Tomato Sandwiches [The Cookbook]

When I got out to the garden this morning, I was greeted with a very pleasant surprise:

They're ripening!

I swear to you, I handled this is a very classy fashion. I totally didn't jump and squeal or anything.

It's been a very wet and cool summer in these parts, which while great for the snap-peas, which are still producing into August now, not so much for the more warm loving plants: tomatoes, peppers, my sad, sad cucumbers, etc. I've got a lot of lovely green fruit on almost all of my plants, but it's all mostly green. I'm so glad to see some ripening going on. This particular variety is called "Saucy," an heirloom paste tomato, which according to the description is a pretty early variety, so hopeful a few of the other varieties will get themselves to ripening before October.

Now, these tomatoes (along with a few other paste varieties) were planted with the express purpose of going into my spaghetti sauce. Pastes are meatier and using them will definitely cut down on "cooking down" time with my sauce. Unfortunately, when planning my tomato varieties, I didn't think about the fact that this was an "early paste" and what that meant. It's not canning time yet. Or, rather, none of the other tomatoes are even close to ready for it to be canning time, so I can't even whip up a small test batch. Still, I didn't want little critters munching on my tomatoes, so there was only one thing I could do.

My photos of the actual finished product are awful, so you're going to have to deal with a picture of toasting bread. Hopeful in the next month or so, my photo quality will improve thanks to some changes, which I discuss later. Anyone who knows me, though, knows what the toasted bread is about to become.

It's a dish that really brings back memories of summer lunches on the back porch with my mother. They were probably accompanied by a huge mug of coffee. :) I don't remember eating them with Bisnonna though. Likely because of that terrible anti-tomato phase I experienced in youth, but don't talk about the dark days.

Madre remembers though:

Tomato Sandwich

Madre writes: This is one of my favorite lunches with Grandma. Toast two thinly sliced pieces of Italian bread [Amy's note: Or medium-ish wheat, I don't think it makes a difference *hides*] Butter them, slice your tomato, and put it on the bread. Sprinkle a little bit of salt and pepper and a tiny bit of oregano. Enjoy!

So there you have it. A favorite (delicious and easy!) summer lunch for generations.

Year One in the Garden

I've got a retrospective of my first year gardening over on Medium. Those of you who were interested into my foray should head over and check it out:

My father bit into the first strawberry of the season. He hadn’t even taken it inside to wash; just popped it into his mouth like ballpark peanuts. Seconds later, his face had gone just as red as the not-yet-picked berries on the plant. Before I could run for help, he sucked in a breath and gulped down the air, reaching for another one.

“Damn! Those suckers have a kick to ‘em.”

And that was the year we accidentally cross pollinated habanero peppers and strawberries.

I come from a long line of plant people: fresh tomato snobs and home salsa canners, foodies before foodie was really a word, dating all the way back to the village cheese monger. I have learned a lot of lessons from the garden

But this was my first year on my own.

Read More 

Later this week: Pumpkin Dessert, so stay tuned!

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Unfortunately, I am again sans recipe this week. Garden work has been dominating a lot of my time. Community garden plots come with a whole host of problems that container gardens just don't seem to have: -lots- of weeds, more pests than I can comprehend, etc, but we're managing them as best we can.

And Just look at all those lovely tomato seedlings to the left!

I'm learning a lot about the work involved in growing the food that we eat. It's something I've always been vaguely aware of, but I still don't think I ever fully thought it all out. I still have a -far- from comprehensive understanding. Our plot is only 25' x 15' after all. Nevertheless, I can definitely say that after painstakingly picking cabbage worms off our cabbages, I am going to really appreciate eating that cabbage. 

March and the struggle of an empty larder (with a garden to come)

It's April now, officially. But March, as a month, is a rough one for cooking. I was thinking about how uninspired most of my cooking was over the past month coupled with a very bare farmer's market and I began to think a lot about food and surviving a hard winter before it was possible for a person like me to go to the grocery store and pick up bananas.

It's so much harder imagining that sort of life than I like to admit.

I try so hard to eat seasonally. Strawberries are only allowed on my table in early summer. That's why we shop at the farmer's market whenever we can and are working on planting our own garden. For the first time ever, I get to work my own plot of land! No more five pots of sweet peppers hidden on the balcony. It's exciting: starting seedlings, waiting for ground to thaw (another reason I can't imagine having to rely on this garden for my food. This has been a particularly bad winter. We're just seen the ground for the first time since January about a week ago.). Really, the planning has gotten me through this truly uninspired month.

Gardening means a lot to me. 

I can remember my parent's garden and the year they accidentally crossbred strawberries and habanero peppers, creating a very interesting experience. I also remember my nonno's garden in the backyard: mostly made up of fragrant tomatoes for his famous sauce. Incidentally, we a planting a large number of fragrant tomatoes in our own plot this year. I hope to replicate that sauce someday. To make up for all of the terrible years I refused to eat it as a child.

Gardening's in my blood as much as anything.

Mi bisnonna in -her- own garden