I think of this salsa as Mexico in a bowl, the profound culinary flavours of the country embodied here in bursts of sharp purple onion, sweet vine-ripened tomatoes, the tangy jolt of lime juice, spicy peppers with a big kick and the floral flourish of cilantro. It is the cohabitation of these elements that really speaks deeply of Mexican tastes, the flavours I crave when I think of sun-drenched, colourful foods from that sun-drenched, colourful country.

Some salsas are cooked, deep and dark, smooth and savoury. This is a fresh salsa, chunky and robust, with nothing gentle or delicate about it. It is best eaten soon after it is prepared, where the sparkle of ingredients remains bright and inviting. Think of this salsa as more of a salad, a condiment, than a sauce, though it is intensely wonderful liberally spooned over grilled chicken in a sauce-like manner. I enjoy this salsa as a juicy side to fried eggs or a simmering bowl of hot polenta. It is great with BBQ salmon, stuffed into corn tortillas, on nachos or slathered on a juicy steak. When your mouth needs a journey to somewhere tantalizingly spicy, take it to this tomato-laden condiment for a dose of Mexican fun. You will never want to eat grocery store salsa again after a fling with this flavourful, flirty dish.

Fresh Tomato Salsa

4 ripe tomatoes, diced; 1-2 jalapeno peppers, depending on how hot you like things, seeds and ribs removed, diced; 1/4 cup diced Spanish onion; 2 cloves garlic, crushed; 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro; juice of 1/2 a lime; pinch of powdered cumin, optional; salt and pepper to taste; pinch of sugar.

In a medium bowl, combine tomatoes, jalapenos and onion. Add in crushed garlic, lime juice, cumin, salt, pepper and sugar. Mix and taste. Adjust seasoning if needed. Best eaten immediately, as the tomatoes start to leech liquid if left too long. If this does happen, simply drain off the water, stir the salsa and serve. It will still taste great for a few hours.

Enjoy the harvest of summer with salsa and more market fresh foods:

This is what you start with, a vegetable Barbie would like, pretty in its flourescent pink jacket.

And, this is what you get after a good, long simmer in a bath of tomatoes and spices, tender, creamy comfort, stripped of its pink hue but hearty and charming in its own rustic way.

It is quite wonderful how plump and tender these fresh beans are, much different than dried beans, with a softness and sweetness that is deeply endearing. The season for these cranberry beans is short, so I buy them whenever and wherever I find them, adding them to soups, simmering them into fragrant Mediterranean themed stews scented with garlic and fresh thyme. I never tire of their endless charms. You could call me a cranberry bean freak, for the two weeks of the year they are available. I mourn their loss briefly and then quickly become enamoured with other market goods - bright, meaty tomatoes, crisp new crop apples, delicate purple Italian plums for kuchen and jam. That's the good part of falling in love at the produce stand - you can be fickle and change your allegiances every few weeks.

But this week was cranberry bean week and I enlisted my husband to sit at the table with me and shell my bag of beans. Soon enough, my large bag was reduced to the contents of the pods, a few cups of mottled fuscia beans ready for some heat. First task: boil about 3 cups of these babies with a bay leaf and a whole head of garlic. No salt, as it toughens uncooked beans. As the pot simmered, I went to the garden for some sage, foraging 8 large, velvety leaves for the next step in this process. I opened a large can of diced tomatoes and sliced lots more garlic, readying for the cooked beans and what they would do next. When the beans had morphed into gentle tenderness, I reserved a cup of their cooking liquid and drained them, reserving the garlic head, discarding the bay leaf. In a medium sized pot, I warmed up some olive oil and sauteed the sliced garlic, 5 healthy cloves of it, just until aromatic. I added in the cooked beans and their reserved liquid, as well as the tomatoes and their liquid, plus another bay leaf, my garden sage, chopped, and some salt and pepper. I took the whole head of garlic I just rescued from the cooking beans and squeezed out the soft paste inside each papery clove. Mashed it with a knife and added this highly flavoured goodness into the pot of stewing beans. The goal at this stage is to cook down the tomatoes and let them nestle into a soft blanket that surrounds the beans, a thick and savoury sauce. This takes about 25 minutes during which the beans take on loads of flavour. I like to finish off the dish with a long squirt of fresh lemon juice as well as the lemon's finely grated zest, a tart surprise that gets some attention from your tongue. A handful of tiny little fresh thyme leaves works wonder here too, complimenting every element you have included, the sunny lemon scent, the aromatic cooked tomatoes, the generous dose of garlic and the tender beans.

