The Midwest’s Best Kept Secret: Produce from the Pickup Truck

Summer in the Midwest is a vibe all its own. Yes, the humidity will make your hair fight back. Yes, your flip-flops might melt to the sidewalk. But then… there’s the produce.

This time of year, everything feels like a gift: sweet corn that practically shucks itself, juicy tomatoes that need nothing but salt, and herbs that grow faster than you can figure out what to do with them.

It’s the season where I pull off at gas stations not for gas, but because someone’s tailgate is down and the bed is full of zucchinis, squash, and plastic grocery bags packed with cucumbers. I don’t need to ask if it’s local. I can tell by the dirt still clinging to the roots and the handwritten sign taped to a cooler.

There’s no app for this kind of moment. No algorithm. Just a conversation with the grower and the shared understanding that what’s in those bags was picked this morning.

And that’s the heart of it, isn’t it?

Food, when it’s close to the earth and the people who grow it, carries a kind of memory. My grandmothers cooked this way. My parents still do. I’m trying to keep it alive; whether I’m pulling parsley from a pot on the porch or picking out peaches from someone’s backseat stand.

I don’t have a recipe today. Just a reminder: your dinner doesn’t have to be fancy to be sacred. Start with what’s fresh, and let the food do the talking.