The end of summer is the perfect time to enjoy tomatoes as they should really taste. I used to hate tomatoes. Growing up, I couldn't stand their mealy texture or gooey interior. I liked tomato sauce and other forms of processed tomato - if it didn't really taste like a tomato, I was happy to eat it. But I would pick tomatoes out of sandwiches and salads, and after I lived on my own, I almost never bought tomatoes to eat myself.
Then I discovered farmer's markets. And now I eagerly await tomato season. I rarely buy tomatoes at a grocery store, except the local varieties that co-ops and health food stores occasionally carry. And I
never buy fresh tomatoes out of season. Regular tomatoes from a supermarket are never really ripe. They're so bland and the texture is so awful because they are always picked unripe. If you've experienced the soft, moist texture and explosive flavor of a truly ripe tomato, you know why tomato producers choose to pick their tomatoes before they have barely blushed with color. Hard tomatoes ship well, store well, and last a long time, while a truly ripe tomato cannot be shipped and must be eaten within a few days. Unripe tomatoes are gassed with ethylene to give them the color of ripeness, but their flavor and texture wouldn't fool anybody who is lucky enough to have experience with ripe, local, heirloom tomatoes just bursting with flavor.
In the off season, I rely on canned and frozen
roasted tomatoes. I set aside recipes with fresh tomatoes until the summer, or I use different ingredients or preserved foods. And some might consider this an unnecessary loss when tomatoes are "available" year-round. In our culture, we've certainly become accustomed to having produce available whenever we want it - tomatoes in January, strawberries on Valentine's Day. For the convenience of being disobedient to earth cycles, we sacrifice flavor. But we also sacrifice something more subtle - the pleasure of sweet anticipation. Especially for frequenters of farmer's markets, U-pick farms, and seasonal restaurants, the experience of that first summer blueberry or the bright flavor of a winter orange are
worth the wait - a concept that's become alien in our economy of instant gratification.
This is not to say that I never eat produce out of season - I use lemons year-round, as well as most tropical fruits. Sometimes I jump the gun on my anticipation, especially when I'm winter-weary, and buy something completely extravagant. But for some things, it's certainly worthwhile to wait for them to appear at the market.
This dish made everybody happy. If you have an
infused olive oil, I encourage you to use it, as the flavor will really shine here. I used the oil from a jar of sun-dried tomatoes, and it was delicious, but basil- or pepper-infused oil would also be wonderful. You can use any sort of truly ripe heirloom tomato - I used Marvel Stripe.
I love the intensely green, peppery flavor of arugula, but you can use spinach or another soft green instead. You can also try this with other pastas, or skip the pasta altogether and just enjoy it as a fresh salad.
ingredients 4 large ripe tomatoes, chopped
1/2 red onion, sliced thinly
2 T. balsamic or white wine vinegar
2 T. infused olive oil
1 bunch of arugula, chopped
1 c. fresh basil, chiffonade
salt and pepper, to taste
1 lb. whole-grain farfalle
1 T. infused olive oil
salt
macadamia sprinkle:
1 c. macadamias, preferably soaked for 1-2 hours, drained and rinsed
2 T. nutritional yeast
salt to taste
instructions 1. Cook the pasta according to package instructions.
2. Toss the pasta with infused olive oil and salt to taste. Set aside in a large bowl.
3. Combine the tomatoes and onion with oil and vinegar.
4. Fold in the arugula and basil and season to taste with salt and pepper. Toss lightly with the pasta.
5. Combine the nuts with nutritional yeast in a food processor; pulse until crumbled until no large pieces remain. Add salt to taste.
6. Serve at room temperature in bowls, garnished with macadamia sprinkle.
The end of summer is the perfect time to enjoy tomatoes as they should really taste. I used to hate tomatoes. Growing up, I couldn't stand their mealy texture or gooey interior. I liked tomato sauce and other forms of processed tomato - if it didn't really taste like a tomato, I was happy to eat it. But I would pick tomatoes out of sandwiches and salads, and after I lived on my own, I almost never bought tomatoes to eat myself.
Then I discovered farmer's markets. And now I eagerly await tomato season. I rarely buy tomatoes at a grocery store, except the local varieties that co-ops and health food stores occasionally carry. And I never buy fresh tomatoes out of season. Regular tomatoes from a supermarket are never really ripe. They're so bland and the texture is so awful because they are always picked unripe. If you've experienced the soft, moist texture and explosive flavor of a truly ripe tomato, you know why tomato producers choose to pick their tomatoes before they have barely blushed with color. Hard tomatoes ship well, store well, and last a long time, while a truly ripe tomato cannot be shipped and must be eaten within a few days. Unripe tomatoes are gassed with ethylene to give them the color of ripeness, but their flavor and texture wouldn't fool anybody who is lucky enough to have experience with ripe, local, heirloom tomatoes just bursting with flavor.
In the off season, I rely on canned and frozen roasted tomatoes. I set aside recipes with fresh tomatoes until the summer, or I use different ingredients or preserved foods. And some might consider this an unnecessary loss when tomatoes are "available" year-round. In our culture, we've certainly become accustomed to having produce available whenever we want it - tomatoes in January, strawberries on Valentine's Day. For the convenience of being disobedient to earth cycles, we sacrifice flavor. But we also sacrifice something more subtle - the pleasure of sweet anticipation. Especially for frequenters of farmer's markets, U-pick farms, and seasonal restaurants, the experience of that first summer blueberry or the bright flavor of a winter orange are worth the wait - a concept that's become alien in our economy of instant gratification.
This is not to say that I never eat produce out of season - I use lemons year-round, as well as most tropical fruits. Sometimes I jump the gun on my anticipation, especially when I'm winter-weary, and buy something completely extravagant. But for some things, it's certainly worthwhile to wait for them to appear at the market.
This dish made everybody happy. If you have an infused olive oil, I encourage you to use it, as the flavor will really shine here. I used the oil from a jar of sun-dried tomatoes, and it was delicious, but basil- or pepper-infused oil would also be wonderful. You can use any sort of truly ripe heirloom tomato - I used Marvel Stripe.
I love the intensely green, peppery flavor of arugula, but you can use spinach or another soft green instead. You can also try this with other pastas, or skip the pasta altogether and just enjoy it as a fresh salad.
ingredients
4 large ripe tomatoes, chopped
1/2 red onion, sliced thinly
2 T. balsamic or white wine vinegar
2 T. infused olive oil
1 bunch of arugula, chopped
1 c. fresh basil, chiffonade
salt and pepper, to taste
1 lb. whole-grain farfalle
1 T. infused olive oil
salt
macadamia sprinkle:
1 c. macadamias, preferably soaked for 1-2 hours, drained and rinsed
2 T. nutritional yeast
salt to taste
instructions
1. Cook the pasta according to package instructions.
2. Toss the pasta with infused olive oil and salt to taste. Set aside in a large bowl.
3. Combine the tomatoes and onion with oil and vinegar.
4. Fold in the arugula and basil and season to taste with salt and pepper. Toss lightly with the pasta.
5. Combine the nuts with nutritional yeast in a food processor; pulse until crumbled until no large pieces remain. Add salt to taste.
6. Serve at room temperature in bowls, garnished with macadamia sprinkle.