The Daily: 21 July 2025

In my calendar, the season of Lughnasadh begins today. This is my favorite time of year. Fairs and food and the soon-to-be dwindling of summer heat — and dwindling of summer activity. (Hopefully, dwindling of summer bugs!!!) This season is marked by the eponymous Irish holiday, the day that the god of the tribe, Lugh, set aside as a wake honoring his foster-mother who died while plowing all the fields in one night. (A distressingly common death for women in Irish myth…) Lughnasadh is now fixed on August 1st, and we know little about how it was originally celebrated. However, what has come down to us is focused on merry hilltop gatherings and bilberry harvesting, especially on Bilberry Sunday, or Crom Dubh Sunday, the last Sunday in July. At least since the 18th century, this has also been the opening of the potato harvest. It is now so important to eat new potatoes on the feast of Lugh, that neighbors will share out their harvest with others whose fields are not yet ready to dig. (Like my potato beds, right now…) If you don’t eat those new potatoes on Lughnasadh, bad things happen and apparently that bad luck is contagious. So, of course, give over the spuds if you have them, or face all manner of calamity in the next year.

In the 19th century, another festival was added to the season, mostly in an attempt to moderate the boisterousness of Lughnasadh. Lammas is ostensibly a Christian feast, celebrating bread. Not sure if it was originally tied to the Eucharist, but as it is commonly observed, the bread in question is earthly, often elaborately baked and braided, sometimes wheat, sometimes barley, but just bread. Unlike Ireland, which has never been much of a grain producer, East Anglia, where Lammas began, is the bread belt of the British Islands; and this time of year is when there used to be hiring fairs for the upcoming harvest. Lammas was the last bit of summer fun before the real work of bringing in the grain began. It does seem a little backwards to have a grain harvest feast before the grain is actually harvested, but whatever… These days, there are no fairs because harvest labor is now one guy driving a combine. Also, these days, the harvest is already underway before Lammastide most years. In fact, this year it might be done before Lammas, though it is not going to be a good year, what with this year’s once again unprecedented heat and drought.

I tend to combine the themes of Lughnasadh and Lammas. I am Irish, but I am not big on potatoes in summer, even when I can dig them this early — which is not often. Potatoes are just too heavy to eat in 90°F weather. I prefer bread. And really, I prefer corn bread in summer because it cooks so fast that it doesn’t heat up the kitchen. Plus… it’s corn bread. It goes with all the summer food! Of which there are berries, though not yet blueberries. Right now, it’s raspberry season, though that is tailing off finally.

I also like to tromp up to the well in the woods. It’s at the top of the hill that holds my neighborhood, so it’s sort of like heading up to the heights to celebrate. (At this time of year, it’s at the low of the tick breeding cycle, so it’s nominally safe… I still wear long pants and keep away from the verge…) Plus, there is a watery theme in the oldest Lughnasadh traditions. Many well-dressing competitions happen around now. Beach horse racing and swimming races and even ball games played in waist-deep water are all common. And the central mythos of Lugh is as a storm bringer whose magical bolt quenches the scorching summer sun.

Lugh is sometimes called a sun god, sometimes a grain god, sometimes a warrior. He is none of those things. Or maybe he is everything. He is a Trickster, the Samildanach, all gifted, clever handed. But he is not the sun of late summer, that which will dry up all wells and burn the crops in the fields. Lugh is the defender from summer sun. He slays his grandfather, the baleful Balor, by putting out Balor’s magic eye. The gaze from this eye sears all it touches. It must be quenched for the tribe to survive. So Lugh takes out his spear and impales the eye, knocking it clear through Balor’s head, frying Balor’s following army in the process. In any case, Lugh brings the summer storms, blocking the baleful August sun and cooling the lands with rain.

Late summer rain does tend to interfere with a grain harvest, but then, Lugh is not a grain god… And this year, I think the guy in a combine would love for Lugh to bring relief from the drought, even if it means a ruined field or two.

There are, of course, other harvests besides grain though. Berries start in June and run right through September (when the Pooka spits on them…), and all of them need rain as well as sun. Around Lughnasadh, you could still have a few handfuls of strawberries each week, a pint or so of raspberries, a half cup of gooseberries, maybe some currants, and perhaps even some early blueberries. But with no rain, you get no fruit. You get seeds with a tough and bitter rind.

