Craving Summer and BBT Pie. (Bacon, Basil, and Tomato Pie, That Is.)

September is a bittersweet month. While we're thickly back into school and after-school activity mode, I'm still desperately clinging to summer. I'm not ready for rushed dinners and early bedtimes. I want to lounge with the kids, reading books and playing ping-pong, not cracking my taskmaster whip to memorize multiplication tables or--worse--to solve for x. I watch leaves fall and litter the pool, but my heart's not ready to surrender and cover it. 

And I'm certainly not ready to give up tomatoes.

Sadly, though, the time is here. A few vines barely cling to life in the garden. Most of the tomato plants were pulled up long ago, victim to too much rain and too little sun. (It was a very odd South Carolina summer.) I spent a ridiculous amount of time pruning the few survivors, removing diseased leaves and knowing that I should just end their misery and allow them an honorable death for their service. (Can you tell I'm reading Game of Thrones?) 

Still, the few pitiful vines continue to produce a few pitiful tomatoes, and I'm taking full advantage of the fruit before it disappears completely. 

Hoping to embrace the last wisps of summer, I decided we needed a dinner that would makes us feel that we're still in the thick of summer, when produce is abundant and days are lazy.

In South Carolina, the quintessential summer dinner is Tomato Pie.

Maybe it's not only a South Carolina staple, but I'd never heard of tomato pie until we crossed the Mason-Dixon line. I know it never graced our dinner table in Munster, Indiana. (I wouldn't have eaten it, anyway. My family will attest that I was the world's pickiest eater.)

Over the years, my friends Dana and Janet shared their recipes for tomato pie with me. Let me assure you, when you mention on Facebook that you're about to make a tomato pie, your friends will begin salivating, asking when they should arrive for dinner. 

I know. I've been on the other side. 

Admittedly, I'm not a brave cook. I'm typically a recipe follower, too fearful to deviate from perfectly proportioned ingredients. But somehow, I became a chef renegade when I pulled out my friends' tomato pie recipes.

I added. I deleted. I substituted. I feared disaster.

But you know what?

It was yummy.

Before we get to the recipe, I feel you're owed full disclosure.

I used a pre-made pie crust. 

I know, I know...I've lost all credibility with you now. And I know my friend Janet will tell me that I shouldn't be intimidated by pie crusts. 

But it was a school night, and suddenly it was 6 p.m. and I hadn't even thought about starting dinner. So, rather than forgo that lovely taste of summer, I punted and used pre-made.

I'm sorry.

Janet uses this recipe for her pie crust. I'm going to use it when I make an apple pie this afternoon. Really. I am.

Regardless of whether you use a homemade or a pre-packaged pie crust, I urge you to snatch up the last summer tomatoes from your garden or the farmers' market and make this tomato pie tonight.

It will make you happy. I promise.

BBT Pie (Bacon, Basil, Tomato Pie)

Ingredients:

4 large tomatoes, or 8 medium, cut into 1/4-inch slices. (I used a variety of organic heirloom tomatoes to make the flavor more complex.)
8 slices bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces, cooked
2 shallots, diced
1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 tsp. salt, plus extra for tomato prep
1 tbsp. fresh chives, chopped finely
2 tbsp. fresh basil, chopped
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus a bit extra to sprinkle on top
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pie crust in ungreased 9-inch pie pan, fold edges under, and pinch or crimp crust with fingers or fork. 

2. Bake crust for 10 minutes until lightly browned. Remove from oven.
 
3. While oven preheats and as crust pre-bakes, slice tomatoes and place on paper towels. Sprinkle with salt to draw water out of fruit, and let tomatoes rest approximately 20 minutes. (If you skip this step, your tomato pie can be quite soupy.) Pat dry.

4. In a large skillet, brown bacon until crispy. Remove bacon from pan.

5. Add shallots to bacon grease in pan and cook until slightly brown, approximately 3-4 minutes. Remove shallots and drain grease.

6. Sprinkle 1/2 cup grated Parmesan on bottom of pie crust.

7. Layer tomatoes on top of Parmesan until crust is filled to approximately 1/4-inch of top of pan.

8. Stir together mayonnaise, bacon, basil, shallots, chives, and remaining Parmesan cheese and mozzarella cheese until well-blended.

9. Spread mixture evenly over the top of the tomatoes. Grate a bit of Parmesan and sprinkle on top.

10. Bake in 350-degree oven for 40-45 minutes, removing when cheese begins to brown.

11. Cool and serve with a frosty glass of Pinot Grigio.

Of course, you can make the tomato pie without bacon, but honestly, once you taste it, you'll understand why the bacon belongs nestled next to the tomatoes. It's salty and savory and defines the flavor of summer. Take a bite, chase it with the chilly wine...divine.

So quick--grab those last tomatoes. I promise this tomato pie will make you feel like it's hammock and beach season--at least mentally.

What is the summer food that you miss most in the winter?

Enjoy!

XOXO ~

Julie

Perfectly Peachy Decadence.

I dread the end of summer. 

I miss the kids when they're at school, although I do manage to get more written without their company.

I miss the amazing tomatoes from the garden, which are now shrimpled, brown, ungainly vines.

I miss the incredible sweet corn from our local farmer. And I'm holding a little grudge, too, because he assured me there would be corn until the end of August.

Excuse me? It's only August 22. Give me my corn!

I know that soon—too soon—I'll be missing those drippy, hurt-your-teeth-with-sweetness South Carolina peaches. I'm currently eating my weight in peaches daily.

Speaking of weight...guess who lost 25 lbs? Still, there's more to go, but for now I'm celebrating.

