Sometimes, I think I could swan dive into a drinkable sea of summer ripe tomatoes and swim through the sticky sweet pulp.
Yep, it's high tide for summer tomatoes.
The jewels of summer.
Heirloom Tomato Tart.
Butter. Flour. Water. Stuff.
Undeterred by my limited baking skills, I managed to pull together a savory shortbread crust for a tomato tart. After sifting 1 3/4 cups all purpose flour into a food processor, I added 1 cup ( 2 sticks) chilled cubed unsalted butter, a pinch of salt, 1 tablespoon sugar, 3 tablespoons fresh thyme, and 3/4 cup grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese. I pulsed the flour and butter until it crumbed before slowly drizzling 4 tablespoons chilled water into the processor to bring the dough together.
After scraping the dough out of the processor, I shaped it into a 2" flat disk, covered it with plastic wrap, and slid it into the refrigerator to chill for 2 hours.
When the shortbread dough was thoroughly chilled, I turned it onto a floured cutting board and carefully rolled it into a 12 " ragged circle, repairing cracks along the way. I carefully placed the dough over a non-stick 9" tart pan with a removable bottom, nudged the dough into place, and pressed it into the pan. After slicing the excess dough from the rim, I brushed dijon mustard onto the base and covered it with 1 cup finely grated fontina cheese.
heirloom tomatoes in the unbaked tart shell, drizzled the tomatoes with olive oil, seasoned them with kosher salt, and slid the tart into a preheated 350 degree oven to bake for 35 minutes, adding a sprinkling of extra cheese over the tomatoes during the last five minutes.
When the crust was golden brown, I removed the tart from the oven and released it from the pan to cool on a wire rack.
Heirloom Tomato Tart with a Parmigiano-Reggiano Shortbread Crust. Michael and I toted it to a church potluck/picnic held on the historic lawns of the Old Episcopal Burial Ground in downtown Lexington.
It was quickly rechristened... tomato pie.
Go with the flow.
Although unlike any tomato pie carried to a church potluck on the grounds of my grandparent's country church in western Kentucky, my grandmother would
have been proud.