I wrote a column late this summer about election season -- particularly August and early September-- being called Silly Season in Washington, and, I suppose, by pundits elsewhere/everywhere. In D.C. we knew it was Silly Season when people were getting on the subway in shorts, without a sweater (the air conditioning is very cold in the buildings in D.C.). We knew it was Silly Season when we couldn’t get those cheapo weekend rooms at Dewey Beach, or St. Michael’s. These memories are all strongly photographic: the white socks in the sneaker, chubby knees below the shorts, the bellies pressing against thin cotton t shirts that will be too cold in the Air and Space Museum, in the Metro. The haze across the Chesapeake bay bridge. The yellow of the corn at the roadside stands.

This Saturday, the market was 20% open stands. My son asked for raspberries (the last weekend was it), pears (only a week or two left, said the vendor I secretly call Mountain Girl), a Horchata (still going strong). And these were signs: pointing towards velvet, shimmering green. Kale Season.

This week we’ll be trying the Kale and Pork Chops I saw on DALS, and since it was $2 for three bunches, there will be “homemade pirate booty” (Kale Chips), and, I imagine, next week we’ll be eating one of our top 5 favorite pasta dishes: Portuguese Pasta.

Portuguese Pasta (Or, Pasta with Sausage and Kale)
3 tbs olive oil
1 lb hot sausage, crumbled
1/2 lb kale, center ribs discarded, leaves chopped
1/2 lb rigatoni
1/2 c broth
1 oz grated Pecorino plus additional for serving

Directions
Heat oil in a skillet over medium heat until hot but not smoking, add sausage, breaking up any lumps with a spoon, until browned, 5 to 7 minutes.
Meanwhile, blanch kale in a 6-quart pot of boiling salted water, for about 5 minutes, strain.
Return cooking water to a boil, and cook pasta. Drain, reserving 1/2 c pasta water.
While pasta cooks, add kale to sausage in skillet and sauté, stirring, for about 5 minutes. Add broth, stirring and scraping up any brown bits from bottom of skillet.
Add pasta, reserved cooking water to skillet, tossing until combined. Stir in cheese.

We are in a strange season here, fall and Summer, all at once.
Last week I made braised artichokes, and had 3 blankets on the bed, and the next day made skordalia and baba ganoush. We ate pasta with the last of the zucchinis, and some freezer pesto.

It’s hard to get used to this weather, but I think that’s just because the calender says so. It’s been foggy and rainy and cool with intermittent warmth for a month or two, so it makes sense that now it’s finally warm. and after this will come a little more briskness in the air, later mornings, a return of damp at night.

But the calender isn’t from the northwest, and it says orange leaves, and pumpkins, and spice. It doesn’t say bright fresh tasting chili made with over-ripe tomatoes, the first tiny chilis, some marinated pork and beef. It doesn’t say that now is the season for Thai food (all the ingredients are in the market), the days to be taking a hike, and going lake swimming.

J can’t read the calender, he gets up and asks “swimming open?”, he giggles at the idea of a hike. He asks for shorts. He says it is still time for “green one” (basil). My trustiest clocks: the sky, the sun, and J.


Zucchini Pasta
This is a great cooler summer day dinner dish, one that J gobbles up by the handful.
1 clove garlic
6 small, firm zucchini
2 cups packed fresh basil leaves
salt & pepper
1 pound fusili, or other short, stubby pasta
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup mixed grated Parmesan and Pecorino


Directions
Smash and peel the clove of garlic, don't dice
Cut zucchini in to thin (1/4 to 1/8 inch) circles. into 1/8-inch-thick slices.
Warm the olive oil over a low heat with the garlic clove, for about 5 minutes, or until the oil starts sizzling.
Tear basil into thin strips.
Turn oil up to medium-high, remove the garlic (discard), and add the zucchini and 1/4 the basil. DO NOT STIR for 7 minutes. Reduce heat to low and add 1/4 of the basil, season with salt and pepper, put top on the pot until the pasta is ready (but not more than 10 minutes).
Meanwhile, boil water for pasta; cook pasta, reserve 1/2 c cooking water when you drain the pasta.
Combine the pasta, zucchini, butter, remaining basil, 1/4 c of cheese and 1/4 c of the reserved water. Stir to combine and taste. Add more water, salt, pepper as necessary.
Serve with the remaining cheese.
Serves 4-6.

