Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Summertime Is The Right Time For Tomatoes

As everyone knows, Summer is the season for fresh fruit and for me, ripe juicy tomatoes are one of the best.  As someone whose nickname as a child was Tomatohead, I try to keep it real with tomatoes.  By this I mean treating a tomato as it should be treated, eating them when in season and eating them in abundance (this does not include canned tomatoes that can and should feed any tomato addiction year-round).  I am serious about the quality of the tomatoes I eat.  I never order sandwiches with tomato in the winter because I know they won't be any good.  Until recently I did this out of snobbery, rejecting the green or mealy winter tomato because I could not tolerate the texture and flavor (nor should I).  Along with the knowledge I've gained working in restaurants, a book that my dear Mama turned me on to has gotten me thinking about this seemingly docile fruit.  Tomatoland by Barry Estabrook has captivated me, and I'm only a few pages past the introduction.  Apparently everything we know about the tomato is in trouble.  It gets me all fired up even thinking about the loads of information I've digested after reading only the first few pages.  Basically, you need to read it.  I may never buy a tomato out of season at the grocery store ever again.  The way tomatoes are produced, not for taste, but for looks in some areas of the country is just plain wrong.  Did you know that some producers gas their green tomatoes with ethylene, to make them turn color before ripened?  Granted ethylene is produced by the fruit naturally as the final step of the maturation process, but if the tomato isn't ripe, it's not ripe.  Don't gas my tomatoes!  Here's a tidbit from the book that is particularly shocking: "According to analyses conducted by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, 100 grams of fresh tomato today has 30 percent less vitamin C, 30 percent less thiamin, 19 percent less niacin, and 62 percent less calcium than it did in the 1960s.  But the modern tomato does shame its counterpart in one area: It contains fourteen times as much sodium."  Can you believe that?!?  I guess my snobbery about eating fresh tomatoes in season wasn't unfounded, even if I was oblivious to the really important reasons as to why we should respect the 'mater a lotta bit more.


Tomatoland aside, I have been loving my tomatoes this summer, especially any heirloom tomatoes I can get my hands on.  The man friend and I attempted to grow our own, but some nasty squirrels ate our crop!  In spite of our setbacks, we have been enjoying beautiful Connecticut tomatoes all summer in every way possible.  The perennial favorite, the Caprese salad, raw vegetable and tomato salad, BLTs- I've embraced them all.  But one creation perked up my ears... the tomato pie.  Not pizza, a pie.  Believe it or not, I've never had this dish. Being Southern, this seems wrong.  So I made it right.  I researched traditional tomato pie recipes and found out that many incorporate mayo.  Hmm.  And mmm.  Most mayo haters cringe at this, but the way my Nana got me to eat tomatoes as a kid was to take big slices of fresh tomato and slather a thin layer of Bama brand mayo over the top with salt and pepper.  I can't express how good that is.  Garlic aioli is even better.  So when I saw that many pies either include mayo in the filling of the pie or slather a layer on top, it made sense.  After looking at a bunch of recipes I created my own bastardization of this Southern Living recipe that I found on food.com: Southern Tomato Vegetable Pie.  The changes I made are simple, just combining this recipe with some others I saw.  It was so good, I can't even describe the happiness.  Also, I used heirloom tomatoes and they were perfect.
3 Large Heirloom Tomatoes
1 pkg Thick Cut Bacon (applewood smoked)
1 10oz. Package of Frozen Chopped Spinach or fresh equivalent
1/2 Cup each of Cheddar and Mozzarella, shredded
12 oz. Part Skim Ricotta
1/2 Cup Fresh Basil, chopped
4 Green Onions, Chopped
1 Garlic clove, minced or chopped, I use my Microplane
1/2 tsp. Crushed Red Pepper
1 Frozen Pie Crust or fresh if you want!
Mayo

Heat oven to 375.  I baked my bacon, you can fry it, but it tastes the same and a lot less mess.  I also bought thick cut, applewood smoked bacon for this.  Bake for 30-40 minutes until the bacon is to your desired crispiness- I like mine crispy.  When it's done, pat off the fat and chop it up.  Put aside.

Slice about 3 large heirloom tomatoes to be 1/2 inch thick.  Place in a colander and layer with paper towels so that you soak up the excess moisture.  Let stand 20 minutes, changing paper towels if you need to.

Drain Spinach well.  Combine with bacon, all cheeses, green onions, garlic, and red pepper.  NOTE: if you have time, drain the ricotta a bit.  The crust will not stand up to the moisture.  When serving right out of the oven, it works, but for leftovers, it crumbles.  It still tastes mighty good, though.