Then there is the garden veg. At Lughnasadh in my part of the world, the cool season veg is giving out, and the summer foods are on the cusp of ripening. I am very glad Lugh is bringing rain to my part of the world right now. A drought while the tomatoes are setting is devastating. And apples, if fruit has set at all, will just drop off the trees, making a smelly carpet of green rocks, upon which you will likely sprain an ankle…

Beyond veg there are other harvests, too. It is not yet oyster season, even though this Friday is St James Day with all its attendant oyster hoopla. However, the Atlantic salmon are running this time of year, and that too comes with hoopla. At Berwick-upon-Tweed in Northumberland, this is Salmon Week, culminating in the Tweedmouth Feast. They even elect a Salmon Queen to grace the festivities and feasting. This is one of those things that makes me want to get in an airplane. I use the sour grapes logic that this is Atlantic salmon and not the chinook and sockeye I love, so after the trans-Atlantic flight it might be a let-down. (No… it wouldn’t…)

In Albuquerque, there is this guy who has a boat. Now, let me say to those who don’t the geography of the Southwest US, Albuquerque is about as land-locked as it gets… But for whatever reason, he has a boat and he fishes the north Pacific every year, freezes it, and sells the fish at the local farmers’ markets. He had the best salmon I have ever tasted. Made great sushi, sashimi, and if you smoked it just the slightest bit and wrapped it in a hot blue corn tortilla with a bit of cabbage lime salsa, it made the most delectable fish tacos imaginable.

Then in late June, at Indian Market at the Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art in Indianapolis, there is often a contingent of several Pacific Northwest nations working together on a salmon smoking stand. They bring their own wood as far as I can tell because you can’t find trees that resinous in the Midwest. They build this tripod contraption and suspend the fish on steel screens over the smoldering fire. I have scalded myself on that fish every time because you just can’t not take a bite as soon as they hand it to you, hot and redolent and so, so juicy.

Salmon has been a staple food for so many peoples that these beautiful fish have squirmed into the center of many cultures. For example in Irish myth, Salmon is one of the four mystical beasts of wisdom. Tradition claims that they live in sacred pools, feeding on hazelnuts that drop into the holy waters. The son of the sea, Manannán mac Lir, keeps the Salmon of Wisdom as a pet and confidant. But anyone can ask the fish for advice. Sometimes you’ll even get a straight answer. However, many questing legends stipulate that to acquire the sum of the salmon’s wisdom, you must physically catch the wily fish, stew it for days, months, possibly a year, and then eat it. This is how Fionn mac Cumhaill became a demi-god and how Taliesin became the world’s supreme bard. I’m pretty sure these are all Just So Stories because, of course, anyone who eats salmon is a pretty smart cookie. Or at least pretty healthy.

I don’t eat much salmon these days. There is no local equivalent of the guy with a boat selling wild caught fish at the markets around here. But, in any case, Atlantic salmon are in rapid decline here in New England. (I think in old England also, but I don’t know as much about that.) Too many rivers have become unnavigable with dams and channeling. Pollution is so high in many rivers and streams and lakes that humans can’t even swim those waters, never mind fish… Certainly, you wouldn’t want to eat a fish that managed to survive an algae bloom somehow. Cut off from reproduction, salmon stocks are crashing all over the place. Some river watchers count just one or two anadromous fish a year now, where there are stories of shad and salmon runs so thick you could walk across the river on their backs. I can’t even imagine that… I have yet to see one salmon in any New England waterway…

That said, I have made a salmon, kale and mushroom quiche for Bilberry Sunday this weekend. The salmon in question is farmed Atlantic, which is about all that is available of Atlantic salmon these days. Salmon farming is not the unmitigated catastrophe that it was once thought to be — fish we eat swimming in their own excrement! oh the horror! (like that’s not the exact state of all fish… and have you seen a CAFO? from whence comes nearly all the land-derived meat you put in your mouth…). However, salmon farming is not producing salmon… The fish may superficially resemble a salmon, may even be able to give you some good advice for all I know, but it does not look like salmon meat and it tastes like… fish… like tuna, canned tuna, the chicken of the sea… That is, it tastes like saltwater, I suppose. (And fish poop.)

As most of you know, I’ve been a little out of sorts these past few weeks. Luckily, this happened in a garden lull. The planting was done, spring veg was finishing up, the summer harvest hasn’t yet swung into high gear, and it isn’t quite time to plant for fall yet. (That will happen probably next week or so…). Still, there were some things to address. The raspberries will keep going. So, too, the romaine. I don’t even know how, since it’s been so hot, but I’m not questioning free salad greens (especially since those at the co-op are… somewhat north of the price of gold now). Toast up some hazelnuts, toss in a palmful of dried cranberries and drizzle the whole thing with raspberry vinaigrette. Then, add a slice of bread and you have a fairly substantial meal in one.

