When life gives you a case of tomatoes....

With my computer up and running again, I can once again join my friends in the food blogging community. So, what have I been up to in my computer-free spare time? I went Amish.

Last week at the farmers market, I was surprised to see Joe at Dirty Girl selling his luscious dry-farmed early girl tomatoes in November. I plucked a blood red wedge off the sample plate. With juices running down my wrist, I popped it in my greedy mouth and audibly gasped as its mid-summer sweetness exploded across my tongue. If only I could bottle that taste....

In that split second, my stomach staged a bloodless coup, momentarily overthrowing the more rational and obviously weaker part of my brain known as self-restraint. "You can bottle that summer goodness," it whispered hungrily to the easily duped, and no doubt dormant, part of my cerebral cortex, the left frontal lobe, the decision-maker that mistakenly believes it holds the purse strings.

Before I knew it, I arrived home with a 20-pound case of tomatoes in my trunk.

After many hours of cutting, peeling, chopping, puréeing, stewing, cleaning, bottling and freezing, I now possess two gallons of sublime tomato sauce, enough to introduce a little bit of sunlight into the cold dark months that lay ahead.

As the days grow shorter, I seem to be unconsciously preparing for the hibernation of the winter rainy season. You'd think I lived on a farm in snowy Minnesota or rural Missouri (perhaps a part of me does).

With two dozen jars of "Dirty Girl Late Early Girl Tomato Sauce" secure in my freezer, I figured why not attempt to bottle every bit of sunshine I can? I scanned the contents of my fridge in search of the next victim to embalm. By now, I was deeply in touch with the Luddite, Pennsylvania Dutch roots on my father's side of the gene pool.

First, I whiled away an hour or two pickling a few pounds of Joe's crispy yellow wax beans. In a week, they will make the ideal tart counterpunch to a rich creamy duck liver terrine.

Today I'm putting up a batch of red pepper confiture that my friend Alicia taught me how to make in Catalonia this past summer. Cook together cut up red peppers (including a hot chile or two) and sugar in the proportion of two parts peppers to one part sugar, a lemon (inner flesh only, all peel and seeds removed) and a vanilla bean until soft. Then remove the vanilla bean and purée the whole mess, adding salt to taste. It is unbeatable with sheep's milk cheese on crackers with the morning cuppa or as an aperitif with a glass of Cava later in the evening.

Food|and Drink|Recipes|Vegetables|Market

Comments

[shuna fish]

How much are you charging for a jar of that red pepper confiture?

[Kalyn]

I am impressed. I'm from Utah, where it's part of the local (Mormon) culture to "bottle" fruit, tomatoes, salsa, and things like green beans or even corn. I'm not a Mormon and I don't do home canning. Too much work. But I can make great roasted tomatoes which freeze well.

[David]

I roasted tomatoes this past week and packed them in my freezer in ziploc bags. Unfortunately those bags are slippery and one slid out onto my foot; if it wasn't for some fancy footwork, I'd be on crutches. Your method sounds better, and those jars look nice and stable.

[radish]

Mmm. I love tomatoes and your tomato confiture sounds delicious! I have visions of later in life, growing loads of tomatoes in my backyard. When I have a backyard that is. I'm sure you'll find good use for the sauce!!

[Greg]

You make eight hours of work slaving over a hot stove seem very romantic.I will be jealous in January when you consume your tomato treasure.

[Lindy]

Could you say how you did the pickled beans?

[Brett]

Shuna, I wish I'd made more, but at least I shared the recipe.

Kalyn, I'm not Mormon either, but when I have time, I find it therapeutic to make pickles, jams, etc. I also love the idea of making my own cheese, brining olives, baking sourdough, curing meats and all that kind of old-fashioned stuff, but I rarely have the time. That pace of life is very appealing to me. I'm very quixotic that way.

David, I almost used bags too, but I had all these extra jars laying around since I never got around to making any jams this summer. Ouch. That could've hurt.

Radish, I have those same bucolic fantasies of having a backyard full of tomatoes and perfect veggies. But then I look at my drooping house plants and realize, with my brown thumb, my veggies would more than likely end up as snail food.

Greg, hope it wasn't 8 hours, but you never know. As the adage goes, time flies when you're having fun. I can't help it. I love spending time in the kitchen.

Lindy, I followed the recipe in "Chez Panisse Vegetables." If you don't have the book, let me know and I'll email the recipe to you (although I highly recommend you buy it - I turn to it often and am rarely disappointed).

[lisaSD]

Brett--Thanks for taking me along on your Amish adventure...it all sounds wonderful. I can relate to wanting to hoard sunshine...and I'm in freakin' San Diego, so you KNOW I must really need it...