tomato, basil, and goat cheese galette

When I went to Italy, I knew that the food was going to be out of this world. That's part of the reason I chose to study abroad there. I've always loved Italian food; my dad has cooked with that flair ever since I can remember. So I knew I'd love it, and I knew I'd love the authenticity of it. But what I didn't expect was the simplicity of it all.

Most of the food, unless visiting a high-end ristorante, was just good. It was everything you'd think it to be- simple ingredients, no super complicated methods, no intentional confusion for the sake of impressing you. Just simple, well-cooked, well-cared-for food. Very straightforward. Very honest. Very unassuming. But where the Italians take pride is the quality of their ingredients. They only use what's in season, forming creative menus from the produce they can buy from the grocer across the street. Constantly you're wowed by freshly-made bread, juicy wine, and homemade cheese. Everything they do is homemade, except the pre-toasted bread slices that you can buy from any market, which I never could fully get into. But the noodles, the sauces, the meats, the olive oil… Oh, the olive oil. Nothing like it. I'm really having a hard time describing this to you. I think you probably should just go.

But all this to say, this galette was inspired by the Italian way. I was at work the other day when a customer gave us a palette of tomatoes at peak ripeness. We got to take some home, and I put mine in the refrigerator for a couple of days until I could figure out what to create with them. And for some reason, I just love galettes. They're like pies, but much easier, and part of me hates to fiddle with the trickiness of a pie. And they're fun, because most of the time when you tell people that you've made a galette, the response is, "A what?" And then you get to share something new.

A couple of weeks ago I made a cherry chocolate galette, but this time I chose to take the savory route. So I did what I know best, after doing some research. It was a rainy morning when I sliced the tomatoes and roasted them in the oven for a long two hours. I cut butter and cold olive oil into flour to mix a savory pie crust. I chopped basil into ribbons. I mashed garlic and cracked salt and pepper and heavily drizzled olive oil. And it all came together beautifully.

It's mid-August. It's the perfect time to use these flavors. The tomatoes are as ripe and red as can be and the basil is sweet and minty. Everything is in abundance and vegetables are basically begging us be create something new with them. So go on an adventure and rejoice at the bounty you get to eat. If you're tempted to be intimidated by a galette, don't succumb to it. When you're in the kitchen, everything is in your control, even if it all goes awry sometimes. Take your time, prep your ingredients, and be bold. Not everything is black and white.

And maybe turn on some Italian music and pretend that your window leads to a stone side street, from which you can hear the hustle and bustle and exclamations of small-town Italian folk, just emerging from their long afternoon nap. Imagine that the smells coming from your oven are wafting out into the street, mixing with the sweet cinnamon aromas from your neighbor and the scent of freshly-cut and boiled pasta from a local trattoria. You are one of many beautiful people, contributing to the creativity of your culture, embracing the things you know and the things you don't. Your face has wrinkles from smiles and laughter and your tongue is sharp like a knife when you taste red wine. You pass on beauty, you get to be the giver. You get to craft and laugh and pour and chop and hand down- more than just food.

And you do.

Roasted Tomato, Basil, and Goat Cheese Galette
Crust has been slightly adapted from FoodLovesWriting
For the galette:
- 5 roasted tomatoes, recipe below
- one whole wheat crust, recipe below
- 8 large basil leaves
- 1/4 cup crumbled goat cheese
- 3 cloves of garlic
- olive oil
- salt and pepper, to taste
For the roasted tomatoes:
- 5 medium-sized tomatoes, sliced into about 1/4" thick rounds
- olive oil
- salt and pepper, to taste
For the crust:
- 3/4 cup whole wheat flour
- 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 cup olive oil, refrigerated until mostly firm
- 1/4 cup butter (half a stick), cubed
- 1 Tbs yogurt
- 1/4 cup cold water

First things first, roast your tomatoes. Preheat your oven to 250 degrees. Slice the tomatoes into 1/4" thick slices, as said above. Place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper, all to taste. Roast the tomatoes for about 2 hours.