I serve this bean stew as an accompaniment to fried eggs and corn tortillas, next to grilled chicken breasts, on a plate with smoky ribs and crunchy cole slaw. For the brief time the beans are available, this dish is an everyday comfort food. Shelled beans freeze well as does the cooked stew, so make a pilgrimage to your local farmers' market and treat yourself to a seasonal specialty you will fall in love with every summer.

Who knew beans could be so wonderful?

Tomatoes before oven treatment:

After oven treatment:

I never thought I would admit this, but the words "shriveled" and "shrunken" appeal to me. In a tomato kind of way. When a sweet, ripe, meaty tomato takes some serious heat in an oven and comes away greatly reduced. With its essence concentrated in the shrunken flesh, and all the moisture evaporated, the whithered tomato becomes even more of itself. It's an oxymoron.

Decent tomatoes are starting to appear in markets and grocery stores and I am ready with my arsenal of tools: a roasting pan, fresh garlic, olive oil and thyme from the garden. I start with a fragrant Roma tomato and cut it into eighths. It then gets a bath in a glug of good, fruity olive oil, as well as a toss with chopped garlic, sprigs of thyme and salt and pepper to taste. It's already tasting good. Tomatoes like a hot oven, so don't be shy to crank yours to 425 F. Watch those babies darken and shrink. Give them a toss every 15 minutes or so to let the caramelization occur evenly and to prevent sticking. I say 45 minutes or so in the oven should render your tomatoes tender and soft, ready for the next stage in their lives.

Those of you who are fussy about tomato skins have a couple of options. You could peel the tomatoes before roasting by quickly immersing them in boiling water and then removing the skin. I do this though: I let them roast and cool and then quickly and easily pick off the pieces of shrivelled skin with my fingers.

You are now the proud owner of a pan of intensely aromatic roasted tomatoes. You may, of course, devour them on the spot. Standing at the oven. But do keep some for a magnificent pasta sauce. You can gently press them with a potato masher to futher soften the flesh and pair them with your favourite robust pasta, perhaps penne or fusili. Throw in some grated parmesan cheese, loosen with a bit of the pasta cooking water and call it dinner. I used roasted tomatoes as part of a melange of fillings for calzone last night, adding body and flavour to the mozzarella cheese, sauteed mushrooms, olives and roasted peppers they were accompanying. Grilled chicken breasts enjoy being slathered with a scattering of roasted tomatoes overtop as does a halibut steak. Omelettes filled with your withered wonders and little cubes of fresh mozzarella are a fine idea too. In a quiche, on a pizza, beside some garlicy shrimp, strewn over grilled sausages . . . . . . you get the idea.

The next time you see a nice looking tomato, treat it to some time in the oven.

More inspiration for putting tomatoes to good use:

How easy is this? Buy some homemade roasted vegetable ravioli, boil some water and open a can of tomatoes. Voila, you have dinner! I speak the truth. If you live in Calgary, The Italian Store is THE place you must go to, for there is where your dinner awaits you. With a freezer full of many types of homemade stuffed pastas, you can select the shape and filling that speaks to you: Veal tortellini, cheese ravioli, roasted vegetable ravioli, to name a few. I am currently working my way through a 5-pound bag of roasted vegetable ravioli and am loving every moment of it. The usual treatment is a quick boil, drain and then toss with some great canned tomatoes, preferably San Marzanos, also available at The Italian Store. Buy some hard, aged pecorino romano cheese at the same store and sprinkle a generous grating over your cooked, drained, sauced ravioli.

The shelves of The Italian Store are lined with imported Italian pastas in almost every imaginable configuration, including ones you will not see elsewhere. You may recognize brands such as Barilla and De Cecco as well as La Molisana. Prices are great, so I stock up on everything that looks interesting. Sometimes I splurge on an artisinal brand of beautifully shaped noodles, as even at $3.89 a bag, plus a can of San Marzano tomatoes at under $4.00 each, I am still feeding 4 people for less than $8.00! How else can you do that and know you are giving them the best products on earth? This is not a rhetorical question. I would really like to know if you have an answer.

Taralli, fresh pizza dough, lonza, hot pickled peppers, pear nectar, biscotti, Sicilian olives, Rega canned tomatoes, dried Greek figs, prosciutto salami, Savello cheese, fragrant basil, mascarpone, cannoli shells, lupini beans . . . . . . . the makings of a feast await you at The Italian Store. For me, a visit is like a pilgrimage to a holy sight, the temple of Italian food. Take time for a sandwich and a bowl of hot homemade soup at the lunch counter. And then go home with a carload of goodies to share with friends and family.

Celebrate your inner Italian: