AC Denial: Fried Green Tomatoes

My first year out of college, I shared a one bedroom on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. She had the only bedroom (and paid $850), while I had a portion of the living room ($700) that was split from the rest by a half wall. That extra $150 let me buy at least 2 pairs of shoes, and therefore made all the difference.

Toward the end of spring, we had an air conditioner conversation. I didn't have the extra cash, while she purchased the mac daddy of all air conditioners for $200, and put it in her bedroom (door closed to seal in the coolness). I'm not sure that the issue was money; I just liked the romantic notion of hot-child-in-the-city, nineties style.

Then I moved to San Francisco where no one has AC.

Then on my own again in Brooklyn Heights, first floor apartment (read: it stays naturally cool.) I went AC-less once again. I dated a rich man who simply refused to stay at my apartment unless I dealt, which I didn’t. But the idle rich have days to themselves and so he bought me a stand alone unit. It was impressive, took up way too much space, and kept him happy. I gave it to my cousin as a housewarming hand-me-down when she moved into her own place.

Now I’m deeper into Brooklyn, on the top floor of a four-story building. It has all the heating benefits of an uninsulated attic. I’ve purchased a small unit for the bedroom (only $109) that kind of works. The main room, the room I cook in, write in, and work in all day, goes without air management.

My dog looks at me, in her floor-length fur, with desperation. I have bandana-d an ice cube to her forehead, and she puts up with it because she’s a rescue mutt and she’ll put up with just about anything. Look, she can always go to the bedroom, but the loyal thing would just rather be around a person.

So you may be wondering, why? This woman, willing to spend a few hundred dollars to take a friend out to dinner, why won’t she spring a coupla bucks on a unit? Including electricity costs, assuming a devilishly caliente summer, the most she’ll spend is $700. What’s the problemo?

You see, I’m a fourth generation New Yorker. My great grandparents arrived in the early 1900s, Grandma in the belly. My grandparents lived blocks apart from each other, grew up, met, were married, and raised a family on 4th Street between C & D. I grew up softer, suburban. Then back to the city, and back to Brooklyn, identifying with a life that had little to do with reality, but everything to do with self-perception.

Did my grandparents have air conditioning? Nope. Did their parents? Pshaw. Were they living in the same ghettos that I now inhabit (albeit in a gentrified sort of way)? Yes indeed.

Air conditioning is more than a convenience – it is a state of mind. It’s an epidemic threatening to ruin people’s toughness. When it’s hot, my rellies rolled out to the Berkshires, or they had ices on the corner. Or they sat on their fire escapes. Air conditioning fakes your body into denying reality. My body has been known to perceive better than my mind, so tricking it of no use to me.

The AC types have hot chili in the summer. They throw open their windows in the winter (and sometimes even run the AC year round), because their heater has them thinking it’s hot. I’d rather be slightly uncomfortable some of the time than deluded any of the time.

When life gives me summer, I sweat. Lemons, c’est lemonade. And smart southerners, for years before me, have found a way to make something palatable out of underripe fruit. I’m not here to monkey with reality, I’m just trying to make the most of it.


Fried Green Tomatoes with Salsa Fresca
Serves 4; makes 1 1/2 cups salsa

1 1/2 pounds green (unripe) tomatoes (about 3 medium)
2 cups buttermilk
1 cup coarse cornmeal
1 tablespoon coarse salt, plus additional for seasoning
1 1/2 teaspoons cayenne
Neutral oil for shallow frying (enough to come 1/4-inch up the side of the skillet)

For Salsa:
1 cup grape tomatoes, quartered
2/3 cup fresh corn kernels (1 ear corn)
1 tablespoon finely chopped jalapeno (about 1/2 jalapeno)
Kosher salt
1 tablespoon lime juice (about 1/2 lime)
2 tablespoons finely chopped red onion (about 1/4 small red onion)


1. Bring a pot of water to a boil, and prepare a bowl of ice water. Cut an “x” in the bottom of each tomato. Put tomato in hot water and cook for about 15 – 30 seconds, or until skin begins to loosen. Immediately dunk in cold water; skins should easily slip off. Slice tomatoes 1/2-inch thick crosswise.

2. Place tomatoes in a bowl, cover with buttermilk. Let sit at least 15 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, prepare salsa: In a medium bowl, combine tomatoes, corn, jalapeno, lime juice and red onion. Season well with salt and don’t eat too much – it’s for serving with the tomatoes.

4. In a shallow bowl or pie plate, combine cornmeal, salt and cayenne and whisk to combine. Heat oil in a skillet over medium heat.

5. Remove tomatoes, one at a time, from the buttermilk. Let milk drip off, and coat with cornmeal. Gently place in the skillet and fry until golden brown, about 2 to 3 minutes per side. Remove to a paper-towel lined plate. Serve warm.