The last summer recipe: gelo di cantalupo

A Sicilian melon pudding | My tormented love affair with summer

I love summer when it’s just beginning. Those early weeks of June are brimming with anticipation, days are finally longer and I have a feeling that I might even enjoy summer, after all. The first tomato salads, the first outings to the coast, bare arms and sun-kissed skin make me feel hopeful, in love. But this romance is bound to end, as I am not a summer person, autumn being my soul season.

I endure the peak of summer convinced that I was born in the wrong country, even though I am still joyously cooking my way through classes and great produce. I might love autumn, but I came to terms with my tormented love affair with summer.

I fiercely love summer again when it’s fading away, when days are getting shorter, the light is warm and golden, and figs dot the trees in the early days of September.

These days, I’m constantly pondering if that will be the last slice of cantaloupe with prosciutto, the last time I will find buttery soft green beans on the market stalls. Have I eaten enough blackberries from the brambles while I was having my morning walk? Will the tomato preserve jars be enough to make it through the year till next summer?

The last days of summer are the realm of mixed feelings: on one side, these days are filled with melancholy for everything that is fading out, but on the other hand, here comes the enthusiasm for a new season that is knocking on the kitchen door, bringing the earthy smell of mushrooms and chestnuts.

What will I miss when summer ends?

The carefree spirit given by longer days, that inexplicable feeling that apparently multiplies the available hours, and a relieving sense of suspension: even when summer is your peak season at work, the fact that everyone else is on holiday reduces the rhythm of emails, requests, and deadlines.

And, of course, I will miss the bounty of its fruit and vegetables, especially now, with the bursting harvest of late summer, when tomatoes, eggplants and zucchini live together on market stalls with the first apples, figs, and wine grapes.

These are days designed to stash provisions for the winter, to preserve the ripest seasonal fruits. It is time to have friends over to sit for the last time in the garden at night, when the air is balmy on your skin and makes you reach for a light shawl.

Joshua McFadden in his first cookbook, Six Seasons, perfectly described this unique season, and all the many reasons to enjoy it with abandon.

“The days begin to grow shorter. The sunlight takes on a more golden glow as it streams from a lower angle, hinting that our warm days are numbered. The fields have had months of sunshine and warmth. Just about everything is going crazy. We still have the vegetables that joined the party early in the season, but now we get the quintessential hot-weather delights: corn, eggplant, tomatoes, peppers. Shell beans are in season now, too, and while not as succulent as these other late-summer entries, they are a treat to enjoy when fresh, and perfect for harvesting and storing for the fall and winter to come.”

From Six Seasons, by Joshua McFadden

To fully embrace this fleeting late summer season, today I’m sharing the last (?) summer recipe on the blog, a Sicilian melon pudding for those last dinner al fresco with your friends.

The last summer recipe: gelo di cantalupo, Sicilian melon pudding

Recipe in collaboration with Consorzio Melone Mantovano PGI

Gelo puddings are very simple desserts, with a slightly retro flavour, easy to make, and modern in their approach. A very short list of ingredients means that they are fresh, gluten-free, and vegan desserts, thus extremely inclusive and suitable for these last summer evenings.

For today's dessert, I chose a sweet, juicy melon and made gelo di cantalupo, which is the Sicilian dialect term for melon.

If you have a juicer, the preparation of a gelo is really straightforward: once I extracted the juice, I added a few tablespoons of elderflower syrup to enhance the aromatic notes of the cantaloupe.

When the gelo was ready, I poured it into the prettiest glasses I had. A few raspberries and a handful of grapes were enough to decorate each pudding with simplicity.

Light and fruity, they end every meal with a delicate, sweet note.

If you’re planning to make this pudding, share the results with us on social media by using the hashtag #myseasonaltable and tagging @julskitchen on Instagram.

If you have questions about the ingredients or the recipe, or want to have a chat, leave a comment.

Did you miss last week's recipe?

On a hot summer afternoon, though, while tidying up after a cooking class, I found myself nibbling at some leftovers and I had a brainwave born from the casual pairing of prosciutto and melone and another classic Tuscan summer dish, probably the most iconic, panzanella.

Panzanella is a stale bread salad rich with tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and fresh basil leaves, dressed with extra virgin olive oil and vinegar. During this sultry summer, I ate my weight in panzanella: it doesn’t require cooking, just a bunch of seasonal ingredients and pantry staples, it is filling, and refreshing, and it helped me upcycle the large quantity of stale bread I accumulated over the weeks, while I was twitching my basic recipe for sourdough bread.

The sweet and salty flavours of prosciutto and melon mingled with the vinegary, aromatic notes of panzanella, and right there, standing at the counter of my messy kitchen, this new dish was born.