Spread most of the mixture into the pie crust- I had some leftover, about a cup or so.  Leave enough room for your tomatoes on top!  Place the drained tomatoes over the spinach filling, stacking if necessary.

Now here's the mayo haters dilemma: to mayo or not to mayo.  The man friend hates mayo and I did it anyways telling him, "It traditional, so this is how we're gonna make it."  And he loved it.  If you have a mayo hater, make sure to make the mayo layer thin.  If you love it, go wild, but not too wild, then it's just messy.

Top with a sprinkle of parmesan cheese and pop it in the oven for 35-40 minutes.  I didn't have any aluminum foil, so i just baked it right out in the open of the oven until the top was golden brown.  Compare with the Southern Living recipe and see what you'd rather do.

The above picture was my result.  Garnish with a little more parm and basil.  Enjoy!


Monday, August 15, 2011

Cleaning Out the Fridge: Out With the Old, In With the New

As my One-Year-in-New-Haven anniversary approaches I find myself comparing my experiences over the past year to the goals I had in mind for myself professionally (hence the "cleaning out the fridge" metaphor).  When I moved here I was bright-eyed and hopeful, determined to get a job in a kitchen and learn all there is to know about cooking.  Then within a year I would be going to Culinary school somewhere for 18 months, then off into the wide world of food writing.  It makes me to smile to think how sure I was of my path and my timeline.  Not that I'm laughing at myself, but happy that my headstrong nature has brought me to the understanding I have today.  No one could change my mind about wanting to be a chef/food writer, taking the tough and roundabout way to my dream job.  I'm glad they didn't.  If I hadn't had all the experiences of this past year, I wouldn't have the slightest clue what it is I wanted or where I was going in life.  As if many 23 year olds do!  In short, I think looking back is a very important part of moving forward.  Let's just say I'm ready for a new beginning.

At the start of my time in New Haven, after I settled in sufficiently, I started my job search.  I can sum that process up in a word: "cute."  "Here comes this girly-looking blond with the strong belief that she should get hired working in a professional kitchen, without any real experience and still get paid."  That probably what most the people thought when I applied to work in their restaurant.  I must have given a few people the laughs they needed.  I was totally clueless as to how hard it is to get any chef to want you in their kitchen, especially reputable chefs running New Haven culinary institutions.  Eventually after several chefs promised me a chance then never called again, I realized I would have to aim a little lower.  So I took a job as a hostess in a nice restaurant, with the hope that they would eventually help with my kitchen aspirations.  After about 5 months of long days, getting roped into jobs I didn't apply for (food runner) and impatience, I finally bugged the Chef enough to let me shadow or "stagiare" in the kitchen.  I learned a lot of simple things about the kitchen- the work ethic, what it means to be at the bottom of the ladder, etc.  I also fell love with the intensity of a night in the kitchen; prep, the mad rush and the sigh of relief/accomplishment after it was all over.  It was FUN.  After a few weeks "stag-ing" (stah-zhing) I knew it was time to move forward and do this kitchen thing full time.

Fortunately enough, an ex co-worker had moved on as well and offered me an opportunity in an opening restaurant as a REAL LIVE COOK!  It was like everything I had worked though- the crappy hostess job, running food- had paid off and the real deal was finally at my fingertips.  This brings us to the job around which my last few posts are centered.  What a ride.  First, getting paid for practically playing with food for a living to grueling hours and countless frustrations.  Then, the ultimate setback.  Last week I lost my job.  There are the obvious reasons for being upset, but the thing that really disappointed me was I had toughed it out through all the crap only to get let go.  I'm sure it was obvious from my last post that I wasn't very happy there, but I kept on because I knew I was a part of a team that needed me.  We were such a small kitchen that no one could afford to back down because it would affect us all.  It's not like New York where you lose an employee and you have someone in their place in an hour.  Finding a good fit was tough and I couldn't let the rest of the kitchen down just because I had had enough.  Even when we finally found some guys to help take the load off, I didn't quit.  It seems I didn't have to.  From a business perspective, cheaper labor is better and I was the more expensive option.  It is very disappointing when you realize the people you respect don't have respect for you.  At first I was embarrassed and really let down, thinking that maybe I wasn't on the right track after all.  Maybe this dream I had been working toward for almost a year wasn't meant to be.  Then I realized that it wasn't the dream that was wrong, it was the direction I was taking to get there.
I understand now after looking back over my hard-headed path toward pursuing my love of food and writing that I love to cook, but doing so in a professional kitchen is not the way to express it.  For me, at least.  If the past gives us insight to our future, it's telling me to be a little easier on myself, do what I love, which is cook and write, and to do so at home for the people I love :)