The Perfect Fresh Tomato Sandwich

I always crave tomatoes when late August and early September rolls around. That's when the tomatoes in my mom's garden are at their peak. Every year, for as long as I can remember, her tomato vines take over our fence in the summer in a riot of exuberant green tendrils. The tomatoes line up on our kitchen counter, one by one, in ever-increasing numbers until it seems impossible that one family of four could ever finish them all.

Unless they love tomatoes as much as my mom does.

That yearly tomato crop has made a life-long tomato snob out of me, I'm afraid. I don't like to eat tomatoes out of season, and I hardly ever reach for them at the store. Before I even knew the meaning of "fresh," "local," or "in season," I knew the taste of a grocery store tomato never compared to what we had at home in August. The pinkish, almost dry store-bought tomatoes fell so far short they were hardly worth touching.

My mom seems to love tomatoes, plain, fresh, and whole, more than any other food. I've seen her eat them raw like an apple, sitting at the counter with a tomato in one hand and a shaker of salt in the other. Sure, you can use fresh tomatoes for your sauces, your pasta dishes, your chicken shawarmas, but in my opinion, the freshest tomatoes are best enjoyed simply, uncooked, and with minimal additions.

Even in salads or on top of burgers I've had a life-long habit of picking the tomato out and enjoying it separately, unmarred by the intrusion of too many other flavors.

My absolute favorite use for fresh tomatoes-- and a dish I only ever seem to crave this time of year-- is a tomato sandwich. This is how my family has always gotten through our bounty of tomatoes.

I've described this sandwich to all my friends and acquaintances, and everyone seems perplexed by it, as if this tradition barely exists outside our family. I know we aren't the only ones to make tomato sandwiches this way, but this wonderful minimalist recipe ought to be better-known.

My mouth has been watering for a fresh tomato sandwich all month. Now, as we know, I'm a big fan of getting my food as discounted as possible. But that isn't the way to go for this sandwich. Now that I don't live at home and have no tomato plants of my own, I headed to the farmer's market for a pound of fresh, ripe heirloom tomatoes. I suggest you do the same.

All this sandwich takes is one juicy tomato, fresh from your garden or the local farmer's market, neatly sliced with a sharp knife...

Then add 2 slices of toasted bread, and a little mayonnaise. (Trust me on the mayonnaise. I'm an avowed mayo-hater, and this is one of my two exceptions.)

You'll probably want three or four tomato slices per sandwich, depending on the size of your bread slices and how thickly you sliced the tomatoes. I recommend not trying to cut this in half or you'll have tomatoes falling out all over the place. Eat immediately, and lap up any stray juices and seeds from the plate when you're done.

For extra deliciousness, eat the rest of the tomato slices too. A sliced tomato doesn't keep long, so you might as well.

Fresh Tomato Sandwiches

Ingredients

2 slices hearty whole-wheat bread

1 tomato, fresh from your garden or the local farmer's market, sliced lengthwise

1 tbsp mayonnaise

Directions

1. Toast the bread in a toaster or toaster oven. Lightly toasted is best. You want it to be just a little bit crisp, but retaining a little flexibility for easier chewing.

2. Slice the tomato lengthwise. Try to slice evenly.

3. When bread is toasted, spread the mayonnaise over once slice of bread. Get a thick, even coat. You might want to use a little more mayonnaise than you think you need. It's there to absorb some of your tomato juices and turn the sandwich into a delicious pink mess of...um...deliciousness.

4. Lay the tomato slices on top of the mayonnaise layer, and top with the remaining slice of bread.

Boozy Sauteed Chicken

Roommates, roommates, roommates. Can't live with them, can't live...well, you could live without them, but you might not be able to pay your share of the rent anymore. Drat.

I love my roommates, as it happens-- all four of them, five if we count the kitten-- but once in a while I could wish for my own kitchen. My plans to make a delicious boozy chicken, perhaps with a side of the daringly high-fat French-Canadian classic, poutine, were halted last night by one of my will-remain-nameless-roommates' sporadic cook-fests that produces wild amounts of food and a porportionate amount of mess. The kitchen was a war zone, strew with abandoned eggplant slices, bell pepper cores, onion skins, and encrusted pans, colanders, knives...oh, and beer cans. There wasn't a scrap of counter space left for me.

Feelings were mended by said roommate offering me a scoop of pasta and a slice of feta and sundried tomato flatbread that was as big as my head. But damn, was I still itching to make that chicken.

