Slow Roasted Tomatoes

The cute guy didn't say a word when I handed him a 30 pound box of tomatoes this morning at the farmers' market. He just carried it to the car. I on the other hand was a little skeptical.

The grower had said the tomatoes wouldn't get any better than this though. The weather has been hot making the tomatoes naturally juicy. And the time was right for me after the conventions for some peace and quiet preserving.

My plan was to slow roast and freeze the tomatoes. I cut the tops off a couple dozen and arranged them cheek to cheek on the only cookie sheet I own. Then I emptied the cupboards of Pyrex dishes and muffin trays, moved oven racks, arranged more tomatoes, drizzled olive oil over all of them and filled the oven. An empty tomato box of success on the kitchen floor.

After fifteen hours on the lowest oven setting and the tomatoes will be shiny red orbs of summer love in a skin. That was the easy part. I was left with nine dozen tomato tops I hadn't counted on.

I started cutting. Meat side down I sliced four times around the stem leaving a square dime of waste. The remnants were solid, meaty. I started dicing the pieces and filling a bowl for salsa. As much as we love salsa, there was more than we would eat. It's impossible I would even consider the words, too much salsa, but really, there was a lot.

I cooked the remaining tomato top leftovers for dinner; sweet tomato sauce with browned garlic served over fresh spinach and angel hair pasta. My mouth is still sweet from the taste of it and the peaceful afternoon.

My advice to the presidential, and vice presidential candidates: Make sauce, not rhetoric.