September 2012

Can't you just see her, proudly leading the parade down Main Street, all rosy cheeks, healthy curves and shiny Breck-girl hair? (Sort of like Hilary Rhoda if she ate more.) Actually, "The Tomato Queen" was what they dubbed Tillie Lewis, whose canning factory in Stockton, California, in the 1940s, was the first to market Italian Roma tomatoes to mainstream consumers. But that's neither here nor there. What I'm writing about today is a way to use all those cherry tomatoes that are still flooding in from your garden (or local greenmarket). I posted my recipe for "tomaisins"—my own deeply clever marketing term for dried cherry tomatoes—a couple of years ago, and I'm running a similar one here because I still think it's a great, easy preserving method. I hope I'm preaching to the converted, but if you still haven't tried this, now's your chance. Of course you can add fresh cherry tomatoes to your salads, toss them raw with hot pasta, slice them with cucumbers or just pop them into your mouth for a snack but, if you're like me, you will still have a ton left cluttering up your kitchen counter (never refrigerate tomatoes). This simple recipe for a flavor-intensified condiment is the perfect solution.
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Did you know that nasturtium means "nose-tweaker"? This lovely massing plant produces a rather sharp oil, similar to that of watercress. Tropaleoum, as it's formally known, has showy, brightly-colored flowers and proliferates wildly all summer long in even the most neglected gardens. It's an edible plant, and the flowers are often tossed into salads where they impart a pleasantly peppery bite. The unripe seed pods—which can best be observed by picking up the massing plant and examining its underside—have a rather more intense flavor, almost like horseradish. They can be pickled in a simple brine and used as you would capers, or any spicy pickle. This means they pair well with cheese, or can successfully be tossed into anything eggy or creamy.
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This has been a good year for tomatoes. The Brandywines are bodacious. The cherry tomatoes are sweet as candy. And the Green Zebras are running wild. Every time I turn around Mr. Green Thumb has sneaked a few more into the kitchen. Green gazpacho will be on the menu this weekend. What do you call a Bloody Mary made with green tomatoes? Don't answer that. (Shades of Linda Blair, people. If you're too young to catch that reference, consider yourself lucky.) I'm thinking green tomato sorbet, spicy green tomato jam. These are not unripe tomatoes, by the way. If you don't know Green Zebras, it's time you discovered this wonderful variety. Our local farm doesn't grow them because they can't get people to buy a green tomato. Really? These have a wonderfully clean flavor with a zingy tartness. They're no bigger than a very large plum but they pack a lot of taste. And their chartreuse color with stripes a shade darker is so very chic. Their vivid hue inspired me to make a salad with all the green things I could get my hands on, many of them from my own garden. It's art. It's health food. It's life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness on a plate.
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The recipe for this torte first appeared in Marian Burros' column in the New York Times in September 1983. I've been making it for more than two decades, but I remember it as if anew every August when Italian plums appear at the greenmarket. Times readers clamor for it so often that it's run in the paper more than a dozen times. Amanda Hesser also included it in The Essential New York Times Cookbook. Why is it so popular? Hesser deems it a "nearly perfect recipe" and describes it as "crusty and light, with deep wells of slackened, sugar-glazed fruit." Naturally, I couldn't leave well enough alone, but have tweaked it to include a few flavors that I think further exalt this immensely satisfying and absurdly easy recipe. Any leftovers should be covered with foil, stored on the counter and eaten the next morning for breakfast, with or without a dollop of yogurt. Now that's living.
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Ah, August. A month whose name alludes to its impressive stature. It looms large, shimmering in the heat, revered as the last great beacon of summer. It's over now and September stretches ahead in the golden light, the first leaves smoldering red, the school bell ringing in the distance. Summer is so fleeting but I'll hold tight to my memories of Cape Cod, a place that with its salty air and sun-bleached shingles seems to encapsulate this season better than any other. A few days with dear friends in their beautiful home near the beach in Truro left us relaxed and rejuvenated, determined to go barefoot more often. We strolled, swam, cooked, lingered in the screened-in porch and slept soundly, dreaming of childhood.
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