A few Augusts ago, my friends Jeni and Ben and their three kids came to visit us. They live on the Upper West Side, which is only about a 20-minute drive from my house, and yet, with full-time jobs and full-time families (their oldest daughter was about 4 which would make her twins 2, and my kids were 6 and 4), we had the hardest time coordinating get-togethers. (You know that famous New Yorker cartoon, “How about never — does never work for you?” That was us.) Well, on this particular occasion, we had by some miracle figured out a time that worked for a drive-by. It was a Saturday — couldn’t do lunch (soccer practice, naps) couldn’t do dinner (twins’ bedtime looming) so we settled on the somewhat odd, not-quite-cocktail-hour of 5:00.
“Just stay for dinner,” I told her when she called that morning.
“No no no,” she said .”Please don’t do anything.”
“But it’s no trouble.”
“Just trust me. It’s more stressful if I try to feed the kids there. Please don’t worry!”
I agreed begrudgingly. But then I hit the farmer’s market where, of course I was bamboozled by my daughters into buying a container of BuddhaPesto. The stuff is so good. I mean, so so good and leprechaun green and fresh you just can’t believe it. (The Times‘ Jeff Gordinier was similarly smitten last summer.) And, since it was August, there were tomatoes. The kind of tomatoes you dream of all year long. Striped, heirloom, green, gold, cherry, plum, little, big, blistered, exploding. The kind of tomatoes you slice at dinnertime, drizzle with a little olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt, and then back away from. Because to do anything more, to add anything else, would be to incur the wrath of the tomato gods…or me, for that matter.
The thing is, I never promised Jeni and Ben I wouldn’t cook for them. Just the kids. So at some point during the course of the family’s two-hour cameo — at which point I think every single toy in the toy box had been removed and discarded on the floor by five gleeful children — I plopped two dinner plates on the table for the grown-ups. Spaghetti tossed with that BuddhaPesto, and slices of heirloom tomatoes (salted, oil-drizzled) that looked like they should’ve been painted by Cezanne. (I can brag about that because I had absolutely nothing to do with it. They came that way.)
You know the Virginia Lee Burton book The Little House about the cottage that stands peacefully still as construction and skyscrapers and general chaos looms all around. That’s how I picture Jeni and Ben eating that dinner. I will never forget how grateful two people could look eating the world’s simplest summer meal, as five screeching kids launched into their fifteenth game of Elefun in the living room.
Jeni tried to fight it, but was powerless in the face of the tomatoes.
“I told you not to do anything,” she attempted weakly.
“I didn’t. I boiled a pot of water. That was the extent of my cooking.”
“But you did! Look at this.”
I guess. But, I reminded her, it doesn’t take much.
Spaghetti with Pesto and Summer Tomatoes
Cook spaghetti according to package directions. Drain, reserving 1/4 cup of pasta water. Toss pasta with a little olive oil while it sits in the colander. Add prepared pesto (the freshest you can find, such as BuddhaPesto) to the same pot you boiled spaghetti in and whisk in a drizzle of pasta water until it’s saucy, but not watery. Add pasta back to the pot and toss. Serve garnished with freshly grated Parmesan.
While spaghetti cooks, slice summer tomatoes onto a plate. Drizzle with a tablespoon or so of the best olive oil you’ve got, sprinkle with sea salt (and pepper, if you must) and serve alongside pasta.
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p.s. My mom LOVED her DALS Mother’s Day gift. (With personalized bookplate!) Thank you!
I read your newsletter. Do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
Looks deelish! I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
feeding the kiddos is always easier to do at home but it is good to expose them to new meals, new people and new places when they eat. its nice to hear that other people go through this dilema.
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That’s what I love about summer dinners – they make themselves!
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
Thank you!
“I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?”
Love this!
I read your newsletter. Do I win Franny’s cookbook?
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
also, this does look yum. You are so good to your friends.
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?”:)
I read your newsletter,do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
Delicious meal – but I disagree with the commenter about regarding people visiting at meal times. This awkward hour was the only time to catch up and they’d specifically requested not to be fed – in my opinion, it’s rude to hand over a full meal. They may have had other plans, or like eating later, or wanted to use up food they had at home and despite politely declining a meal were forced into one. A delicious meal, but in my opinion some small inconsequential bites would have been a more hospitable way to treat guests.
The picture of the pasta and tomatoes is beautiful. The best part of summer is being able to “cook” dinners like this.
“I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?” BTW, this meal looks awesome!
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
Pesto pasta and tomato dinner…double winner! I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
Beautiful, simple & delicious!
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
Yum. I live for summer tomatoes.
I read your newsletter, do I win the Franny’s cookbook?
Buddha Pesto Rocks! So happy to have it at our farmer’s market year round!
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Congrats Kim!