We have vowed to eat the dwindling summer crops for at least the next week, maybe the whole next month.
There's a glut of tomatoes at the market, and cucumbers are still doing well. The onions are from my dad's garden (delightfully mild, but with a still-discernable onion kick).
Voilà, panzanella. It's kind of like a big, unstirred gazpacho that you eat with a fork.
I died. I gasped.
It was good.