy to indulge in a delicious and culturally appropriate pain de campagne from Brett of Real Bread.

And while I couldn’t bear to cook my heirloom tomatoes, neither could I resist eating them immediately. They were typically sweet, acidic and tomato-ey in a salad with cucumber and goat cheese. I added a little olive oil and vinegar, but the tomato juice itself is dressing enough.

Ratatouille is such an ideal dish for this time of year. For one thing, it is a good way to use all that zucchini/summer squash and eggplant that you are feeling so guilty about not eating yet. More importantly, it is a dish of great simplicity that depends entirely on the quality of its ingredients. For some people French cooking has the reputation of being highly technical and focused on transforming raw ingredients into something entirely new—the English used to accuse the French of inventing sauces as a way of disguising bad ingredients buried underneath. But French cooking understands—along with many other culinary traditions— that dishes will only be as good as the ingredients they started with. For something as straightforward as ratatouille, the phrase “garbage in, garbage out” very much applies. Luckily, the produce available in farmers’ markets right now is about as far from garbage as you can get.

There’s really a lot in ratatouille’s favor: it’s simple, it’s hearty, it’s full of flavor, it’s even vegan! About the only downside I can think of is that it can only be made at this time of year, when the peak seasons of its various parts coincide. All the more reason to enjoy it while you can.

After my surprise at seeing squash and brussels sprouts at the Midtown Farmers’ Market last week left me anxious about the coming of the end of the growing season in Minnesota, it was nice to notice this week that in spite of the appearance of these late-season vegetables the summer growing season remains in swing. There’s still time left to get some of the most beautiful produce this state has to offer.

Every time we arrive at the market I worry that there won’t be any more tomatoes. Not this week, though: we got our mixed heirlooms and Sungold tomatoes from Honey Creek Farm, and picked up some romas for sauce purposes. I found summer squash with the most intensely-yellow skin I have ever seen and long, flawless Japanese eggplants whose deep-purple color made me think of royal robes or red wine. Multicolored peppers can be had for a fraction of what they cost at the supermarket the rest of the year. Everything is getting bigger, too: huge heads of broccoli and cauliflower, baseball-sized potatoes, and for $2 more fennel than I normally eat in a whole year. Everything seems to be at its peak of ripeness and beauty—this is the time of year to be at the market.

And as if the amazing produce wasn’t reason enough to go to the Midtown Farmers’ Market, it was also Scandinavian day! We sampled some Danish Æbleskiver with Martha’s parents—our guests for the weekend. Juan and Linda were initially drawn to the æbleskiver for their similar size and shape to buñuelos, a Colombian cheese bread.

Like spherical pancakes, the æbleskiver were light and fluffy, dusted with powdered sugar and served with strawberry (as opposed to, say, lingonberry) jam.

Only in Minnesota!

You’ve no doubt heard about the latest apple innovation from the University of Minnesota: the SweeTango. Hot on the heels of the success of the Honeycrisp variety, the world is abuzz about this apple that promises to out honeycrisp the honeycrisp: a juicy, tart, sweet and crisp apple. I’ve been a big fan of Honeycrisps since I was first introduced to them a few years ago, so I was very interested in trying SweeTango—a cross of Honeycrisp and Zestar. At Kowalski’s on a late-night ice cream run, I saw the big display of apples and, in spite of the stupid name, came home with a couple of SweeTangos.

I cut into the apple with great expectation and was rewarded with a hearty crunching sound as blades pushed through crisp apple flesh. And then the moment of truth: as I bit into the SweeTango, my mouth was filled with sweet juice. Almost immediately, I started to pucker; the substantial acid was kicking in. This apple really has it all: firm crunchy flesh, lots of juice and a perfect balance of honey sweetness and lemony tartness, both flavors in abundance. Martha, not a fan of apple skin, appreciated that the skin on the SweeTango is thick enough to be noticeable but not so chewy as to remain in your mouth after the rest of the apple has been eaten. The flavor is similar to a honeycrisp with its floral character, but is bolder.

This apple is amazing raw; quite possibly the best apple I have ever eaten. I am guessing it would also be great for baking with its balance of sweet and tart and big flavor. Although I’m not in the pocket of Big Apples, I willingly fall in with all the rest of the hype.

SweeTango apples are $3.99/lb. at Kowalski’s, or about $2/apple.