The signs are there. Not just the back-to-school sales advertised all over, not the date on the calendar, but the sense that summer is ending. For me, there’s always a certain melancholy that comes with it — a leaving-behind feeling. The shore is still there. The days are still hot. But there’s something undeniably fleeting about the approach of Labor Day, a sense that the clock has started running even though nothing around you looks any different yet.
I find myself searching for summer songs and blasting them as loud as I dare whenever I’m in the car, like I can hold the season in place a little longer through the radio. I’ve got at least one more shore day planned — lunch on the porch at Amelia’s By The Sea in Spring Lake — and I intend to enjoy every minute of it.
It makes me a little sad, if I’m honest. I sometimes wonder if that’s part of why fall is so cool and crisp, why the leaves turn such lovely colors — maybe it’s nature’s way of distracting us from what we’ve left behind, and easing us toward wherever we’re headed next. I don’t know. I just know the end of summer always makes me a little sad.
This weekend, though, is still ours. Corn on the grill, watermelon the size of a bowling ball, and as many hours outside as the daylight will give us. Dog days, but the good kind.
Farm Stand Report
The farm stand is starting to show its late-summer age this week — a little droopy, a little faded, plenty of plants that have gone to seed and are calling it quits for the season. But there’s still good stuff if you know where to look. The beefsteak tomatoes are holding on beautifully, and the peaches were surprisingly sparse — grab them while you can, that window’s closing. But the real showstoppers this week were the watermelons. Dark green orbs, perfectly round, heavy and solid in your hands like an old-school bowling ball. These are Jersey Sugar Baby watermelons, grown down in South Jersey, and once I picked one up I had to know more.
Turns out Sugar Baby earned its nickname “the icebox melon” — it was bred back in 1959 to solve a very practical kitchen problem: regular watermelons were too big to fit in a standard fridge. At just 6 to 10 pounds, about the size of a bowling ball, a Sugar Baby slides right onto a single shelf. That deep, almost-black rind isn’t just for looks either — it soaks up heat on the vine, which is part of why these ripen in a speedy 75 to 80 days, nearly two weeks faster than the bigger heirloom varieties. And despite the compact size, the flesh is deep red, fine-grained, and packed with sugar. South Jersey turns out to be practically built for growing them — the sandy loam soil down in Cumberland, Gloucester, Salem, and Atlantic counties drains beautifully so the roots never sit in water, and that same sandy ground heats up fast in spring and holds its warmth into late summer, exactly what watermelons want for converting starches into sugar. The drier soil as the fruit ripens keeps them from taking on excess water too, which is why they taste so concentrated and sweet. If you’re picking your own, look for the field spot — where it rested on the ground — to have turned buttery yellow, and check that the little curly tendril near the stem has gone completely brown and dry. And don’t toss the rind: it’s thin enough to pickle, and one melon gives you 4 to 6 servings, so nothing goes to waste sitting in the fridge.
Worth Knowing
Update from my tomato plants: remember I mentioned needing to give them more room to spread their roots? Well, I did it — and now I’ve got big, healthy plants covered in yellow blossoms, fingers crossed they turn into tomatoes. One thing I’ve learned along the way: eggshells are a wonderful natural source of calcium carbonate, which supports root growth and helps neutralize soil acidity. The catch is they take forever to break down on their own, so I’ve started making an eggshell “tea” — steep crushed eggshells in boiling water, let it cool, then water your plants with it. Bonus: whatever eggshell bits are left over double as a natural deterrent for slugs and snails.
The Weekend Menu
Friday — Arrival / Happy Hour
Charred Sweet Corn & Goat Cheese Crostini
Grilled Corn on the Cob, Three Ways — herb compound butters (Basil-Parmesan-Garlic / Chive & Lemon Zest / Rosemary-Honey or Thyme-Honey)
Simple antipasto board — prosciutto, melon, olives
Saturday — Full Table
Grilled Corn, Tomato & Watermelon Salad
Grilled Chicken Tacos with Sweet Corn & Peach Salsa
Zoodles in Light Olive Oil-Butter, Salt & Pepper
Sunday — Featured Recipe
Blueberry, Corn, and Basil Salad with Lime-Jalapeño Dressing (Featured Recipe)
Grilled shrimp or fish with lemon
Store-bought gelato
Chilled Sweet Corn Agua Fresca with Lime & Mint
Featured Recipe: Blueberry, Corn, and Basil Salad with Lime-Jalapeño Dressing
Serves 6 as a side
Ingredients
For the salad:
4 ears fresh white corn, husked
1 ½ cups fresh blueberries
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
⅓ cup fresh basil leaves, torn
¼ cup crumbled feta or goat cheese (optional)
For the lime-jalapeño dressing:
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 large lime)
1 teaspoon lime zest
1 small jalapeño, seeded and finely minced (leave a few seeds in for more heat)
1 teaspoon honey
½ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
Freshly cracked black pepper
Instructions
Cook the corn. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add the corn and cook for 4–5 minutes, until just tender. Drain and let cool enough to handle.