It used to be easy to toss off something a bit unknown or surprising about Italy, or Italian food. Like the fact that the South is pretty vegetarian and tomato oriented, but it’s the North with the best vegetables, despite the emphasis on meat up there. Or the fact that the further North, the less Olive Oil is used: by the time you get to the Swiss border, it’s just used a dash, maybe in a spring salad dressing. Butter is an almost un-heard of luxury in the South-- even cakes are made with olive oil.

But times are changing, even in Italy. More than fish is eaten on Fridays, and gelato has long been available in Naples.

One thing remains the same, though: Rome is the capital of pasta. Because it’s in the middle of Italy, Rome is called the capital of the “mezzogiorno”, the “mid-day”, in between North and South, in between olive oil and butter, meat and tomatoes. A compromise was forged in pasta. Rome has the greatest array of pasta dishes, and the most with meat sauce (unheard of even 50 miles south-- it’s almost all vegetarian sauce, meat was too special). Beyond pasta alone, Rome is really known for its spaghetti.

I grew up in Rome, and developed an unquenchable taste for pasta. I could eat it for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, 5 days a week (I want a hamburger, a banh mi, merguez, and some fish, yogurt, fruit, nuts, and some of M’s pizza, once in a while).

J seems to have inherited my pasta-tooth, but to accommodate his little two-year old fingers, I’ve modified a lot of our old pasta standbys to use penne and rigatoni instead of spaghetti. and in keeping with Italian tradition-- different types of sauces are suitable for different shapes of pasta-- I’ve ended up modifying some of the sauces along the way, too.

Tonight J and I made what I’ve taken to calling Summer Pasta. It started out life, years ago, as a version of a recipe in Patricia Wells’ Trattoria (highly recommended!), but has now, of course, taken on a life-- and flavor of it’s own. I shaved the cheese and diced the tomatoes, J spun the bitter greens and mixed the sauce together (I put the ingredients in individual bowls for him to pour into the large bowl and stir).

Tonight I added basil for the first time ever, but as always it was a total success: J ate two huge adult size helpings... and so did all the adults.


Summer Pasta
This is extremely easy to make, and while the sauce doesn't require cooking, it's a little more "done" and "saucy" than a pasta salad or pasta primavera. You can substitute any sort of bitter greens for the arugola-- the important thin is that the pecorino and bitter greens combine to give the sauced a kick, while the sweet/acid of the tomatoes mellows that out. Olive Oil binds it all together.

Ingredients
6 oz Pecorino
2 oz Parmesan
2 bunches Arugola or other mixed bitter greens
Sea salt
12 oz Tomatoes (use the tastiest ones you can find-- cherry, heirloom, etc-- whatever it takes. In a pinch I've used a can of Muir Glen)
1/2 c Olive Oil
1 lb Rigatoni

Directions
Shave 4 oz of the Pecorino into a large serving bowl. Rinse and spin the Greens, and tear/shred to bite size if necessary; Add to the bowl. Add salt.
Roughly chop the tomatoes and add them and their juices to the bowl, add a little more salt (this will help bring out the juice). Let sit for at least 10 minutes and up to 30.
Meanwhile, bring water for pasta to a boil, and add Rigatoni; cook as package directs.
Grate the remaining Pecorino, grate the parmesan, combine in a separate bowl.
2 Minutes before the pasta is ready, add the olive oil to the other ingredients and stir together.
Drain pasta and add to ingredients, toss to blend. Serve at he table and pass the additional cheese to top individually.