And you know how I did it?

By eating the most delicious, fresh, amazing local fruits and veggies instead of junk. And eating less.

Wow, it's rocket science.

Still, this isn't about diets and weight loss or the fact that I did just eat a handful of Lucky Charms. This is about celebrating summer and gorging on delicacies that we'll miss when it's cold, gray, and nasty.

It's about peach crisp.

Not cobbler. Crisp.

I've never been a cobbler girl. My dad used to make cobbler, using the doughy Bisquick mixture as the topping. I would scrape off the mushy biscuit wannabes to get to the good stuff underneath, still wishing for a bit of sweet, crispy topping.

When faced with an enormous load of peaches I bought for my lunches, I realized we would soon host a fruit fly fest in our kitchen if I didn't use them quickly.

It was time for a crisp.

Naturally, I turned to my good friend, Alice Waters.

Alice never fails me. Not only is she my hero with her Edible Schoolyard project and Chez Panisse Restaurant, but she holds my hand when I have an overabundance of zucchini or spinach and no creative culinary thoughts in my brain. Alice doesn't bully or tease about my domestic shortcomings—but she insists on the real deal.

Fresh food. Local. Sustainable.

She makes cooking—and eating—a pleasure.

Alice's The Art of Simple Food is my go-to cookbook, used more than any of our dozens of kitchen guides. When I was a college student, my mom presented me with my first cookbook: The Joy of Cooking.

I'm not quite sure what she was thinking. After all, in college we lived on Raman noodles and Avanti's pizza bread. Cooking didn't coincide with my lifestyle.

Still, I know many college students are much more evolved due to our local food revolution. Our son and his girlfriend often cook elaborate meals with the ingredients from our gardens. I think they would actually enjoy The Art of Simple Food.

But they can't have my copy.

I still look up the recipe every time I make peach crisp.

Last night, I opened Alice's book and tackled the pile of peaches while Peter and Mikey went to soccer practice. By the time they came home, the house smelled amazing.

Of course, peach crisp alone is delicious. Peach crisp with homemade whipped cream, however, is divine.

So, to help you celebrate the dwindling summer days, I'm sharing with you Alice's recipe for Peach Crisp, and my own recipe for homemade whipped cream. You may need to travel to SC for the peaches, because you know we grow the best peaches in the country, right? We even have the giant peach to prove it. 

(Or, as our oldest son said when he was a little guy: “Mommy! Look at the big butt!”)

Peach Crisp
Slightly adapted from The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters

Ingredients:

4 pounds ripe peaches

1 tablespoon sugar (if needed—check the sweetness of the peaches first)

1-1/2 tablespoons flour

Preheat over to 375 degrees.

To peel the peaches, use a sharp knife and cut an “X” at the base of each peach. Dip the peaches in boiling water for 10 to 15 seconds, then peel off the skins. Cut the peaches in half, remove the pit, and slice into 1/2-inch pieces. (Be careful—those naked peaches are slippery little buggers. My left ring finger is proof. Ouch.)

Add the sugar and flour to the peaches and mix well. Place the fruit in a 2-quart baking dish to await the topping.

Crisp Topping

(Note: Alice's version calls for nuts, which I don't use. If you want a nuttier crisp topping, toast 2/3 cups of nuts—pecans, walnuts, or almonds—allow to cool, then chop coarsely. Add to mixture.)

Ingredients

1-1/4 cup flour

6 tablespoons brown sugar

1-1/2 tablespoons granulated sugar

¼ teaspoon salt (leave out if using salted butter)

¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon (I used a little more—we like lots of cinnamon.)

12 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces.

First, thoroughly mix all of the ingredients except the butter. Add butter a bit at a time, mixing into the flour mixture with your fingers, a pastry blender, or stand mixer using the paddle attachment. (Because I'm a lazy cook, I use the mixer.) Work until the mixture comes together and has a crumbly texture.

Spoon crisp topping evenly over the top of the fruit mixture. Place in 375-degree oven and bake for 40-45 minutes.

Homemade whipped cream

Ingredients:

1 pint whipping cream

¾ cup sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

Add all ingredients into bowl of stand mixer. Mix on high for 2-3 minutes or until correct whipped cream consistency. (Check mixture frequently after two minutes to ensure that you're not making butter!) Can store in the refrigerator for several days.

Serve with peach crisp. Or eat by the spoonfuls without any adornment, as Kiki is known to do.

Happy end of summer fruit binging!

XO ~

Julie 
P.S. Confession: I only wish Alice Waters was my best friend. Sadly, we've never met...

Jack-O'-Lantern in July.

If you find a perfect pumpkin in the compost bin, you know you have to make it into a jack-o'-lantern, even if it is July.

 

Of course, getting two children to agree on a theme for one pumpkin is rather tricky. Thus, our summer-themed jack-o'-lantern includes a sun, a moon, and a palm tree. 

As an extremely tired mother, I let go of my normal compulsion to talk them into something cuter. It was, after all, 10 p.m. by the time they finished swimming and came in to carve the pumpkin. (Personally, I thought a beach umbrella and waves would be festive.)

Our jack-o'-lantern adorned the stoop last night, glowing brightly while we listened to an owl hooting in the forest. It felt eerily like Halloween. 

But then, with today's mid-90 degree temperatures, our poor pumpkin began to melt. So, tonight our jack-o'-lantern became a snack for happy chickens.

Have you ever found anything interesting growing in your compost bin? I'm hoping we find another pumpkin...a little later in the season.

Happy July-oween!

 ~ Julie