August 12, 2013
Tomato season! Tomato season! Hurrahhhhhhh!
One of my colleagues grew these adorable and flavorful cherry tomatoes in his backyard. One day when he brought a tupperware full of them to work, I couldn’t resist eating a few every time I stopped by the kitchen, and he mentioned that soon he would have more tomatoes than he and his family could possibly eat.
So, I made him a deal: bring me tomatoes, and I will make something with them for the office.
Flaky pie dough is rolled out into a big circle and filled simply with sweet, fresh tomatoes and just enough goat cheese and basil to make it interesting. The edges are folded up rustically, brushed with cream, and the whole thing bubbles in the oven, just until the tomatoes soften and pop and the crust gets all golden at the edges.
Is it weird that I accidentally woke up at 6am and decided to make a tomato tart? Maybe. Was I still pretty jetlagged? Certainly. Did bringing this in to work make me way more popular that day? You betcha.
August 9, 2012
I used to hate tomatoes. No joke. When I was in high school, and well into college, I refused to eat fresh tomatoes unless absolutely necessary. I was fine with tomato products — after all, what kind of person eats a white pizza anyway? — but present me with a sandwich with fresh tomato and I would pick out any offending slices.
Wrong. I was so, so wrong.
I saw the light when I was presented with a slice of salt-and-peppered black brandywine tomato at the Santa Monica farmer’s market. This was nothing like the anemic specimens I was used to seeing at the grocery store. Richly red and green and brown, it promised real flavor, not the bland wateriness of the tomatoes of my past. Chew, chew, swallow, and I was a changed girl.