Portland, Oregon, circa 1981. My parents and I are dining at a swanky hotel restaurant. I order clam chowder and am served something that can only be described as nectar of the gods.
It never fails, I will either have gathered a huge bounty of vegetables from my garden or will have gotten a little crazy purchasing them at the market. That means a glut of things like eggplant, zucchini and other summer squashes, peppers, and tomatoes. Some of them I will cut into chunks and freeze for later use, but really, there is nothing better than using them fresh.