And even though the kitchen is still a war zone, with one small length of counter cleared in the interval, I made my chicken tonight anyway. And it was delicious. And I even cleaned up after myself when I was done.

This chicken is incredibly easy to make and infinitely adaptable. Chicken and a few glugs of dry white wine are all you need to produce tender, savory meat that will leave you licking your fingers for every last scrap of sauce.

Boozy Sauteed Chicken

recipe adapted from food loves writing

Serves one, but easy to scale up.

Ingredients:
1/2 chicken breast, flattened a little or cut into tenders
1 clove garlic, minced
a few glugs dry white wine, such as Sauvignon Blanc
salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp olive oil

Directions:
Heat the olive oil in a small nonstick skillet. When hot, add in the chicken and garlic. Cook chicken on medium heat, 2-3 minutes, until browned on both sides.

Add just enough wine to cover the bottom of the pan. Chicken will sizzle beautifully. Add salt and pepper and mix into wine-sauce.

Continue cooking and turning chicken to cook on all sides, about 8-10 minutes. Press down on chicken gently to ensure even cooking. Check thoroughly for pinkness while cooking. Add more wine as necessary, scraping up any burned bits from the bottom of the pan. The chicken will brown and the smell of the wine will waft upwards to tantalize you while you stir.

When chicken is cooked all the way through, remove from heat and serve with a side of vegetables and perhaps a slice or two of baguette. Not to mention the rest of that wine.

Last-Minute Vegan Fruit Tart

Ever wandered, drooling, past a bakery window and wished that you could have a tart of your very own? A tart to cherish, to love, to pile high with freshly sliced fruit? Well, now you can!

As is often the case, I volunteered to provide dessert for a social occasion without actually knowing what I’d make. Or if I had the necessary ingredients. Or even the time. This tart is the result of an hour of frantic online recipe browsing, leafing through cookbooks, and running around Harris Teeter like a madwoman, and another hour of stirring, accidentally powdering all nearby surfaces with confectioners’ sugar, slicing fruit quickly rather than safely, and pouring hot jam. But it’s worth it for all the envious looks you’ll receive from your roommate, passers-by on the street, and even the normally surly DC bus driver who isn’t supposed to let you on with open dishes of food but makes an exception because it looks so scrumptious. Most of this recipe is taken from Colleen Patrick-Goudreau’s The Joy of Vegan Baking.

Last Minute Vegan Fruit Tart

SHORTBREAD CRUST:

• 1/2 cup (112g) non-hydrogenated, nondairy butter, at room temperature
• 1/4 cup (25g) confectioners’ sugar
• 1 cup (125g) all-purpose flour
• 4 tbsp ice water

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Lightly grease the pie pan with canola oil or nondairy butter. I used this 9″ tart pan, but any similarly sized pie dish or square casserole dish will do. Use tartlet pans or even a muffin pan if you want to make cute little tartlets.

In a medium-sized bowl, cream the butter and confectioners’ sugar until light and fluffy. (If you have an electric mixer, use it. If not, a spoon, employed vigorously for several minutes, is also sufficient. My mixture was creamy–rather than fluffy–and still turned out fine.)

Add the flour a third at a time and beat until the dough just comes together. If your dough, like mine, doesn’t just “come together”, stir in ice water one tablespoon at a time until the dough begins to form a loose ball. It’s okay if it’s still a little crumbly.

Press the mixture into the bottom of your prepared pan and bake for about 20 minutes, or until lightly browned. Bake time will vary depending on your oven. Mine took about 35 minutes, so start out with 20 and check every 5-10 minutes after that. Remove from the oven and place somewhere to cool.

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PASTRY CREAM (CUSTARD):

• 1/3 cup (65g) granulated sugar
• 2 tbsp (16g) all-purpose flour
• 4 tbsp (32g) cornstarch
• 1/4 cup (60mL) water
• 1 1/3 cups (315mL) nondairy milk (I used rice milk, but soy milk is obviously fine, too)
• 2 tsp vanilla or lemon extract (I used vanilla)

In a medium-sized bowl, beat together the sugar, flour, cornstarch, and water on high speed until creamy, about 2 minutes. (Again, I just used a fork for about 4 minutes, adding the ingredients one at a time.) Set aside.

