I left London to spend a few days at my mother’s in County Durham. I’ve been admiring the work my brother’s done in her garden (new lawn, footings for a summer house), helping her thin out her wardrobe (“This is lovely because it means I can get lots of new clothes!”), blow drying her hair, watching cop shows and drinking lots of tea.
I’ve been cooking a little bit, roasting a chicken, flaking smoked mackerel into a salad, melting butter over boiled new potatoes, dressing Little Gem lettuce with olive oil, lemon juice and salt. Nothing fancy.
What do you do when your heart is in the south of France but your tomatoes are from Asda?
After a quick minute, though, I miss the way I cook in my little French kitchen. I did a trolley dash around the supermarket. There are things I miss from English shops – easy access to a wide variety of spices, pickles, those Merchant Gourmet pouches of cooked pulses and grains, marmalade, Rose’s Lime Cordial, Stilton, Barry’s Tea – but I’d trade all of that for the produce in my French greengrocer’s right now. I love vegetables with a pure love, I can’t resist them even when I should know better. So of course I bought those bright red tomatoes on the vine and obviously they tasted of sadness. What do you do when your heart is in the south of France but your tomatoes are from Asda?
Roasting tomatoes, as for today’s recipe, tomates à la Provençale, gives even the most lacklustre examples a quick injection of character whether they like it or not. This is a classic French side dish and for some, it supplies more of a madeleine moment than an actual madeleine. Put a dish of them on the table and many French people will tell you about their mother’s recipe, their grandmother’s recipe, occasionally their father’s or grandfather’s recipe. They’re very simple, usually just tomatoes with salt and pepper, some herbs and garlic, scattered with breadcrumbs and then cooked quite hot until the tops are golden. They’re great with roast meat or grilled fish, or with a salad and other vegetable dishes. You can also dress them up a bit with anchovies, capers and/or black olives, a little good, tinned or jarred tuna, or with some cheese as I’ve done here. They taste of sunshine, wherever you find yourself.
Tomates à la Provençale
You can make these ahead and put them in the oven just before you want to serve them if you like. I prefer to serve them warm, rather than steaming hot. You can taste their flavours better that way.
Serves 6-12
6 medium-sized tomatoes – you want them to be a little firm
80g fresh breadcrumbs
1 bunch of parsley, leaves and fine stems only, about 15g, very finely chopped
4-6 garlic cloves, halved, any green germ removed and discarded, then very finely minced or grated
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves, finely chopped, plus a few sprigs for the tin
1 tsp dried herbes de Provence – if you don’t have dear old h de P, though it is very widely available these days, just up the parsley and thyme a bit, and perhaps add some chopped sage, chives, tarragon, whatever soft herbs you have to hand
80g soft goat’s cheese, optional
2-3 tbsp olive oil
Salt and freshly-ground black pepper
Line a large plate or tray with a couple of thicknesses of kitchen paper.
Cut the tomatoes in half horizontally. With a small teaspoon, scoop out the seeds – you don’t need to be too completist, just removing some of them will help the top to crisp up and create room for other ingredients such as cheese or tuna.
Season each half with salt and pepper then place each half cut-side down on the kitchen paper. Leave to drain for 30 minutes.
While the tomatoes are draining, prepare the rest. In a small bowl, stir together the breadcrumbs, parsley, garlic, thyme and herbes de Provence until everything is very well combined. Trickle on 1 tbsp of the olive oil and give everything another stir.
Heat the oven to 200C/180C Fan/Gas 6. Line a roasting tin or an ovenproof dish with baking parchment and scatter the thyme sprigs on the parchment. Place the tomatoes cut-side up on the parchment.
If you’re using the goat’s cheese, cut it up into scraps and place them in the hollows of the tomatoes where the seeds once were.
Next, hold a tomato half over the bowl with the breadcrumb mixture on it and scatter some in a thick, even layer over the top. I find doing it like this ensures you get the mixture evenly to the edges much more efficiently than doing it when they’re in the tin – the excess just falls right back into the bowl so you’re not wasting it. Place it back in the tin and repeat with the rest.
Season with salt and pepper and trickle over the remaining olive oil.
Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the tomatoes are soft and the tops are golden.
Tomatoes that taste of sadness 😔 this is so true
British tomatoes make me very sad. Why do we settle for such poor produce when everywhere else gets so much richness