a slow journey

every summer,
i wait until august,
excited to finally make
this recipe
for slow-roasted tomatoes,
directly from the pages of orangette.

then somewhere around
october,
it occurs to me that that
it's now october and i,
in fact, have let another
summer go without
producing even a single batch
of these deeply flavored
beauties.

it was not going to
happen again this year.
reason one: i was determined.
reason two: i read a homemade life.
the book by molly wizenberg,
author of orangette,
this summer.
and while there
were quite a few recipes i intended
to use to break in the book,
like the buckwheat pancakes,
the bouchons au thons and
the chocolate cake of hers that
i've always wanted to make,
when there were nothing but
tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes,
everywhere i turned, it was
clear that this one was up first.

to ensure that i would carry

my promise through,

i bought 10 roma tomatoes

on friday, carefully placing

them spaced out on my counter

when i got home, so that if

i didn't roast them, the guilt

would hit me

every trip to the kitchen.

yes, that's how i work.

sunday morning,

it was ridiculously hot,

but when hasn't it been

this august?

i set to work, slicing tomatoes

and was pleasantly surprised

to note that in the book,

molly had adapted the recipe

to tossing the tomatoes with
oil, rather than brushing them.

once coated, i placed them on

a baking sheet, trying to keep

the slippery devils in place,

sprinkled the halves

with salt and ground coriander

and placed them in the oven.

easy.

but then i had a choice to make:

trap myself, and in turn, larry,

in the hot apartment

or take a chance and actually leave,

relying on the fact that we've used

this oven for 3 years and never has

it started a fire -

even when making this overnight apple cake,

which also required me to leave

the oven on all night and kept me

from a relaxed night of sleep,
too worried that i would wake

up to the fire alarm, or worse, smoke.

i'm sensing a trend, here.

so, we left, but it was too hot to

visit anywhere except the

air conditioned-movie theatre.

we settled in to see julie and julia,

as i vowed that i would pay attention

to the movie and not spend two hours
thinking about things like

fire trucks, insurance and

my grandmother's dining room table

& china cabinet,

both made of wood.

i expected the movie to be light

and touching and brimming with food,

but what i didn't expect was to be hit

so hard with its story lines,

so similar to mine.

i had read the book and found it

entertaining, but that's the most

that i remember

or took away from the pages.

the movie though, well if you've seen

it, you know that it is sweet and

inspirational with a

few moments that

could possibly provoke tears,

if you are pretty sensitive.

i cried almost the whole time.

and for a while after.

it was so strange.

but, save for the scene that julie

made the most delicious looking

bruschetta, the movie served

its purposes, keeping us cool for

two hours and mostly distracting

me from the tomatoes at home.

we got home at just about the

four hour mark

(from the prescribed 4-6

hour cooking time)
and everything was...
as it should be.

when we opened the door,

the entire space smelled
like the best tomatoes ever.
and when i opened the oven,

the halves were absolutely

wrinkled, smaller and darker,

but not quite the 1/3 of their

size they ought to be,

so i closed the door and let

them cook almost two hours

more, heeding the note

that they should still be juicy.

when i pulled them out,

i remembered the other blogs

from around the time

it was published,

saying that it was nearly impossible

to not eat them all right away

and how few tomatoes

actually made it to the table.

and i understood.

larry and i split one and i warned

him that the rest were for dinner.

but it was early in the day -

dinner was far away and that

was a hard deal for both
of us to keep.

it's just that
they're puckered and their

texture is unclear, until you pop

one in your mouth and you

realize that they are in fact,

incredibly juicy and nothing like

those leathery

sun-dried tomatoes

that i always knew i should

love, but have never been able

to fully embrace.

and their flavor is that of

the most intense tomato,

summery and sweet.

next to sherry vinegar roasted onions

(hey, the oven had been on all day anyway -

what's two more hours at this point?)

and skillet-browned padron chilies,

a round of bucheron

and slices of toasted bread,

they were our tapas-style dinner,

and certainly, the star.

i was glad that i had pulled out

four for a sandwich later in the

week (which i topped with

hummus and basil).

i cannot imagine waiting

another summer to make more,

but goodness,

the day of slow-roasting

was oddly stressful.

at least,

it was worth it.

tears and all.

slow-roasted tomatoes
adapted from a homemade life

molly uses these to make pestos and sauces, which i would probably do next next time, now that i've enjoyed them on their own. here, though, we ate them straight, on a table with other veggies and in a sandwiches. they keep for up to a week. the original recipe calls for 20 tomatoes, which would have been nice to have, but i only used 10.

