I hadn't turned my oven or stove on in over a week. I felt like a ghost in my kitchen. My dear oven sat unused. My stove beckoned. My heart craved pastry. I had twelve pounds of tomatoes taking up some valuable kitchen real estate. No complaints. I'm just saying. Actually, I'm tickled to death over my abundant tomato harvest this year. I'd even go so far as to say "giddy". The rest of my yard, however, is sporting beige tones. Sigh. I promised myself I'd abstain from whining about this godforsaken summer. I came across a "vintage" tomato pie recipe a few months back. I made a mental note to myself to make said pie once the harvest began. Revisiting the recipe didn't inspire quite the same level of excitement as it had in February. In fact, upon closer inspection, I'd decided I could do much better. Feel free to Google "tomato pie" and you tell me what you think.
I am smitten with the result of my newly created spin on the classic. First of all, it's in a pie shell! Second of all, it's not poured and baked on TOP of a pie shell resulting in a less-than-desirable texture, think: "soggy".
For the pie dough--you are forgoing the usual "roll to 1/8" thickness" and using your hands to gently form the dough until it yields to the warmth of the palms and fingers over a lightly floured counter, then flattening it into the shape of whatever vessel you choose to bake your pie--to about a half inch thickness. Very easy. No stress. The dough recipe I decided to use was the same recipe I used a while back for my Peach Galette. While I didn't solely rely on tomatoes to fill my pie, I kept to the theme of fresh summer and mostly locally grown veggies to support the rest of the dish itself.
Yes. Some baking is required.
I've become a student of pie dough. I am constantly reading techniques on how best to create the most delicious pie dough--flaky, buttery, intensely delish. I believe the galette dough to be one of the best I've had. Thanks again to Flo Braker and her brilliant pastry mind.
Essential to the pie's aroma and filling are fresh herbs from the garden. I had some oregano and basil ready for harvest. (The fact is, I make it a point to ALWAYS have fresh basil and oregano ready in my garden in summer--drought or no drought.)
See what I mean--simple, rustic. No precision required. The only mandatory part of the tomato pie baking process is to chill the dough for at least a half hour in the freezer--then move to the fridge for another twenty minutes--or chill for one hour in the fridge. I added in some cooked wild rice. I felt it added an essential earthiness to the pie's robust summer flair. Also, I felt I needed to give the pie a bit more umph and did so with a few Gardein patties. Your call in that department, of course. Heirloom Tomato Pot Pie with Biscuity-Thick Crust
5-8 heirloom tomatoes chopped2 medium-sized sweet onions chopped1 yellow zucchini halved, then quartered1 green zucchini halved, then quartered2 celery stalks, chopped4-6 cloves garlic minced1-2 jalapeno peppers, seeded/minced (*optional, but I had two dozen on hand, to they needed to be used)1 cup cooked wild rice2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar2 tablespoons Earth Balance butter1 cup vegetable stock1-2 Gardein Chick'n patties, cooked and chopped 1/8 cup chopped fresh basil2 stems fresh oreganosalt and pepper to taste1 single or double crust pie dough
Preheat oven to 425. Lightly spray your pie dish with non stick cooking spray. Line a cookie sheet with foil and set aside. Make sure you've prepped the pie dough and have it on stand-by in the fridge. You won't need to spend a whole lot of time rolling it as you are free-form shaping it, so it can be managed toward the end of the veggie cooking. Next, if you are adding wild rice, be sure to get the rice cooking now. For the filling, add 2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil to a large saute pan over medium heat and begin adding all the chopped veggies. Allow the mixture simmer for about 20 minutes--until the onions begin to get translucent--stirring every so often. The vegetables in this dish don't need to be cooked until they fall apart--you want to retain some shape as the pie baking time will break the veggies down further. Toward the end of the cooking, add the vegetable broth, then, add the butter. Whisk the butter into the mixture slowly, allowing it to melt and thicken the sauce. Finally, fold in the rice (if using). Remove the pie shell from fridge and over a lightly floured kitchen counter, begin shaping the dough by hand to fit over the pie dish you plan to bake your tomato filling in. Pour tomato filling into the dish. Top with a couple of leaves of fresh basil and fresh oregano. *If you have more tomato mixture than will fit into the pan, no worries, save the extra to use on a sandwich the next day. Place the pie dough over the filling. With a knife, cut small slits in the dough to allow the steam to escape. Place the foil-lined cookie sheet in the oven, then carefully place the pie dish on top of the cookie sheet. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until the pie crust begins to brown around the edges. Remove from oven and allow pie to sit for fifteen minutes to cool before serving. This is delicious as a leftover the next day! Enjoy!
Yes. I baked. Out of necessity. Out of the need for comfort, for kitchen time, for sanity . . . for chocolate. It was not a difficult decision for me. This baking moment. I wanted to bake to heal. 
Recently, I had the pleasure of purchasing The Back in the Day Bakery Cookbook by Cheryl Day and Griffith Day. I adore it! Cheryl was on Paula Deen's, Best Dishes. I happened to catch the episode this past weekend while running on the treadmill. (Of course I watch Food Network when I run!) 
