Tomato Love

“There’s only two things that money can’t buy—

And that’s true love and homegrown tomatoes.”

--Guy Clark
Tequila Musing

This is a column about love. Love of those bright red and yellow fruit that weight their vines with the best of summer’s cargo, that have a smell in the garden unlike any other—a kind of earthy sunshine smell. Love of the glorious tomato.

It’s no secret that a tomato tastes best fresh-picked in full sunlight, still warm, the garden soil crumbling beneath your feet. I understand people who plant acres in nothing but tomatoes. I understand people who grow more than they can possibly eat, then make themselves the heroes of summer by doling them out to their friends.

And love of a friend who has been a culinary and very human hero of mine since I lived in her backyard cabin when I was in college. I had just eaten my way through a semester in Paris and came back to Dallas armed with the curious and wonderful certitude that I could actually learn to cook the food I liked to eat. The world seemed suddenly full of a possibility I had never considered before when I sat at my mother’s well-balanced and savory table or made my way through the grim monotony of the school cafeteria line.

Eating food in a foreign country opened my eyes in a way that the familiarity of home could never do, and when I came back from the streets lined with bakeries and cheese shops, vegetable stands and deli cases filled with sausages and mystery meats, I wanted to cook. Dodie Spencer, my landlady, headed up the Dallas Junior League Tea Room, and she knew good food. She still does.

Years later, after I had moved to Wimberley, my cousin gave me a Dallas Junior League Cookbook, and I flipped through the pages only to find a recipe for tomato pie by Dodie. I had to try it. I’ve been making it every summer ever since.

When I called Dodie, who lives in Wimberley, as well, to ask if I could include the recipe in my column, she told me she had submitted it to the Wimberley Institute of Cultures’ cookbook project, “The Village of Wimberley Cookbook,” which should come out in the spring of 2006. The committee, by the way, is still taking submissions and could use more recipes for entrees. (For more information, call Char Moreland, 847-5039, or Linda Hudson, 847-7262.)

Dodie makes her recipe in a pie pan. I like to use a tart pan with a removable base. Either way, the results are similar. Keep in mind that this recipe is a simple blending of highly complementary flavors that relies heavily on the quality of its ingredients. While you can use a store-bought crust, I recommend that you don’t. Go to the trouble of making the crust. Use butter. Flute the edges with your fingers. Get flour on your shirt.

And use Gruyere cheese. Don’t cave in to the bland convenience of Swiss cheese. Buy a small hard wedge of Parmesan and grate it over the top. Forgo the green can. Be generous with the fresh basil and cracked pepper.

Eat the pie warm or eat it at room temperature. Take it as a gift to a friend. Serve it to your children. Be one of summer’s heroes.

Tomatoes, firm, ripe, peeled (Number depends on size of the tomatoes)

Salt and pepper

Sweet basil, shredded

½ cup grated Gruyere cheese

Parmesan Cheese

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Prick pastry all over with a fork and line with foil. Fill foil with pie weights or dried beans and cook for 7 minutes. Remove foil and weights and return pie to oven for another 7 minutes until just beginning to brown. Remove from oven.

Slice tomatoes in thick slices. Sprinkle with salt and let drain on paper towels. Blot dry after about 20 minutes. Cover bottom of piecrust with Gruyere cheese. Place tomatoes on top of cheese and sprinkle with cracked pepper and shredded basil. Grate a generous amount of Parmesan cheese over tomatoes.

Bake at 375 or 400 until cheese are melted and crust is golden brown.

Enjoy!