Here Comes the Night - Slow Roast Tomatoes

In celebration of the birth of this blog, I'm starting our first post half way through the recipe I plan to post. I figure it's in keeping with my cooking style – a little shambolic, a lot make-it-up-as-I-go-along, and plenty of learning-by-doing.

Firstly, your young ladies of means would like to thank Chris Thorpe for designing this lovely place.

And now, my first attempt at slow roasting tomatoes.

It's the height of summer in the Capitol, and after a trip to the markets this morning and a picnic on the lawns of Old Parliament House I'm left with the urge to cook, but not to eat.

A full belly and a face full of sunburn attest to a terrific lazy afternoon in the sun, celebrating a friend's birthday with cucumber sandwiches, mini frittatas, scones, and plenty of champagne. The mini frittatas will be the subject of a future post, but for now it's all about tomatoes.

Stripy or Russian, green, yellow or red, possibly demonic, a member of the deadly nightshade family, and perhaps introduced to Italy by two catholic priests sometime in the 16th century. And my, my, haven't they done wonders with it since.

My plan for the three kilos I bought super cheap at my local markets is slow roasting, and subsequently, pizza, pasta and lasagna. Tonight, I'm hoping I can stand the heat of the oven until the night hits and I can open the house up.

What You Will Need:

olive oil
black pepper
salt (rock or sea, fresh ground is best)
about 2 teaspoons crushed fennel seeds
1 – 2 tablespoons dried Italian herbs
about 15 – 20 tomatoes

What You Will Need to Do:

Preheat your oven to 140 degrees celsius

Oil a large baking tray (shallow is fine – mine was about as wide as my oven, and fit 30 tomato halves)

Sprinkle the oiled tray liberally with fresh cracked black pepper and salt, and most of the Italian herbs and crushed fennel

Cut tomatoes in half , and place face down on oiled tray, rub the outside with a little extra oil, and chuck on some more s&p, herbs and fennel

Place in oven

Enjoy the smell of roasting tomatoes for roughly six hours, and then...

At this point (if you started at six in the evening like I did) it will be midnight, and your housemates will have gone to bed. Take the tomatoes out of the oven, and let cool. Slip the skins off (if you want, I didn't bother) and store in an airtight container in the fridge or freezer.

But before you do that last bit, put one half of a tomato on a piece of toast with some fresh ricotta, a dash of balsamic and a little more cracked pepper, stand near an open window and enjoy your very own home made slow roasted tomatoes (which go very well with a summer night breeze).

Listen to Here Comes the Night (Augie March, Sunset Studies)