What I did with my very last tomato

Yes, folks, it's true: tomato season has come to a close. Back when I made this, in October, I wasn't walking, it seemed pretty unlikely that I'd make it back to the farmers market to catch one last round of tomato madness, so I figured it was safe to assume that the tomato I ate that night was my last for the season. I'm a card-carrying member of the tomato lovers' cult, so that's not an easy thing to admit -- but, like an old fling whose time has come to an end, I think I can walk away from this one with no regrets.

Running with that analogy for a minute: you'd like to think your last time with the fling would be the best there was to have, the best there ever would have been. But that's never the case, is it? Usually the last time is just....fine. Such was the case with my last tomato. It wasn't one of those specimens that could have been framed. No shiny, taut, glossy skin and jewel-like innards. Had it been perfect, I'd have eaten it raw, simply sliced with olive oil and fleur de sel. But I was already smack-dab in the middle of fall, and my tomato wasn't so perfect. However, it was jam-packed with flavor, that I can assure you. So I prepared that last tomato in a dish that quickly became a standby this summer -- a dish that's perfect for celebrating tomatoes' flavor even when their texture is somewhat imperfect. What's that, you ask?

Quick-sauteed tomatoes with feta and anaheim chilies. So few steps, so many flavors. It's one of those dishes where the right ingredients, the right cooking method and time, and the right appetite just work. It really is such an easy dish to throw together; while I generally make it for one, it is easily be sized up to feed a crowd. And while I often find myself eating it straight out of a bowl (and drinking the soupy sauce at the end, slurps and all), this quick-stew would be lovely (and a bit fancier) served over a slice of toasted baguette, perhaps rubbed with garlic. Already, I'm wishing I had a few more bites on hand!

If you've got one more tomato -- or, perhaps, one tomato that's not as shiny and perfect as all the others -- don't hesitate; make this dish. I promise, you'll look back on that last tomato with fond memories, and not one ounce of regret.

Sauteed tomatoes with feta and anaheim chilies serves 1

1 large tomato, needn't be perfect; I used beefsteak 1 anaheim chili 1 sprig cilantro, optional a couple big chunks feta cheese, high quality and not low-fat salt and pepper

Roast the chili over an open flame. I use my gas stove. Roast until the skin is blistered all over. Either using a damp paper towel or under running water, remove the charred skin until only the flesh remains. To reduce the pepper's heat, remove the seeds and fibrous membrane threads as well. Slice pepper into rings.

Slice tomato into 8 wedges, and slice each wedge in half. In small saute pan, place tomato, pepper, and 1 Tbsp of olive oil. Saute for 3 or so minutes over medium heat, until tomatoes begin to emit their juices. Toss a few times to incorporate. Add chunks of feta cheese, give the whole thing one quick stir to break up the feta a bit, turn off the heat, and eat immediately. Done correctly, the stew will make a delightful spicy feta-tomato broth at the bottom of the bowl, which is absolutely perfect for slurping. I usually lick the bottom of my bowl without shame.

Cauliflower Soup

Keeping kosher has its fair share of... challenges. Never have I cooked a meat dish that has any sort of dairy product, be it cream or even butter. When I make meat for dinner, dessert can't have butter in it. I don't use shortening, which makes things rather difficult. Butter aside, one great sacrifice of kosher cooking is not being able to use pancetta. Now I can't say for sure that it's actually a sacrifice -- after all, I've never actually had pancetta -- but I think it's safe to say that it's one of the most oft-used flavorings for vegetables, soups, and stews of all kinds.

When I came across a beautiful cauliflower at the farmers market a couple weeks ago, I knew I'd be experimenting with cauliflower soup recipes. I came home and began poking around my cookbooks and recipe sites in search of promising combinations, but almost every recipe I found called for some form of pig. And I can understand why: pancetta, bacon and the like provide the perfect smoky, meaty background flavor against which the mild, creamy, fresh-tasting cauliflower really shines. I started to feel a bit handicapped -- as though no amount of searching would product an all-vegetarian recipe that would have real flavor.

Fortunately, I didn't dispair. I just decided to conduct an innocent little test, using none other than Morningstar Farms Bacon Strips. For those of us who've never tried bacon, Morningstar makes a pretty tasty imitation. Their strips are smoky and salty, and if you fry them over super-low heat for a while, they even get nice and crispy. I eat them all the time for breakfast, but I'd never thought to use them in place of bacon in recipes -- until now.

