Open Season on Tomatoes

This week I had a stroke of genius in the kitchen.  It involved tomato sandwiches.

I must inform you, it is not really summer until I have consumed a tomato sandwich, and I am picky about what kind of sandwich is assembled.  The tomato sandwich must be made with a fresh tomato from someone's garden, wholesome toasted whole wheat bread, and real mayo.  That is the absolute minimum.  Other condiments of one's choosing are optional, but these three ingredients are the least one can do to send that poor, delicious tomato into oblivion.  Red or yellow, purple or orange, they are precious in my sight, and it is finally tomato season.

Up until this week, I merely washed and sliced the tomato.  But why not roast it?  Why not, indeed.  So I washed and sliced the ripe red tomato, drizzled it with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and roasted it in the toaster oven for about 15 minutes while I prepared our other condiments of choice: bacon and fresh mozzarella.  Bacon isn't a condiment.  Condiment, indeed.  Into the pan went the pig, fried until crispy.  Out came the whole wheat bread (Grains Galore from KC's Farm to Market bakery), ready for toasting.  Out came the real mayo (nothing fancy here, just a store brand with the least amount of scary ingredients), ready for slathering.  By this time the tomatoes were done roasting, and I sampled a pygmy slice, just to be safe.  Success!  The roasting process brought out some of the natural sugars in the fruit, leaving it with a little less bite while still remaining a savory treat.  I was suddenly inspired to purchase a barrel of tomatoes and do this with each and every one.  That seems wasteful.  What would you do with all those tomatoes?  Do, indeed:

"And what to do with them?  Namely, anything....  I put them... in my mouth.  Or mix them with white beans or slivers of basil.  Or in my mouth.  Or in salad.  But mostly in my mouth."  ~ Deb at Smitten Kitchen

Thus it was that the tomato sandwiches came into being.  I laid the lightly toasted bread on a plate and spread a layer of mayo on each piece.  Next, I broke two pieces of melt-in-your-mouth-crispy bacon in half and placed the four halves, side by side, on top of one of the pieces of bread.  Atop the bacon, I distributed two slices of fresh mozzarella.  Finally, the guest of honor: With much ado and a little dance, I lovingly positioned the warm tomato slices on the other side of the bread, and pressed the two halves together.  You're getting kind of worked up about a sandwich.  Worked up, indeed.  It was a sacred moment.  A time for writing home to mom, as they say.  [Hi Mom!]

The result was delicious.  I'll probably do this from now on with tomato sandwiches.  The combination of textures and flavors, along with the juiciness of the sandwich, made for a delectable meal.  Michael was impressed as well.  "You make the best sandwiches," he said.

Michael (aka "manspouse") can definitely hold his own in the kitchen, though.  Last night, for example, he made me oatmeal chocolate chip cookies--stirred by hand as not to wake me up, mind you!  They were amazing, and perfectly cooked.  Is there any way better to begin your day than with the sight and smell of freshly baked cookies?  I submit that there is not.

One more food-related item before I leave you to go roast your own tomatoes.  This week I had a watermelon limeade with mint from Pandolfi's Deli in Columbus Park (near River Market), and it was the best summer drink I have ever tasted.  They make fresh drinks like these every day (next on the list was strawberry lemonade), so I'll be back soon!  Who wants to join me?  After all that rigamarole about tomatoes, I'm a little hesitant to go anywhere with you.  Get it together. 

Together indeed!