Tomato skin salt

I went nose-to-tail with the tomatoes yesterday, y'all. Instead of composting the skins that I peeled away before canning the pulp, I made tomato skin salt! 

It's a beautiful, unique, outrageously "foodie" way to use what would otherwise be tossed. I mean, let's be honest. Tomato skin salt is not going to change anyone's life, but I dare say I find my little Weck jars to be awfully pretty filled with this salt, and it made a lovely sprinkle atop our salad last night.

Other uses, according to the recipe author, include rimming Bloody Mary glasses and jazzing up corn on the cob. It'd also be a great addition to guacamole. 

tomato skins and kosher salt: after baking in a low oven for nearly three hours

It's quite simple to make. Weigh the amount of peeled skins, measure out that same weight of coarse salt, lay the skins out on a parchment- or Silpat-lined baking sheet, sprinkle the salt evenly over the top and bake in a 200° Fahrenheit oven until the skins are totally dry and the salt is caked. Let cool and blitz in a spice grinder. 

tomato skin salt in always-lovely Weck jars

A summery feast

There was a tinge of coolness in the air on Monday. I wore jeans comfortably, I didn't sweat or feel as I were baking. Although I much prefer warm weather to cold, I admit to finding Monday's fall-like clime lovely and invigorating. It was, plain and simple, perfect- the very reason people love fall so much.

And yet, as the seasons change, so too does the produce they offer. I'm not over my crush on tomatoes, delicate summer squash, juicy fruit and the bright beauty of it all, and so, for the next few weeks, plan to eat and put up as much of it all as I can. 

My dear friend of the annual tomato haul brought a second load to me on Monday. Yesterday, I used the last of the original forty pounds to make tomato-saffron sauce which I froze, and today will embark on canning a big batch from the new tonnage. In the meantime, it's tomatoes every which way including a lunch of cold tomato soup (ingredients + blender + 3 minutes) and a dinner of Yotam's socca, aka chickpea crepes with caramelized onions, gently roasted tomatoes and dollops of crème fraîche. 

pretty in pink cold tomato soup

chickpea flour crepe

socca

You cannot go wrong with either of these recipes though the latter takes a great deal more time than the former. Both are posted in Recipes and are tremendous ways to enjoy summer tomatoes beyond the common but always tasty caprese and tomato sandwich. 

I also finished up the last of the peaches yesterday by making a lightly spiced peach butter. Fruit butters, which contain no actual butter AND are a terrific way to use up seriously ripe fruit, are nothing more than heavily reduced fruit + sugar. The cooking process is similar to making jam but slower and over more moderate heat. Sugar draws liquid from the fruit, that poaches the fruit pulp that remains, and then the whole mess cooks down into a thick, spreadable "butter." I love fruit butters, and this peach one by Kevin West, spiced with allspice, nutmeg, cinnamon and a generous pour of Bourbon, is no exception. 

spiced peach butter

Last night, to go alongside the socca, I made a marinated zucchini dish from Food52. I first had this marvelous preparation at 2 Amy's, one of my favorite DC restaurants, a Neapolitan pizza place that serves much more than pie. A few weeks back, Food52 published a version of it in their Genius Recipe column, and my mouth has been watering since. 

Zucchini can be so bland, but what that means is that you also have ample opportunity to zing it up. Zucchini-feta fritters are one terrific way to do that, as is this red wine vinegar-garlic coated method. This is good hot, room temperature or cold and can be made in advance. Three cheers! Food52's recipe calls for basil but I used mint. Both are traditional, so use what you have or prefer.

marinated zucchini

Another great way to use zucchini is to mandoline (slice paper thin) it and serve it ceviche-style -drenched in olive oil, salt, vinegar and such- or atop pizza where it kind of melts into the cheese and crust and is luscious.

shaved zucchini with mozzarella and shaved asparagus pizza

Back to it with the toms, y'all. 

A swarm

I just scrubbed my table clean, which sounds much simpler than it was. Coated in pesto, blueberry muffin crumbs, salsa and all manner of grubby finger and food residue, wiping it down took some real elbow grease. As I sponged the kids’ side, I looked down onto their chairs and saw more crumbs, noodles now hard as crackers and blueberries mashed so deeply into the fabric that they’re now part of it. I sighed.

I got out the dust-buster, which is on its last leg. I glanced at the cardboard box-now-a-muffin-cart that Oliver made over the weekend. I saw a rumpled Harry Potter cloak infused with cat hair wadded up in the corner of the room, and two half-completed Blow Your Mind science kits waiting for what? To be finished? Hilarious.

I came across receipts and expired coupons and twigs and dust bunnies, a half-written birthday card that’s now more than belated, a blanket that smells of dog. A friend was to come for a visit and some tea, but she’s stuck at home with a diarrheic toddler; she is at the end of her rope, and I understand because I wondered this morning, as I dropped the boys at the camp bus, if ever I’d been so glad to do so.

Fruit flies are swarming my kitchen. I thought Tom and the boys would have eaten the last of the peaches while I was away, but like all fruits and vegetables I left for them, the peaches were ignored, and in the soft spots and thin seams where the skin just splits, fruit flies found a feast. I do not hate fruit flies like I do the mosquitos that make it a brave act to go putter in my back yard this time of year, but they are annoying. Like inside gnats from which you cannot escape.

It’s pea soup outside today, and I am glad I have nowhere to be.

Yesterday was my annual physical and a last-minute thyroid ultrasound because one lobe felt swollen. It’s fine, and I have a new medicine because I am a chronic underperformer in the T3 department. My internist said I was such a grounded, well-adjusted person. 
Yesterday I took a run, unpacked and showered.
Yesterday I started packing again, as we leave on Saturday.
Yesterday I made blueberry muffins, those that later caked my table and chair and car, because Jack adores them and I didn’t have time to refill our freezer stash before I left.
Yesterday I made a beautiful dinner for the boys and later one for T and myself. Yesterday T and I stayed up watching Bill Maher’s show from Friday and laughing ourselves silly and enjoying another glass of wine together.

This morning we were tired, and the boys were just awful. Awful and annoying, like those fruit flies and mosquitoes all wrapped into one mean swarm. My heart was sad during our drive, and I told them in no uncertain terms that should they consider acting like this in England, I would absolutely get a babysitter and leave them at home all the damn day long. I was not joking.

We talked about insincere apologies and how hurtful and damaging they can be. We talked about hoarding and why I didn't want Oliver to keep the half a lizard he found in Louisiana last month that was rotting in a jar and stinking so badly that I threw it out without asking him. He pleaded with me to take the old, broken pretzel out of the garbage can. And the expired coupons too. I do not understand. I did not expect these conversations.

When I try so hard and my kids hurt my heart, I feel blindsided. Every single time. That’s the thing about kids growing up. They can start to disappoint you in a way babies can’t. They can start to choose to upset you. And really, in that volition and decision-making is celebration of their burgeoning independence but also challenge like you’ve never seen before.

It’s a gnatty vortex. Sometimes you want to give it space and appreciation, but at other times, you just want to swat the shit out of it. You want it to be a round nail in a round hole that you can push flat and quiet and seamless against the wall.