This is the hill up to the second level of my garden patch. Nothing but solid packed clay. S-O-L-I-D clay. It will take weeks of rain to undo the damage from this drought. The Mississippi River in St. Louis is receding. Last I heard, it was at two feet. . . two feet! At the recorded lowest, the river was at minus six feet, back in early 1940s, I believe. I have a link to the Drought Monitor page here. This is like nothing I've ever lived through in my Almost Fifty years. I know I keep talking about it. And I know that talking about it won't make it go away--but if you live somewhere with rain and it's only in the nineties--well, count your blessings. 
View from the porch--looking over my herb beds. Gardening with raised beds helps in the watering department. 
There are a few happy moments in my garden though. Like this one. A PERFECT tomato. 
For perfect salsa-making. 
I wanted to write about these quinoa patties we'd had for over a week now. But the heat had stifled my writerly self to the point of such despair that I'd contemplated shunning "The Blog" for the remainder of the season until my heart and mind could once again muster the strength to put into words food stuff and my ramblings. Then I had that chocolate moment last week and that sort of broke the spell. Thank. God.
Action shot: rain.
Action shot: hummingbird. How cool is that? (Okay it only took a hundred and fifty attempts, but still.) 
I've been in a rut lately. This is our third batch of these coconut shortbread cookies. I'm finding it difficult to "move on". They're the perfect beige food. (I have this overly obsessive nature--thus the "three batches" thing.) It all started with a cookie craving. I had to have a cookie with a long shelf life, and one that would step in as a late night dessert. These cookies aren't fussy. They have a light crumb--and I find the added coconut with macadamia nuts to be as close to heaven as you can get if chocolate isn't happening for you. (Rare. I know.) 
I stumbled across this recipe while I was re-arranging my cookbook collection. Which took me almost an entire day, a trip to Target for a new bookshelf and another trip to a used bookstore in search for. . . more cookbooks! (I actually hit a really good sale--hardbound books selling for three dollars a piece!) One of which was Nancy Silverton's, Breads from the La Brea Bakery. More on that in a second. 
So during the cookbook foray, I found myself re-reading several bread books. I love reading about baking bread. Something about the science and all that stuff I missed in chemistry fascinates me. And I consider myself a worthy bread baker. Certainly better than a beginner at this point in my baking life. I made a really wonderful loaf (pictured above) of Jim Lahey's Rye Bread from his book, My Bread. One of my most treasured bread baking books. So effortless, yet such sublime breads. 
Sourdough bread baking has been this distant, unreachable "mystery" to me for many years. I LOVE sourdough bread. (I usually return from the store with a loaf or two.) It is the one indulgence I cannot live without. Well, and chocolate. Oh, and coffee. 
I found this book at a used book store, as well. I can't say enough wonderful things about this book. To be sure, it's not you're "five minute" bread baking book. However, if you want to explore The World "in breads", this is the book I'd start with. I've made several recipes from it. I took this to bed with me for several nights just so I could digest all of his bread baking wisdom. And then thought it time for me to put my big girl pants on and give sourdough a go via his direction. I am currently making: a Stiff Levain. If you are interested in the bread-head threads on such matters as "levains"--liquid or stiff, might I suggest The Fresh Loaf for your reading pleasure. (Seriously, I cannot tell you the number of times I have turned here for my bread curiosity.)
My first butternut squash. One of the only rays of sunshine in my garden at this moment in time. I'll not speak further of the garden OR our yard for now.
In the evenings my hands have been busy working on this new crochet throw for the living room. It's an easy-peasy pattern and is perfect for TV time. 
Looking back, this whole sourdough making experience was a lot easier than I had anticipated. Most of the work took place with me having to do nothing. Well, there were observations as there are with all experiments. But aside from that, it's a fairly hands-off sort of deal. 
So this is the closest thing to chocolate a girl like me could want. Perfect. Sourdough. Bread. Dr. Thyme was quite impressed--especially after all the hoo-haa over my little levain error and the tirade that accompanied it. For those interested, I used the recipe from Daniel Leader's book, Local Breads and his directions for baking Whole Wheat Sourdough Miche Inspired by Pain Poilane. 
Spectral bread. I don't know how this shot of the bread baking happened, but it really impressed husband and me both. We dubbed it "blog worthy".
Never try to tell a Pyr where to look. Or to sit. Or fetch. Or basically any command. They are their own beings and quite independent. (Some might say stubborn.) But that's why I love them so.
Our boy in the Field of Zinnias. It's not really a field per se, just a lucky corner of the now dead cucumber bed. I started the flowers from seed. How the chipmunks, rabbits AND squirrels missed them, I have no idea.
Never try to tell a lab/retriever/mix to pose for the camera either! Every single sound, movement, flash, critter, shake, slither--she hears it and points. Or tries to eat it. 
Whatever it was, it's gone now.