In a saucepan, bring the milk to a simmer. Pour about 1/3 cup (80mL) of the hot milk into the sugar mixture and stir to thoroughly combine. This doesn’t have to be precise; just make sure the sugar mixture is a little liquid-y. Pour this sugar-milk mixture back into the saucepan with the rest of the milk. Return to the stove and heat over medium-low heat, whisking constantly. This is important! Don’t stop whisking for anything, not even zombies or kittens! It will begin to thicken immediately. (They’re not kidding. It only takes about a minute or two, if that, for the cream to thicken sufficiently.)

Scrape the bottom and sides of the pan as you whisk. Cook until it begins to bubble, then whisk as vigorously as you can for 30 seconds, and remove from heat. (Mine never bubbled. If yours doesn’t either, just remove from heat when it seems about as thick as your average chocolate pudding.) Stir in the vanilla/lemon extract.

If your pie crust is baked and ready, go ahead and pour the cream into the crust, smoothing it flat with a rubber spatula or large spoon. It doesn’t have to be perfect, since the fruit will be covering it anyway. If your crust isn’t ready yet, you can store the pastry cream (covered) in the fridge for up to 3 days.

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TOPPING:

• 3-4 tbsp (80g) jelly, jam or preserves (I used apricot jam. Peach is also good.)
• 2 1/2 cups fruit, sliced (I used about 1 1/2 cups of strawberries, 1 kiwi, 7 blackberries, and a handful of blueberries)

Arrange your sliced fruit on top of the tart. Even if you’re the worst pastry decorator in the history of the world, there’s no way this will look anything but delicious.

Heat the jelly in a small saucepan, whisking constantly. Once it’s hot, strain into a small bowl, mug, or measuring cup, leaving behind seeds or anything else solid. It should be liquid enough to pour. If it’s too thick, just reheat with a little water added.

Using a pastry brush (or a small spoon, in a pinch), brush the heated jelly over the top of the fruit. Everything should be covered with a thickish layer, but not overwhelmed. It should look moist, shiny, and wonderful. NOTE: it may be difficult to stop yourself from devouring the tart right then and there. (Another argument for tartlets.)

Serves 8, supposedly. It served three of us, with about 1/6 left over.

For an equally delicious, non-vegan version of this recipe, simply use real butter and milk.

Cross-posted at www.serenae.com.

Farmer's Market Cantaloupe Sorbet

At the beginning of last week, I found myself with half of a delicious cantaloupe. Now, that may not seem like much of a problem to you. Eating cantaloupe is a pretty enjoyable activity, after all. But it just so happens that there's one thing even better than than fresh cantaloupe on a sweltering summer day: icy cantaloupe sorbet!

When I scoured the internet for recipes, my limitations became immediately apparent. No ice cream maker, no corn syrup, not even an electric OR hand mixer. I mixed and matched, mostly following this recipe. So here it is,

Nearly-Unaided-by-Newfangled-Machinery Farmer's Market Cantaloupe Sorbet

INGREDIENTS:

• 1/4 cup water
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 cantaloupe, in 1-1.5 inch pieces (watermelon or honeydew can be easily substituted)
• 1-2 tbsp lemon or lime juice
  

Combine sugar and water in medium saucepan. Stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Bring to boil. Transfer to a deepish (at least 2 inches) casserole dish and chill until cold, about 2 hours. (I used a tupperware container with a lid and stuck it in the freezer for a half hour.)

MEANWHILE, puree cantaloupe in blender until smooth. This takes about 10 seconds, then another 10 to make sure it's actually smooth and get over your disbelief that yes, it really was that easy. Stir in the lemon/lime juice. (I squeezed half a lemon into the mixture, but you may want to add more if your cantaloupe is especially sweet. I also read a few recipes that called for a splash of vodka or gin, for texture rather than flavor.)

Pour into the sugar syrup in dish/container and stir until well blended. Freeze until almost firm, stirring every half hour or so, at least 3 hours or overnight (if you freeze it overnight, it will become a SOLID frozen block and will need to set it out on the counter to soften again).

Transfer cantaloupe mixture to large bowl. Using electric mixer a fork, beat until fluffy. If you go with the fork method it's going to be a little lumpy, so don't FREAK OUT. Get it as fluffy as you can, but don't worry if it's not perfect. This sorbet is delicious in any shape. Return to freezer and freeze until firm (do not stir), at least 3 hours or overnight. Cover and keep frozen. Again, if you've used a fork rather than an electric mixer, you'll want to give it a chance to thaw a little before serving, unless you enjoy chipping away at rock-hard sorbet.

Serves 6 / 1 ravenous person with a sweet tooth / 1 normal person for a week / a gaggle of sticky-faced children

Cross-posted at www.serenae.com.