What a rainy spell we’ve had. As I sit here typing, I am wearing a corduroy shirt over another shirt, and I am not exactly feeling hot. Not long ago, we had a blast of heat—too much even for me—and now we’ve swung the other way. I know. Compared with what’s happening in the Southwest, this damp weather is hardly worth mentioning. But for someone like me, who loves being outside as much as possible, it is a bit of a trial to be inside so much. I certainly hope that July and August will be dryer—without going into a drought, of course—than summer has been so far.

As we do most years, Clif and I will be hosting a gathering on the Fourth. In the past, we’ve had good luck with the weather on the Fourth, but with the way it has been this year, we both decided to keep things simple and to make a meal that could be served indoors as well as outdoors. After some thought, I decided to go with barbecue beans in a Crock-Pot and hot dogs with fixings ranging from mustard to sauerkraut to a broccoli slaw. What could be more American than beans and hot dogs? If the weather allows, then the hot dogs will be grilled. If not, then they will be pan-fried inside.

To say that Clif is thrilled with this menu is an understatement. He has a  passion for hot dogs that borders on obsession. (I can hardly throw stones. I have a similar passion for donuts.) Clif has been doing research on hot-dog toppings, and he is the one who came up with the sauerkraut idea. Clif also suggested grated cheese, which we will serve along with the other toppings.

In addition, for appetizers, I’ll be making a cranberry chutney—I still have a bag of cranberries in the freezer—which I’ll combine with some pepper jelly. I’ll spread this on top of softened cream cheese and serve it with tortilla chips.

Our guests will be bringing sides, and I’ll be making a vanilla ice cream pie with a raspberry sauce and a blueberry sauce to drizzle on top. Red, white, and blue.

Therefore, for the next couple of days I’ll be busy cookin’ and cleanin’, as Ida LeClair might say, and following her advice, I have a little schedule devised for myself so that everything doesn’t pile up at the last minute. Today, the ice cream pie, the chutney, and the dusting. Tomorrow, the vacuuming and the sauces for the ice cream pie. Tonight, I’ll soak the beans—white and black. Tomorrow, I’ll cook them so that I can throw them into the Crock-Pot on Thursday morning.

Dividing the chores over a series of days really does help make the preparation easier. Organization doesn’t come easily or naturally to me, but over the years I have improved. By Thursday, I will be ready for my guests. Now, let’s hope the weather gods will be smiling on us.

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A few weeks ago, I positively longed for fresh greens from a Maine garden. I’d had it with the insipid taste of bagged lettuce shipped from across the country. We belong to a CSA run by our own farmer Kev, and I was counting the days until the first delivery.

When that delivery came—I noted it on this blog—I felt as euphoric as a thirsty desert wanderer stumbling over an oasis with a fresh spring. We received two bags of greens, one of lettuce and one of spinach, and Clif and I happily indulged in big, big salads. How good those greens were, and by the end of the first week, we had pretty much finished all that Farmer Kev had brought.

But then the greens just kept coming, and rather than two bags, there were three or four. We ate more salads, some of which have morphed into wraps, and we hosted a salad supper with our friends Judy and Paul. But we still have an abundance of greens in our refrigerator.

What to do? Give some away, perhaps? That is always an option. However, when I was talking with my friend Liz Sienko, she told me about a recipe she had come across for chicken Florentine.  She made some modifications—it called for cream of mushroom soup. Instead, Liz used fresh mushrooms and made a Parmesan, garlic cream sauce. “It was delicious,” she said. And best of all, it uses a lot of spinach. You pretty much cram as much spinach as you can into a large casserole dish. On top of that go raw, sliced mushrooms, cooked chicken, and the garlic cream sauce. Then the whole thing is topped with mozzarella and baked for 20 minutes or so until the casserole is brown and bubbly.

I made Liz’s chicken Florentine a few days ago, making some modifications of my own. (Liz had also used a bit of pesto and some onions, which I omitted from my version.) To say that Clif and I liked this dish is an understatement. This recipe should serve at least 4 people, but by the time we were done with dinner, there was barely enough left for one small serving.

“I think we overdid it with the eating,” I said to Clif.

“Yup,” Clif replied. “But it was pretty darned good.” (Yankee-speak for it doesn’t get much better than this.)

It was pretty darned good, and best of all, I used at least 1/3 of a big bag of spinach.

Here are some pictures of how the casserole was constructed:

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At the end of last week, when the weather was still fairly cool, I made a large batch of spaghetti sauce with the intention of putting together a casserole with some ricotta cheese I have in the freezer. On sale, I had bought a package of chicken sausage, and I was planning to add that, too. But yesterday things heated up, and even though I like it hot, baking a casserole on a day when it was 90 in the shade didn’t seem like such a great idea.

“All right,” I said to my husband, Clif. “Here are the choices: I can freeze the sauce for another time. I can pick up some chicken at the store and cook it all in the Crock-Pot. Or, we can just have the sauce over pasta.”

Clif hesitated for only a few minutes. “Let’s have the sauce over pasta.”

As Clif is a huge lover of sauce over pasta, his choice did not surprise me.

With the sauce being pretty a much a stand-alone, it seemed to me that a few additional ingredients would be in order—peppers and mushrooms. Naturally, this is completely a matter of taste. Zucchini or summer squash would also be good additions. Or just the chicken sausage.

In a large skillet, I browned the precooked sausage in olive oil. When the sausages were browned on one side, I added the peppers and let them sizzle. Meanwhile, I had a smaller skillet of sliced mushrooms sautéing. When the peppers were soft, I added the spaghetti sauce to the large skillet. Ditto for the mushrooms. What else? A pinch or two of red pepper, and some leftover wine from the day before, about a quarter of a cup. (Less wine would be fine, too. I thought the sauce was a little sweet. Clif thought it was tasty the way it was.)

While the pasta cooked, the sauce simmered, and when everything was done, Clif and I took our plates out to the patio. The temperature had dropped to 80, just right for me. While we ate, drank iced tea, and chatted, a thrush played its evening song, going up and down on its little pan pipes. A slight breeze ruffled the trees.

With full stomachs, we lounged contentedly on the patio. Did we stay there for the entire evening? We did not. The air was heavy, but there was nary a rumble of thunder, so off we went for a bike ride, by Marancook Lake, where the loons called to each other as twilight came.

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