Posts tagged ‘tomatoes’

Let’s clear one thing up before we go any further. Bruschetta is pronounced like this: Broos-ketta. You say it with a hard C. I know it’s very Seinfeldian of me to be peevish over such a thing, but it drives me crazy!–especially when I hear waiters at really nice Italian restaurants saying brooshetta. No and no. If you want to pronounce it like Furio from The Sopranos, that is, like a goon with a heavy Naples accent, then you say broosh-ketta. But it’s still a hard C no matter how you slice it.

Tomatoes are finally, gloriously in season. After last year’s tomato blight, I’ve been awaiting their return like I used to wait for the Sears Wish Book as a child. (Have you noticed our header recently? I’m tomato crazy.) They’re just starting to trickle in to my CSA vegetable share with a couple of juicy beefsteaks this week and a dozen or so red and orange cherry tomatoes.

Over the weekend, I stopped by the ever reliable Manhattan Fruit and Vegetable Exchange at Chelsea Market where I purchased the first of the big Jersey tomatoes bearing their fiery, orange-red skin. I also had a few plum tomatoes hanging around at home, so I decided to combine my entire tomato bounty into one meal.

I chopped them into small pieces, adorned them with just sea salt, olive oil, a clove of garlic, and some torn basil leaves from the plant on my window sill. Finally, I spooned the colorful mixture on to slices of bread that had been toasted in a frying pan with a touch of olive oil.
>> After the jump, a plate of bruschetta that matches the curtains and tips for storing your tomatoes. >>

How many of you have been out at a Mexican restaurant and ordered the guacamole made tableside? That rock bowl in which the guac is pulverized is known as a molcajete y tejalote, Spanish for “mortar and pestle.” This carved-basalt tool is traditionally used in Mexico, passed down through generations in many families (kind of like how I inherited my cast iron skillet!), and develops a gorgeous patina and texture over time.

Even though I’ve got a small ceramic mortar and pestle, I just couldn’t resist getting my hands on one when I was down in Mexico for Food Blogger Camp, and am pretty pleased with my impulsive decision. It’s a load, but Dan says my salsa tastes “just like in a restaurant!” and I’m psyched to have a bigger bowl for crushing roasted spices. If you decide to spring for this heavy piece of equipment, here’s how to break it in.
>> Read on for Cinco de Mayo-ready instructions on seasoning a molcajete PLUS a smoky salsa recipe. >>

It’s a miserable day here in the New York megalopolis, with slushy rain and gloomy opaque skies. I just want to curl up under a blanket in my red waffle-knit onesie pajamas (what? better than a Snuggie, I say), but instead I’ll probably make a big pot of chili on the stove. This recipe was donated to me about a year ago, and I was so impressed by its simplicity and flavor that it instantly became the only chili for me.

I call it “Cheater’s Chili” because it seems almost like a cheat to make — it’s not a traditional chili in that there’s no meat to brown, and half the components come from the freezer or from cans. My other confession is that I really dislike cumin, so maybe that’s why this recipe appeals to me so much. Eat this with a dab of sour cream and some scallions, and then save your calories for a big bowl of pasta and pork sauce the next day.

>> Read on for the incredibly simple veggie chili recipe. >>

Today we welcome back Lisa Cericola, editor of Dinner Party, as our featured guest poster. Lisa’s had good luck with finding tasty tomatoes this season and is celebrating the last rays of summer with a salad that is gorgeous in its brevity.

Although the homegrown tomatoes have been suffering, I’ve been able to supplement with some gorgeous local specimens from the greenmarkets this summer and still get my tomato fix. If you’re lucky enough to get your hands on some heirloom tomatoes, you can still find late-season varieties from now until the end of September. The best way to eat these beauties is simply. I like to toss together a salad of fresh corn kernels, basil, shallots, and several kinds of tomatoes in a tangy red wine vinaigrette. This combination ended up being a study in yellow, with a few Green Zebras for a little color contrast. And if you can’t find tomatoes due to blight or a lack of farmers’ markets in your neck of the woods, try substituting peaches or yellow plums, or only using cherry tomatoes. It’s not rocket science, but it’s a delicious way to hold on to summer before sweater weather hits.

Simple corn and tomato salad
(Serves 2 to 4 people)

For the salad:

• 2 ears of corn, shucked, and kernels removed from the cob
• 2 small heirloom tomatoes, sliced into wedges
• 1 handful cherry or grape tomatoes
• 1 shallot, sliced thinly
• 4 leaves basil, julienned
• sea salt

For the dressing:

• 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
• 1 tbsp. lemon juice
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• salt and pepper to taste

Combine the vinegar and lemon juice in a small bowl. Stir together until combined. Slowly whisk in the olive oil until emulsified. Add salt and pepper to taste.

To assemble the salad, divide the corn equally among your plates. Arrange the tomato slices on top, then add the cherry tomatoes and shallots. Drizzle the dressing on top of each salad, then top with the basil and some flaky sea salt if you have it.

Sigh. The temperatures in my fair city have dropped to the high 60′s.  I’m already reaching into the hall closet, which hasn’t been opened since April, for my favorite red hoodie, as I clip the leash on Rocco and head to the park where a few leaves are already fading to yellow. Autumn in New York, as Ella Fitzgerald sang, is often mingled with pain, because this year, I missed feasting on late summer tomatoes. 

In February as I paid for my CSA share, I had visions of tomatoes covering my kitchen table. August was going to be one giant caprese salad. I was going to roast them, preserve them, and savor their organic goodness all summer. Alas, it was not meant to be because of the late blight. It’s been well documented for us unlucky east coasters.  A contagious fungus, coaxed out and encouraged by the relentless June rain ruined tomato crops throughout the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic states. The organic farmers were hit especially hard. The farmers at Hawthorne Valley Farm (my CSA farm) enlightened me.  Here is an excerpt from their August 27th newsletter:

We didn’t spray copper, a controversial fungicide allowable under some organic standards, that some say would have staved off the late blight on our tomatoes for at least a little while. Under Biodynamic standards, copper is allowable only three times. This season the organic farmers that did choose to use copper sprayed copper many, many more times than three, and still don’t have a strong tomato crop. June and July were so consistently wet that spraying after every rain became quite a job. Copper is powerful and kills both beneficial and pathogenic fungi in the soil and on the plants. Some farmers worried about the longer term affects of spraying copper on the beneficial organisms in the soil. Building the soil, the soil structure and beneficial organisms that live in the soil, is really the main job of any sustainable farmer. Without a healthy soil system, not much can grow without using a lot of inputs from manufactured fertilizers and manufactured soil amendments (none of which are used here – we use only compost made from our own farm materials). The decision can be a hard one: to spray copper to save some of a tomato harvest this year, or to forgo the current tomato harvest in favor of a longer term soil health, not to mention that some people are also very sensitive to copper. The copper spray can drift onto other crops if there is any breeze, and if those crops are near to harvest, the copper may not have enough time to degrade to an allowable standard before harvest time. A person spraying the copper needs to wear special protection to prevent inhaling the copper, or copper coming in contact with any exposed skin or the eyes. With our vegetable crop rotation closely spaced in the field, we decided not to risk contaminating the other crops with copper drift. With all the children on the farm,we decided not to risk any accidental exposure to copper.  

To abate my sorrow, I’m going to splurge and order a decadently priced can of San Marzano tomatoes from the slopes of Mount Vesuvius in Italy. Fortunately, the good people at Gustiamo, (my personal version of Bloomingdales) have them in stock, in the Bronx, waiting to be enjoyed.

Till next year, sweet tomatoes…