During this time, make the galette crust. Whisk together both flours and salt in a medium bowl. Add olive oil and butter and mix with a pastry cutter (or two knives) or in a food processor. I used two knives, but about 2 minutes in I got fed up and used my fingers, and all was well. Add your yogurt and cold water and mix until the dough comes together. Then, on a lightly floured counterop, roll it out into a large circle (mine was probably about 10 inches in diameter). Place on parchment paper on a baking sheet or pizza stone, which is what I used. Place in the refrigerator until the tomatoes are finished roasting.

When they are almost finished, chop your basil into ribbons and your garlic into a large mince. Remove the tomatoes from the oven and crank the temperature up to 400 degrees. Drizzle the dough with olive oil and spread all the way around.  Starting from the middle, place your tomatoes onto the dough, slightly overlapping each. After the first layer, sprinkle your garlic on top. Keep layering until you only have a few slices left, then add the goat cheese and most of the basil. Finish layering and add the rest of the basil, another generous drizzle of olive oil, and lots of salt and pepper.
Place in the oven and bake for about 45 minutes, or until the crust is golden brown and crispy.

Serve by itself or with a creamy, dijon-y balsamic vinaigrette, and relish the bounty of summer.

blueberry crisp, an ode to summer

I love the sound of the birds in the morning. I love light pouring in through huge windows and the ever-changing scatter of tree shadows that accompany it. I love the vibrancy of nature's colors and the sound of sticks crunching beneath my feet.

I love a strong morning coffee in a comfortable chair, taking in all the innocent sweetness of the breaking of the day. Truly, I love crunchy and clumpy granola soaked in almond milk. I love creamy oatmeal and whole grain waffles and morning glory muffins. I love the rustic, bready things, where you can see the seeds and berries and taste the song of your body intaking such wholesomeness. I love tables filled with all the colors of summer delights- corn, tomatoes, bowls of berries, green salads. And I love spending the entire evening outside, from full-fledged heat to stars in the sky.

On the 4th, Aaron and I went blueberry picking. We picked about 5 pounds of blueberries, eating and pelting them at each other along the way. What I love about blueberry picking is that you can simply park yourself under a single bush for 10 minutes or so, and you just pick and chat until all the good ones have been plopped into your bucket and you can't possibly reach anymore. During one of these picking parkings, I told Aaron that if the opportunity presented itself, I truly think I would be a farmer. I was recently discussing this with my sister- sometimes all we want to do is buy a farm together and spend the days working on the land and the nights feeding anyone and everyone around. 

hopper carrot cake

I think that we as humans simply crave art. We just long for it, in whatever form it holds. Perhaps it's poetry or photography, or trekking through the forest. It's the thing that connects us to the deeper parts of our souls, and to the Lord. The thing that brings us joy, rejuvenates us, calms our anxieties, and brings us to a place of peace and creativity.

I tend to think that it will always be the same thing for me- food, being in the kitchen, serving people. But that is not always true. Sometimes my artist needs to go beyond its traditional boundaries and step foot into other avenues. It all depends on what has been lacking lately, or the longings welling up inside me, or the situation I'm in. And sadly, it often comes to a breaking point before I actually remove myself from the fluff around me and engage in the art that my heart needs. But whenever I do, it is so beautiful, so calming, so worth not doing whatever the other demands were.

wine tasting and glory glimpsing

I want to sit at a table on a cool summer evening with people I love and people I barely know. I want to pass around plain white dishes, each brimming with something fresh, flavorful, and hearty. I want ice cold pitchers of lemony water to drip condensation as rings across the table cloth, and to pour countless cucumber-y Pimm's Cups for people, to sip and be merry. I want to tear crusty bread and dip it in fresh olive oil. For dessert it will be bowls of warm ricotta drizzled with honey, dotted with sweetened balsamic reduction, and decorated with plump blackberries. Thick, fruity red wine that hits the tip of your tongue like syrup. 

Long and slow, standing and sitting, music dancing among strings of lights tousled by chilly breezes. Not perfect, because it can't be, but perhaps the most pure and hopeful taste of that to come.