Saturday, September 17, 2011
maters...
I didn't like tomatoes as a kid. Sauces, ok. Raw, not ok. My southern genes came into question as I wouldn't touch a mater sandwich (or okra, but that is another story). Peanut butter would be fine for me, thank you very much.

As an adult, I realize that what I don't like are the seeds. Or the slimy bits around the seeds. Other than that, I quite like them. I'll eat the tiny tart ones in salad, and the big heirlooms with basil and mozzarella on pizza. And the thing that has taken hold of my tastebuds lately...roasted tomatoes!



Not the sundried ones (or at least not the artificially/mass produced "sun"dried ones), but the slow roasted in a low oven ones. The tomato bounty has been good this summer, even though the torrential rain threatened to cut it short. My personal plant (a Black Russian paste) hasn't been very prolific, but the neighbors and coworkers and CSA boxes have been overflowing with lovely Grapes, Mr. Stripeys, Big Boys, Cherokee Purples, and Romas. I've been roasting for soups, salads, pastas, scones and snacking. And kind of making myself sick off of them. The key, I find, is to cut them in half (or into chunks) and de-seed them first. Then roast in a 250F oven for about 4 hours with some garlic & basil and a drizzle of olive oil. Heaven! In fact, only 1 small batch made it to the freezer for later. And there was the one batch that I forgot about and roasted for about 12 hours (this is far to long unless you want them to be Cajun style/charcoal). It'll be a while before Paul let's me live that one down...

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