I have assumed my August identity, which is someone who only wants to eat tomatoes. I will eat them for breakfast, lunch, snacks, and drinks and while I haven’t had them in a dessert yet, I have seen an old 1950s tomato juice cake recipe floating around so there’s no telling how far I might go. Earlier this summer, there was a whole social media discourse arguing the best version of a tomato sandwich and to this I say: Who gives a shit*, in August? Pass the salt.
This happens every August, so I am not alarmed by my seasonal and sudden passion. Eventually, I know the fervor for a fresh, warm from the garden, sliced and salted tomato will wane, and I will move back into Normal Times that consist of plebeian uses of canned tomatoes, refusing to even look at a grocery store tomato** until next June when I start checking on my plants day and night to see if there is a tiny yellow flower forming, and haunting local farm stands looking for early hoop house tomatoes.
One of the finest applications of a delicious garden tomato is without a doubt: Tomato Toast. Earlier this summer, graced with the opportunity for a kid-free evening at a neighbor’s lakehouse with friends, I packed my tote with tomatoes, good bread, a cube of Boursin cheese, some sprigs of oregano, a bottle of red, and said “dinner’s handled.”
The concept is simple, and barely a recipe— which all the best summer recipes are— and as we bit into the first bite of the crispy fried bread, topped with juicy delicious tomatoes sitting on a bed of creamy, savory cheese we had no words, just occasional moans and mumbles of “oh my god.” Just four moms*** sitting at a kitchen bar, audibly moaning while we ate toast and sipped ice cold rosé with no children around and nobody to judge us.
With the weeks in August counting down, and the end of Tomato Season on the horizon, I implore you to find yourself the tomatoes, slice the bread, and make The Toast.
* I do, it’s actually a BLT.
**Cherry tomatoes are the only exception to this rule
***cool ones
Tomato Toast
As with all simple barely-a-recipe-recipes, the quality of ingredients matters here. Tomatoes are a given, but remember that amazing bread=amazing toast. Seek out a local bakery for their heartiest loaf, or make it yourself if during the pandemic you fell victim to sourdough and find yourself with an old starter in the back of your fridge. If you can’t deal with searching for or making bread like some sort of god-forsaken vision quest, usually the “fancy sourdough” boule from any grocery store will do. You want something sturdy, as the tomato juice will work quickly on the bread once you start eating. This recipe makes 4 toasts, but it is impossibly easy to increase or decrease servings here.
Ingredients:
“Good” bread, sliced into four 1” thick slices
3 Peak tomatoes, about 1 lb worth, sliced into 1/4 inch rounds and salted lightly
1 box of Boursin Shallot & Chive cheese (can also sub any Boursin flavor, or goat cheese would also probably be great)
Olive Oil
Kosher Salt
Flaky Salt (optional but encouraged)
Black Pepper
Fresh Oregano or Basil, torn or chopped into small pieces (dealer’s choice)
Method:
Free the Boursin from its little foil wrapper and place it into a medium-sized bowl. Drizzle 1 tablespoon of oil on top and using a fork, mash, stir, and whip into a spreadable paste. Set aside.
In a small saucepan (but big enough to contain one hearty slice of that bread), cover the bottom of the pan with olive oil. Heat over medium-high heat until shimmering.
Place the bread into the oil and fry fry fry, checking the underside occasionally until it is golden brown. Carefully flip and repeat on the other side. Remove bread from pan, set on plate or paper towel-lined sheet pan, and sprinkle lightly with kosher salt. Repeat with other slices of bread.
Time to assemble: On top of each piece of perfectly fried bread, smear a 1/8inch layer or so of the whipped Boursin. Gently layer tomatoes on top. Sprinkle with flakey salt, cracked black pepper, and herbs of choice.
Die a little inside of happiness when you take the first bite.