Gabriel's Summer Sampler...

August 2007

Summer, thus far, has been close to spectacular here in southern New Jersey.

As we head into the oppressive heat of August, I offer up a veritable grab-bag of events, info, commentary - with perhaps even a little criticism thrown in for good measure.

Call this column, if you will, Gabriel’s Summer Sampler.

First, a couple of the coolest things I’ve noticed recently.

In an attempt to halt the needless, annual slaughter of fertility-minded mama diamondback terrapins, Cape May County has installed what appear to be “turtle fencing” along the sides of most roads connecting islands to mainland areas.

For this, they should be heartily commended. The barriers themselves are less than a foot in height, but halt female turtles instinctual desire to travel inland and lay eggs.

These magnificent creatures, who often return to the same spots for decades, can outlive humans, provided they don’t end up underneath the tires of motor vehicles.

In our neighborhood, the extreme southend of Ocean City, I’ve personally helped at least ten terrapins get up over curbs and into the safety of grassy areas.

The important thing about this practice is never turning the animal around, but instead, assist them in whatever natural direction they are going in the first place.

It’s not something I’d recommend for everyone, and can be dangerous for several reasons. The obvious one is dodging other drivers who aren’t so caring about the lives of our ancient reptilian friends. But even the animals themselves can be a true hazard, clawing with the same jagged, sharp rear legs utilized to effectively burrow holes for eggs. And god forbid you get a hand near any turtle’s - especially larger, aggressive ones - mouth, or it may return to you missing a digit or two.

Finally, if you are brave enough to handle one, wash your hands thoroughly and immediately, as they have been known to spread salmonella, a condition we consider almost worse than death.

In spite of these risks, there is a wonderful feeling when you watch a gorgeous green and gold anachronism of an animal scurry off and disappear into the marshes. Mother terrapins practically exhaust themselves, sometimes taking half a day in the blazing hot sun to complete their eons old reproductive strategy. Help them if you can, and please, watch for them as you navigate the narrow roads near our local waterways.

Ocean City farmer's market... well worth your time

At the other end of Ocean City, the town’s Tabernacle, between 5th and 6th Streets, hosts an event every Wednesday in summer that deserves mention.

On those dates, a multi-stand farmer’s market appears out of the early-morning seashore mists. Close to twenty different kiosks, most of them manned by the same people who actually grew the produce, offer an abundance of the season’s finest regional foods.

Check out what I picked up this morning, for less than twenty bucks: two pints of local blueberries, an aromatic cantaloupe, six perfectly imperfect organic tomatoes, two massive cucumbers, a baker’s dozen small, exceedingly ripe peaches, and a pint and half of 2007’s first blackberries, indigo dark and some as large as a half dollar.

On other occasions, I’ve found peppery, still damp arugula, hybrid golden zucchini, tiny, just-picked new potatoes, and maroon carrots containing all the varied hues of a summer sunset. Plus spectacular, spear-like gladiolus plants, which flower soon after purchase.

Purveyors range from as far afield as Vineland, Hammonton and Salem County (home of the world’s very finest peaches, no matter what Georgians might think), and this is a fabulous opportunity to shop direct, and purchase items that were often in the field only hours prior.

Something corny in Ocean City

Speaking of produce, situated midisland here is an oddity I doubt you’ll see anywhere else at the shore. Near the corner of 22rd and West Avenues, a homeowner is growing a healthy 20 by 80 foot plot of corn. You heard right, corn, big ole eight-foot tall - and still growing - stalks, thriving just steps from Ocean City’s busiest highway. It’s a brilliant idea, actually, as the giant plants not only provide food, but shade and sound buffering for the nearby house.

In a world where “going green” has become something of a marketing buzzword, these people are well ahead of the curve. Bravo.

George "Willie" Jerkins opens BBQ Willie's in Sea Isle...

A bit further to the south, the first cousin of superstar record producer, and Pleasantville native Rodney Jerkins, George “Willie” Jerkins is making a mark of his own in the world of bar-b-que.

Jerkins joint - aptly named ‘BBQ Willie’s’- opened recently at 4210 Park Avenue in Sea Isle City.

Although the spot is a bit unlikely, we were quite enthralled with a recent take-out meal, including fat, juicy ribs and smoky, flavorful chicken.

Side orders of delicious, but overly salted collard greens, and waferthin cut sweet potato fries accompanied these proteins, making us anxious to return and try other staple bbq accessories like mac and cheese and potato salad. Jerkins, who, according to a staffer, spent time learning ‘cue in Tennessee, also plans to soon add southern specialty fried catfish to his menu. The restaurant will remain open through the rest of 2007, though they anticipate cutting back to a Thursday through Sunday schedule at the close of summer. Let’s hope they have enough success in their initial year to continue into ’08.

Laban late for dinner...

I had to chuckle recently while perusing Philadelphia Inquirer food critic Craig Laban’s latest manifesto/guide to summer dining at the Jersey shore.

Most specifically, his comments about Downbeach’s superlative Dune, located near the intersection of Madison and Ventnor Avenues in Margate.

Not to suggest that the highly overrated Laban - who, as an aside, is actually being sued over one of his recent, caustic columns - found anything wrong with Dune. In fact, just the opposite is true; his praise was effusive, detailed and accurate.

It’s just, well Craig, as is often the case with the Philadelphia media as they relate to us silly bumpkins down here at the Jersey Shore, you’re about two years overdue.

I, for one, reviewed Dune for another local publication, shortly after opening, in October of ’04. At that time, I properly prognosticated monumental things to result from the dynamic team of chef Jason Hanin and owner/front manager Nick Weinstein.

The fact of the matter is, Dune, in my not-so-humble opinion, has become the single most consistent dining experience in the Cape/Atlantic region, no small feat for such a humble, unimposing operation.

And while I appreciate the mighty Laban corroborating my prescient thoughts, his article also filled me with a sense of dread and trepidation. I can practically see it now; cadres of fussy Philadelphians queued up outside the place, making it difficult for regulars like myself to get a table. (Much gnashing and grinding of molars.)

Of course, this is all grand news for Messieurs Hanin and Weinstein.

Not so good, however, for you and me.

And, as usual, another member of the esteemed Fourth Estate of The City of Brotherly Love demonstrates a keen, razor-sharp grasp of the completely and utterly obvious.

Frank Gabriel may be reached at Thaibasil@AOL.com