10 roma tomatoes, still firm

1/2 tablespoon olive oil

ground coriander

kosher salt

heat oven to 200 degree. using sharp paring knife, core tomatoes; halve each tomato. place in bowl and toss with olive oil. place, cut side up on baking sheet.

sprinkle tomatoes with pinches of ground coriander and salt.

roast 4 to 6 hours, or until tomatoes are 1/3 their original size, but are still juicy. let cool.

enjoy tomatoes warm or at room temperature.

rushing the seasons

i am very programmed, when

it comes to tomato buying,

to wait.

until the peak of august,

the beginning of september,

when tomatoes are at their

ripest,

juiciest,

most flavorful,

most beautiful.

sure, i pick up pints of

grape tomatoes

year round, but for gorgeous

heirlooms? i stick to summer's end.

usually.

recently, while running

quickly to pick up a few things for

dinner, i stopped short at the crate,

reading:

heirloom tomatoes - first crop.

and they were not at all expensive.

it seemed a little unreal.

i walked by three times, before

deciding to break my rule.

once i started

picking them up

examining the globes

choosing the prettiest,

i realized something:

i was alone.

no one was pushing me

out of the way, or

even gently nudging me

to the side.

no one was fighting me

for the perfectly round

purple fruit i had just found

in the back.

in fact, no one even seemed

to be glancing in their

direction.

to me, this said one of two

things:

either i was a fool for buying

these in june

or

no one else cared/understood/

paid any attention

to what they were seeing.

deep down, i was going with (A),

but i really wanted to

believe in (B).

so, i picked my favorite five,

took them home for a

photo session and then

stared at them for a week,

deciding how they would

be best utilized.

by the time i decided

on a panzanella salad,

it was a sunday and i wanted

it with dinner that night.

isn't that the problem with bread

salads? they were created as a

way to use up extra bread, yet

often they require actually

buying the bread in the first place.

so, i went out and bought a loaf.

when i came home, i cubed half

of it and spread the bread out on

a sheet pan, letting them dry out

or become stale on their own

in a low temp oven.

after looking at several recipes,

i decided to wing it

(i know.

this can either turn

your dish into

the most delicious, ever,

or be a

disaster.)

i set to work cubing the

tomatoes, almost sad

to cut through them.

ultimately, i made the decision

to seed the pieces.

this is something i never

would have done before

culinary school.

to me, it was always a waste

of time,

a bigger mess,

an obvious disposal of good tomato.

but, in school we experimented,

making

salads

sauces

pizzas

with the seeds and without.

it's true that the ones with seeds

had less flavor

were watery

didn't pop.

so now, a lot of the time, i take

out the seeds.

but what i did next, surprised even

me. i made the decision to

seed all the tomatoes into one

bowl, rather than into the garbage.

once seeded, i poured them into

a fine-mesh strainer over the

toasted bread and pressed all

the juices out. i had planned to use

water to moisten the cubes,

but at the last minute i thought,

this is how to maximize the flavor.

this was pretty much enough

to wet the bread,

but i tossed

a few sprinkles

of water in, just in case.

the rest was easy.

i stirred together a vinaigrette

of olive oil

red wine vinegar

lemon juice

oregano

red pepper flakes

salt

garlic

and

slivered onion.

after i tossed together the

bread

tomatoes

vinaigrette

and freshly torn basil,

i let the salad sit for about

3o minutes to meld.

the salad tasted like summer

and a little bit like cheating.

besides buying

bread the day i was planning to

make the panzanella,

i bought heirloom tomatoes in

june. june! but that night,

when we sat down,

you could have told me it

was august. and i may

have believed you.

heirloom tomato panzanella salad

i used a loaf of paisano, a rustic bread. it was just slightly crusty on the outside, but when i squeezed, it had a little give. you can substitute for whatever bread you enjoy or would like to use up. also, i made the decision to keep the crusts on - faster, more rustic, prettier - but, feel free to trim them if you think they will bother you. if the bread is fresh, simply cube it and spread out on a baking sheet. toast 3-7 minutes at 225˚f, or until the pieces feel "stale." oh, and with the basil leaves, don't bother to count out 30 (unless you want to). instead, just tear them up and toss them in until it seems like the right amount.

1/2 loaf paisano (about 1 pound), cubed into 1" pieces

5 heirloom tomatoes of varying shapes, sizes and colors

1/4 cup red wine vinegar

1/2 lemon, juiced

1/2 small sweet onion, very thinly sliced and chopped

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

kosher salt

cracked black pepper

3 tablespoons olive oil

30 fresh basil leaves, torn

place bread in medium bowl.

on cutting board, core tomatoes. cube tomatoes; then over bowl, remove seeds. once all tomatoes are seeded, place fine mesh strainer over bowl of bread cubes. pour in seeds, pressing to extract all juices; discard seeds. toss bread cubes with tomato juices to moisten. if they don't feel quite moist enough, run your hands under running water and flick bread a few times with water, tossing after a few flicks. you want the bread to be moist enough to absorb the dressing, but not soggy.

in bowl, whisk together red wine vingear, lemon juice, oregano, red pepper flakes, onion, garlic, salt and pepper. slowly drizzle in oil, whisking constantly. taste the vinaigrette - if there's anything you're not crazy about, change it or fix it now.

place the tomatoes in bowl with bread; drizzle with vinaigrette. toss mixture together until completely coated. add basil; toss to combine. season with salt and pepper, if desired. cover; let sit at room temperature 20-30 minutes.