I chopped two strips into bits, and fried them in olive oil with a bit of garlic and onion. Once the onion was somewhat browned, I added two cups of water to stop the cooking. I then added three more cups of water, and 1 whole cauliflower, chopped into florets. I sprinkled salt and pepper, grated a bit of nutmeg, and dropped a parmiggiano rind in before popping the cover on and letting it simmer away. Once the cauliflower was cooked through and soft, I ggggg-ed away with my immersion blender until the soup was completely smooth. Taking inspiration from an epicurious recipe, I topped each bowl with a shaving of parmiggiano and a drizzle of white truffle oil. Totally vegetarian, totally delicious

Cauliflower Soup adapted from Bon Appetit

2 ounces applewood-smoked bacon (about 2 1/2 slices), chopped (I used Morningstar farms) 1 cup chopped onion 3/4 cup chopped celery 2 garlic cloves, chopped 6 cups 1-inch pieces cauliflower (cut from 1 large head) 3-6 cups liquid: low-salt chicken broth and water are both fine 1 3/4-inch cube Pecorino Romano or Parmiggiano Reggiano cheese plus additional cheese shavings for serving

1/2 cup heavy whipping cream, optional (I didn't use it) White or black truffle oil (for drizzling) preparation

Sauté bacon in heavy large saucepan over medium heat until golden brown and some fat renders. Add onion, celery, and garlic. Cover and cook until vegetables are soft, stirring occasionally, about 7 minutes. Add about 5 cups water (less for thicker soup), cauliflower, and cheese cube. Bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until cauliflower is tender, about 20 minutes.

Puree soup in batches in processor. Return to same pan. Add cream if desired, and bring soup to simmer. Thin with more broth by 1/4 cupfuls if desired. Season with salt and pepper. Cool slightly; cover and chill. Can be made 1 day ahead.

To serve: reheat soup. Ladle into bowls. Sprinkle with cheese shavings; drizzle with truffle oil.

Steelcut Oatmeal with Peach Compote

Is it obvious I love breakfast? Between french toast casserole, cinnamon buns, vintage breakfast biscuits, shakshuka, and even simple bites like this one, I seem to have found my obsession. In keeping with my breakfast trend, here's another maddeningly simple morning meal option: steelcut oats.

What are steelcut oats? They're oats, really -- but unlike quick oats, which are essentially slices of oats, steelcut oats are like large crumbs. They look more like Grape Nuts than Quaker. They're also quite firm; they don't crumble in your hand the way quick oats can. They take about 25 minutes to cook fully, which means you need to have a bit of time to cook'em up. But if you've got the time, you'll be handsomely rewarded: cooked steelcut oats are like a thicker, homier version of grits or polenta, with a distinctly nutty flavor and lovely pot liquor. I also add a pinch of salt to the water for contrast, and a daub of butter at the end, a la Mandy, because it makes breakfast more luxurious. In my humble opinion, oatmeal is best topped with a splash of milk or half and half, and either a dollop of jam or a spoonful of fresh fruit compote. In this case, I used my very last summer peach to make a lovely quick compote that went perfectly with the oatmeal.

These steelcut oats make a lovely break from my weekday morning routine, but oatmeal's really a splendid breakfast, anyway you cut it.

Steelcut Oatmeal with Peach Compote 1 cup steelcut oats 2 cups water a pinch of salt 1 Tbsp butter, optional

In a small pot, bring water and salt to a boil. Add oats, stir to incorporate, and turn heat down to low. Let oatmeal simmer, stirring regularly, for about 25 minutes, until water is absorbed and remaining liquid is thick, as with grits or polenta.

While oatmeal is cooking, make peach compote:

1 peach 2-3 Tbsp. sugar 1 tsp. cinnamon pinch salt 1/2 cup water splash white wine, optional

Combine all ingredients in a small saute pan. Simmer over medium heat until liquid is reduced and syrupy, about 10-15 minutes.

Serve oatmeal in deep, comfort-food bowls, with cream and peach compote (or jam, or even maple syrup. yum.)

The Simplest Breakfast

Lazy Sunday morning here in localsville. Since localseasonal September started, a Sunday morning routine has developed. I wake up, make myself a cup of coffee, drink the littlest bit of it and make D mad by letting it cool to room temp, assure her that I meant to let it sit as I stick it in the fridge for ice coffee later, and then trot over to the farmers market, lots-o-canvas-bags in tow. By the time I'm back from the market, I'm warm (it's a bit of a hike from Dupont with all those groceries in hand) and I'm hungry. So I take out those beautiful yellow cherry tomatoes, that Keswick creamery spreadable herb cheese, those farm-fresh eggs, and that lovely, tart cows milk yogurt, and I whip us up a little breakfast. Nothing fancy -- wonderful, in fact, in its sheer simplicity. These pics are from our breakfast 2 weeks ago.

Happy lazy local Sunday, everyone!