There have also been peas. It’s been so long since I’ve actually had a pea harvest that I’d forgotten how many peas you get when you get peas. I have two gallons in the freezer (in one-quart bags, because, no, you can’t use a gallon of peas at once). The last round I picked might have filled another bag or so, but I was just done with that. I thought briefly of making soup, but dried peas are better for that. So I improvised.

I steamed the peas and boiled about a cup of wild rice. I mixed a quarter cup of plain yogurt with Penzeys Hot Curry spice mix. (Because I haven’t mixed up any of my own recently…) When the peas were done, I tossed them with the spiced yogurt. Then, I added raisins, probably a half cup. Finally, I mixed in the cooked wild rice. And that was dinner. It was actually three nights of dinner. And I can report that it’s just as good cold as hot, making it a perfect summer food in my books.

I like kitchen improv, but I know that’s daunting for many people. As I was eating this very simple but very delicious meal, I started thinking: Why are there not many (or any?) cookbooks dedicated to easy meals to make from garden produce? I’d like a cookbook that tells you what to do with gallons of peas when you really don’t feel like heating up the kitchen. Not even to blanch the veg. I want a Practical Meals for Harried Gardeners cookbook. It should include about 12,000 recipes for zucchini. And how to make gazpacho without turning on a single burner. And most of the meals should both last for several nights and should fit in one bowl. No troublesome “sides”. Minimal dishes to wash. Also, most of the recipes should be variable, able to stretch over whatever you have in excess.

For example, my pea and rice curry could be a framework for a large number of dishes. (It actually is… most folks call it “beans and rice”…) I used wild rice because that was on sale in the bulk section a few weeks ago and I still have half a bag, but many grains go with peas. I think pearled barley with an herb sauce would be delicious. Mix chervil, chives, summer savory and parsley into yogurt or maybe applesauce and toss that with peas. That might even be good with dried cranberries. (I like dried cranberries in everything…) And there you have another meal that will last several days, made in minutes with minimal fuss, using what you have in the pantry and garden.

We need much more of this type of cooking, I’d say. It’s so easy and who wants to work hard after working all day… But also we need to rethink the whole idea of a meal. A meal isn’t a meat and a couple other things on the side. A meal is whatever food you need to consume to make a balanced diet. It might not even be a meal, just a series of healthy snacks all day long. But most importantly, it should bend around what is available, what is in season locally. It should not break you or your place…

If producing more of our own food is a goal, then we probably also need to learn how to use — eat! — the food we grow. But our ideas on food do not mesh well with garden rhythms and flows. Truthfully, our ideas on food don’t mesh with any rhythms or flows. That’s why fast food is a thing, after all… Who has time after work or alongside child-rearing to create the elaborate arrangements that feature in most cookbooks and magazines? Who even has time to acquire the specialty foods or equipment? Now, add in a demanding garden that is overrunning the fridge with peas… None of the cookbooks are going to tell you what to do with that because we don’t base meals around peas…

But that does bring me back to Lugh… There is this ridiculous manga series (okay, yes, all manga is ridiculous, that’s the point of manga…). But in this particular ridiculous manga series, Lugh is reincarnated as an assassin. Or, rather, he’s an assassin in a former life who is reincarnated as a child to become an assassin in this lifetime… The back-story is rather complicated… In any case, he has skills. Many skills. As befits one named Lugh. One thing that pops up is his cooking talents. Supposedly, in his former assassin days, he was required to impersonate a famous chef to infiltrate the mark’s household. But chefs don’t typically take whatever they find in the back of the fridge and turn it into mouth-watering delight. Chefs order their surroundings and work with what they want to work with. Lugh, however, is a master of kitchen improv. Give him a packet of ramen noodles and a jar of peanut butter and he could make you swoon. He is all-talented after all…

But shouldn’t that be a skill we all should cultivate? We all eat. We all have those days when all we have is a jar of ketchup and some dried beans. And if we garden, then we will occasionally have a glut of peas. Or zucchini. And not much else because who has time to go to the store… Wouldn’t it be great to be able to make food you love from whatever you have? Even better, wouldn’t it be great to be able to make food your kids will love! And love so much that they’ll eat “leftovers” for days!

I like this rendition of Lugh, though I could leave out the assassin bits. I like the Trickster who can do anything simply because he ignores the shoulds and should-nots. Shouldn’t mix peas and wild rice and curry and raisins? Why ever not! Seems the perfect way to honor the time! To honor YOUR time!

And Lugh would most definitely approve…

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And now… here are some pretty things from the garden this week…

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©Elizabeth Anker 2025