The Sweet Plums of Summer Have Arrived!

I always thought there were many plum traditions and I was simply on the outside to them. But now, except for the squirrels, I do not see anyone in a passion for the plums, which have only just arrived. I keep the wonderful William Carlos Williams’ poem pinned to my office wall, where it has been for perhaps 30 years.

THIS IS JUST TO SAY

I have eaten 
the plums 
that were in 
the icebox

and which 
you were probably 
saving 
for breakfast

Forgive me 
they were so delicious 
so sweet 
and so cold

I do not honestly know if it is a poem of love, of honesty, or even perhaps a kind of New England cruelty.

But I love plums, when it is their day, and this is their day. Hold them upright and make four slices through to the pit and open them like a four part king’s small crown. Put six of them, like that, in a small pan with some sugar and a tiny bit of vanilla extract and cook/saute softly until they soften and nearly lose all shape. You might cover them for a minute but not more, to release their liquid.

They must be ripe but not over-ripe and they will be a rich plum compote and all the kitchen will smell of plum.  When it has slightly cooled, spoon the sauce over yogurt, or ice cream, or a warm biscuit.

Or make a plum cobbler, with any of the cobbler recipes, and add slices of fresh peach or nectarine, which are also here (you could even do blackberries) and probably 12-16 ready plums, cut as described. Add sugar and the vanilla and stir gently, then add the cobbler to the top of the fruit and cook at 395 for 30 minutes or so. The plums and peaches are perfect pals.

Or make a pastry base, (in Czech: a kolach), and line the surface with the plums cut like the kings hat, standing upright, four or five rows of the plums stuck into the dough. Scatter some sugar atop and bake until the crust is done. Let it cool and serve with cold whipped cream, “so sweet and so cold,” as Williams wrote.

The plums are often sold four or five to a small container. Silly, really, for they are everywhere on the tree. I want dozens of them. They are only a moment of the summer, their lovely skin, their sweet juice, their brightest red.