June 10 – June 16, 2024

Monday:                              Va Bene, Quebec City, Lower Town

Tuesday:                             Brunch – Buch, Quebec City, Upper Town

Wednesday:                      Grilled Pork Chops with Polenta and Corn Kernels

Thursday:                           Cape Cod Chopped Salad with Spiced Pork

Friday:                                Fox-Chapel Spice Shrimp over Polenta and Corn Kernels

Saturday:                          Corn, Tomato-Burrata Salad, Steamed Blue Crabs

Sunday:                              Flank Steak, Tomato-Cheddar Toasts, Cole Slaw

The Great Exchange

It is hard to imagine Italy without tomatoes, or Ireland without potatoes, or Switzerland without chocolate.  And America without apples or coffee or wheat or Florida orange juice seems equally empty.  And yet, in the not-so-distant past, there were no tomatoes in Italy or, indeed, in Europe, Asia, Africa or Australia.  And there were no potatoes in Ireland, nor was there a single chocolatier in Switzerland, Belgium or France.  Polenta was not part of Italian cuisine, because corn had not yet been introduced to Europe.  And not a single stalk of wheat grew on the great plains, nor could an Englishman smoke a pipe, because tobacco hadn’t been imported from America.

The Columbian Exchange – a vast intermingling of plants* between the New and the Old World began shortly after the Spanish got to Mexico.  And, as traditional and static as you may think the character and cuisine of a country are, that exchange changed everything within two generations. 

*Alas, there was an exchange of diseases as well – but let’s not mention that while we’re talking about dinner.

All of this is a long-winded way of saying that cooking with kimchi or mangoes or za’atar or the myriad foreign ingredients which our markets source from around the world is not a hoity-toity enterprise, but a down-to-earth practice that hungry humans have indulged in since the dawn of time.  It is frightening to imagine what food would be like if the Italians had eschewed the tomato as non-traditional, or if the Thais and Chinese had spurned peppers (introduced from the New World), or if the Indians of Mexico had discarded onions and garlic (imported from the Old World by the Spaniards):  No pasta pomodoro, no Sichuan beef, no pico de gallo, no chicken paprikash, and no – horrible to contemplate – Chicken Vindaloo.

But, back to those tomatoes, if you don’t mind.  The varieties of this wonderful fruit which you can find in vast quantities in our standard supermarkets are, on the whole, tasteless.  But this week’s recipe is a way to make even the least presentable tomatoes taste delicious, unless they are mealy or too watery, in which case you’re on your own.

If money is no object, simply buy the ‘heirloom’ tomatoes that many markets now sell.  They have taste in spades.  You’ll have to feel your way through the bin to a ripe one or one that looks like it might ripen on your windowsill in a few days.  [In Pittsburgh the sort of greenish-purple and the giant, mis-shapen red heirlooms are usually the best, though some of the yellow tomatoes are pretty solid as well.]

If you find a good, ripe heirloom – slice it, salt it, add a basil leaf or two, then boil some corn and grill a steak and you have a summer dinner fit for a king.  Or top it with some mozzarella or burrata, a few slivers of red onion and those basil leaves and you have food fit for an emperor.

If you’re dealing with the fairly tasteless but firm and ripe standard tomatoes, the recipe below will show you how to make them the star of your cuisine.  Again, I’d add corn, either lightly sautéed with a little shallot and a bit of pepper (either sweet or hot), or boiled on the cob, and protein of any kind from the grill – though steaks, burgers and hot dogs would be the quickest and most quintessentially American.  But then again, we’re talking about fusion here, so grill what your Taiwanese in-laws would like.

The key Is to slice and salt your tomatoes at least ten minutes or longer before serving them – salt brings out the umami in the tomato.  After that, by melting a little of the cheddar and mayonnaise mixture below on a piece of toasted country bread and topping that with a slice of tomato, you will have a wowzer of a summer appetizer that will stop your griping about modern tomatoes for a while.  [Note:  Using those heirloom tomatoes for this dish will make it immensely better, so I’d suggest a splurge.]

Tomato Cheddar Toasts (adapted from NYT, Ali Slagle)

Time:                                                                             11 minutes

Ingredients:                                       Serves 8 as an appetizer, 4 as a first course

Ripe tomatoes, sliced (enough to cover 4 pieces of crusty country bread)

4 slices crusty bread – Note:  Our local market does not offer a good, crusty bread, but they have a Jewish Rye that toasts to perfect crustiness.  It takes 8 slices of this to use the cheese mixture involved.

½ packed cup (about 2 oz.) finely grated extra sharp cheddar

Scant ½ cup mayonnaise

Prep:

Slice the tomatoes – the standard market variety thinly, the heirlooms, about medium thickness

Salt the tomatoes and don’t be stingy with the salt

Let the tomatoes sit for at least 10 minutes or up to an hour           

Meanwhile, stir the mayonnaise and cheddar together with a pinch of salt

Finish and Serve:

Toast the bread or grill it, but get it nicely browned.

Slather the hot toast with the cheese mixture, top with tomato slice(s) and serve.