If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know that I’ve been in New Jersey for the past 10 days dog sitting for my parents. It’s been a nice, peaceful break from Brooklyn. Ben was with me for the first four days of my trip, but since he’s been gone I’ve been spending most of my days alone with the dog. I’ve gone for walks in the woods, I’ve made myself dinner, and I’ve taken exactly two luxurious baths in my mother’s glorious clawfoot tub. Before he left, Ben remarked that this had been the best vacation he’d been on in a while, and it wasn’t even technically a vacation.
The break has been nice to get out of my own head. The only issue? I don’t have a ton to write about today. I was going to churn over why I think I want to move out here, and why Ben and I may be seeking the slowness of a “country” life over the frenetic energy of the city. But that’s not fully baked. Then I was thinking about touching on living in the moment, and how I’ve developed that ability more as I’ve gotten older. But I’d like to think on that a little more, too.
So instead I’m going to take the dog for a walk. I’m going to come home and make myself coffee. I’m going to enjoy the bliss of not being in my own brain with my thoughts churning about. It’s been lovely to live in this space for the past few months, even if it means I sometimes don’t have anything to write about.
Our society makes us believe we need to constantly be producing in order to be productive. I’m not 100% sure I believe in that anymore, which makes writing a weekly newsletter difficult. Sometimes you just don’t have any threads to weave together. That's fine. Some weeks I’ll have a ton to write about. Others I won’t. That’s totally fine. And even just admitting that to myself feels like growth, because in the past I would have attempted to push myself to be creative. Now, I’m accepting the rest when my brain says it needs it.
This week’s recipe is also a bit of a resting point, because it’s really just a half recipe. Before my mother and father left for their vacation, my mother left me a big bowl of green tomatoes. They were the last of her harvest, and she told me that if any of them ripened, I should roast them the way she usually does.
Well, more than half the bowl turned red, so on a chilly night when Ben was still here, I made a little tomato confit and served it with a big bowl of burrata. It was glorious, and simple, and so easy to do. It’s a little break from cooking that still feels like it has a huge payoff. I hope you enjoy the rest. I’ll be enjoying mine.
Here’s what’s cooking
Late-Season Tomato Confit
INGREDIENTS
Assorted ripe tomatoes
1 head of garlic
Olive oil
Salt + pepper
Herbs, like rosemary or basil (optional)
Burrata
INSTRUCTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Slice your tomatoes until they’re about the same size. Peel your garlic, keeping the cloves intact.
Place your tomatoes in an oven-save dish big enough for them to lay in an even layer. Add in enough olive oil so that tomatoes are mostly submerged. Season with salt and pepper and mix well.
Tuck your garlic cloves around the tomatoes so that they’re submerged in the garlic. Sprinkle your herbs, if adding.
Roast your tomatoes in the oven for about a half hour, or until the tomatoes are cooked and the oil is bubbling.
Place your burrata in a shallow bowl. Scoop the tomatoes over and around the burrata, and drizzle some of the olive oil over the cheese. Serve with break for dunking.
NOTES
You can also use this confit as the easiest pasta sauce on the planet. Just add your cooked pasta to the oil and tomato roast, and add a splash of the reserved pasta water. Stir until glossy.
Make sure to save any leftover oil you have, as it is delicious. Use it to dress a salad, start some eggs, or just dunk some bread into.