Cut the kernels. Stand each ear upright in a large bowl and slice the kernels off with a sharp knife, letting them fall into the bowl.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, lime juice, lime zest, minced jalapeño, honey, salt, and pepper until well combined.
Assemble the salad. Add the blueberries and halved cherry tomatoes to the bowl with the corn. Pour the dressing over the top and toss gently to combine.
Finish and serve. Fold in the torn basil just before serving. Top with crumbled feta or goat cheese, if using. Serve at room temperature or lightly chilled.
Nonna’s Note: This one’s as pretty as it is easy — the kind of dish that looks like you fussed over it when really it just needed good produce and five minutes.
Shoppable List
Produce: Corn, blueberries, fresh basil, fresh chives, fresh rosemary or thyme, beefsteak tomatoes, Jersey Sugar Baby watermelon, zucchini, limes, jalapeño, peaches, cilantro, fresh mint
Dairy/Pantry: Butter, Parmesan, goat cheese, honey, garlic
Protein: Chicken thighs, shrimp or white fish
Other: Corn tortillas, rustic bread, prosciutto, olives, melon, store-bought gelato
A little something from Jersey Nonna Publications: if corn season has you cooking every night this week, my Red Ripe and Ready cookbook has a few more ways to keep it going past Sunday.
Nonna’s Notebook
My love affair with gelato started on a boat. We were pulling into Montreux, Switzerland — a lovely little resort town on the eastern shore of Lake Geneva, in the French-speaking part of the country. Old, charming, the kind of place that feels like it hasn’t hurried in a hundred years. We landed right at the town’s market square, the Place du Marché, where — of all things — there’s a ten-foot bronze statue of Freddie Mercury. Turns out he lived in Montreux for a time, right along the lake, and fans still make the pilgrimage to leave yellow flowers at his feet, his favorite color. It’s a strange and wonderful detail for a place that quiet.
But if you ask me, Montreux deserves to be famous for something else entirely: pistachio gelato.
Up a steep little walk from the market square sits Ristorante La Rouvenaz, and tucked beside it is a small window shop called La Gelateria, serving traditional, rich Italian gelato and sorbet — the kind meant to be savored slowly on the restaurant's patio, with its view of the lake. That's where I had my first real pistachio gelato. Not the fake-green, candy-flavored kind — this tasted like actual, freshly shelled pistachios: cold, creamy, and somehow completely fresh all at once. I remember sitting on that patio, the lake stretched out before me, thinking: this is what gelato is supposed to taste like.
Around the House: Compound Butter Make-Ahead
Soften butter and mix in fresh herbs — plus garlic and Parmesan, or lemon zest, or a little honey, depending on which direction you’re taking it. Roll into a log using parchment or plastic wrap, twist the ends, and freeze. Once firm, slice into rounds and keep them in a freezer bag so you always have a pat ready to melt over corn, grilled meat, fish, or warm bread. It’s also a great way to use up garden herbs before the heat makes them bolt — nothing wasted, everything ready when you need it.
Weekend Kitchen Planner
Early in the week (Mon–Wed): Make the herb compound butters — roll into logs, freeze.
Thursday: Shop for produce. Make the peach salsa (holds well, improves overnight). Pull one butter log from the freezer to soften slightly.
Friday: Prep and toast crostini, char corn for topping. Grill all corn for the three-ways; slice butter fresh at serving. Set out the antipasto board just before guests arrive.
Saturday: Cube watermelon and prep tomatoes in the morning; make Sunday’s lime-jalapeño dressing now too, since it holds. Grill corn for the salad and chicken for the tacos. Zoodle the zucchini just before serving so it doesn’t turn watery.
Sunday: Cook the corn for the salad the night before if you like, chill; toss everything else fresh. Grill shrimp or fish just before serving. Agua fresca can be blended the night before. Grab the gelato ahead of time so it’s not a last-minute errand.
Worth Keeping
Food and memory are more tied together than we give them credit for. A single bite — a spoonful of pistachio gelato, a peach still warm from the sun — can hand you back a whole afternoon you thought you’d forgotten. That’s the real reason we keep cooking, keep gathering: not just to eat, but to make something worth remembering later.
Before You Go
There’s something I’ve noticed about Labor Day that goes beyond just summer ending. It’s when everything starts back up. School, activities, volunteering, routines — it all clicks back into gear at once, and with it comes that same itch we usually save for January: the urge to start fresh. Join the gym, eat better, finally read that book. I’ve been feeling it too — flipping through adult course catalogs for classes starting after Labor Day, looking for something to learn, not too ambitious, just enough to challenge me a little and maybe meet some new people along the way. Turns out you don’t need a new year to want a new start. Just a school bus and a little cooler air will do it.
See you next Friday. Bring your appetite.
— The Jersey Nonna