heirloom tomato tart

I know that it’s no longer tomato season for some of you, but it’s still happening in my neck of the woods. I just couldn’t pass them up at the market this weekend. It’s hard to keep walking when these heirloom varieties are so gorgeous.

So, I’m sneaking in one last tomato dish for the year. It must be done. Hopefully you can sneak one in, too. If not, there’s always next year.

Since these particular tomatoes were so handsome, I wanted to make something to show off just how good looking they were. A tart seemed like the perfect solution.

Tomatoes and puff pastry, together at last. I love the simplicity of this tart, and because it is so simple, it really showcases the goods. The combination of the buttery puff pastry and the juicy, slightly acidic tomatoes is perfect – definitely more decadent than your average tomato and pizza dough pairing. It’s really lovely served with a mixed green or arugula salad and a glass of white wine. Oh, tomatoes, until we meet again…


heirloom tomato tart

adapted from Canal House Cooking, Volume 4 by Melissa Hamilton and Christopher Hirsheimer

serves 4-6

1 sheet puff pastry, defrosted

2-3 tomatoes, cored and sliced

2-3 branches fresh thyme

really good extra-virgin olive oil

pepper

flaky sea salt, preferably Maldon

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Lay the sheet of puff pastry on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Using the tip of a sharp knife, lightly score a 1/2-inch border around the pastry. Prick the dough inside of the border all over with the tines of a fork to prevent it from puffing too much during baking.

Arrange the tomato slices on the pastry in a single layer, being careful not to crowd or overlap the tomatoes, which will make the puff pastry soggy. Strip the branches of thyme, scattering the leaves over the tomatoes. Drizzle the tart with olive oil and season with pepper.

Bake the tart until the pastry is crisp and deeply browned on the bottom and around the edges, 30-40 minutes. Season with salt. Eat warm or at room temperature, preferably the day you make it.

early girl tomato soup

September has left the building. And I’m feeling a bit wistful. September is hands down my favorite of all of the months. For one thing, September in San Francisco is absolutely gorgeous. It’s a sort of last call for summer and a sneaky peak at fall. It also happens to be my birth month, which may be the reason why I just want September to linger.

Because we here in the Bay are experiencing a later than usual summer, there is still a ton of amazing summer produce in the markets, like peaches and plums and early girl tomatoes. Last weekend at the farmer’s market, one vendor had so many early girls that they were selling twenty pound flats for twenty bucks. I’m not one to pass up a deal, but I had to stop myself for a second to contemplate this purchase. What the hell was I going to do with twenty pounds of tomatoes? I walked away so I could obsess and do some number crunching while I did a lap around the market. It was insanely hot. I was sweating. I bought the tomatoes.  I really cannot pass up a good deal.

When you come home with twenty pounds of early girls, what happens is this: You eat tomato salads with basil, olive oil, and burrata. Alotta burrata. And you make sauce, half of which gets eaten almost immediately, while the other half goes into the freezer so that you can enjoy it in a few weeks when the early girls are a thing of the past. And then you try your hand at canning, which doesn’t go quite as smooth as you had hoped because your jars are a little too big for the job since you didn’t read the recipe before hastily buying them. Lastly, you make a pot of good old tomato soup, nevermind the fact that it is 96 degrees outside. And even though its the end of September and impossibly hot, your bowl of tomato soup could not be more perfect. It’s silky and has an incredibly pure tomato flavor. And that drizzle of olive oil makes it extra luscious. And just in case you were wondering, it does in fact serve very nicely chilled if you feel so inclined.

early girl tomato soup

adapted from The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters

makes about 1-1/2 quarts ; serves 4

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons butter

1 medium onion, sliced

1 small leek, white and green parts, sliced

2 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced

2 pounds ripe early girl tomatoes, washed, cored and sliced (or whatever tomatoes you have on hand)

1 scant tablespoon white rice (optional)

salt

1/2 bay leaf

1 small sprig of savory, thyme, or basil

1 cup water

Warm a heavy-bottomed pan. Add the olive oil, 1 tablespoon butter, onion, leek and a pinch of salt. Cover and cook until soft but not brown. If necessary, add water to keep from browning.

Add the garlic. Cook for about 2 minutes, then add the tomatoes, rice, bay leaf, choice of herb and a large pinch of salt. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes fall apart. Add water and remaining tablespoon of butter.

Continue cooking for another 10 minutes, until the rice is tender. Remove the herb sprig and bay leaf. Carefully ladle the soup into a blender or food processor (or use an immersions blender). Blend until smooth, about 1 minute. Pass the pureed soup through a strainer to remove skin and seeds. You can also use a food mill, which purees and separates the skins and seeds simultaneously. Taste for salt. Add more water if the soup is too thick.

Variations:

Omit the rice for a thinner soup.

Garnish the soup with crème fraîche and mint, or with buttered croutons, or with torn basil or finely cut chives and olive oil.

tomato basil salad with olive oil and burrata. word.