Last year, we grew tomatoes for the first time. And we did so with our characteristic enthusiasm, lack of knowledge and ignoring of instructions. So inside our raised bed we planted out radishes and beetroot, chard and kale, tender stem broccoli and Brussels sprouts — and one very busy row of tomatoes.
We didn’t let this lack of real estate hold us back, oh no. We really went to town with the tomato seedlings. Crammed ’em in. “You should pinch those out,” my father-in-law, a seasoned gardener, said more than once, with a hint of panic in his voice. We did not heed his advice. And that’s how last year, we ended up frantically googling “green tomato recipes” to cope with the absolute glut of unripened tomatoes that were falling off our unsupported, overcrowded, chaotic vines. We made green tomato chutney, green tomato marmalade and pickled green tomatoes like our lives depended on it.
This year, we have approached the whole thing with a little more pragmatism. Our seedlings are more sensibly spaced; we have pinched them out with the vigor we had previously reserved for planting them. So we actually have a sensible number of tomatoes growing, a number that might make it to ripeness. And I am determined to make the most of our haul, which means using them at their absolute peak.
An old-fashioned French-style tomato tart seems the perfect way to showcase the best of our harvest. It’s so obvious, such a celebration of the summer that it’s one of those dishes that feels like it must always have existed. It almost seems too simple: fat, ripe tomatoes are sliced thinly and sit on a crisp pastry base which is painted with a good layer of Dijon mustard. No custard mix; no need to blind bake. A scatter of herbs is the only compulsory garnish. But this means that those gorgeous roasted tomatoes really are the star of the show, with just that lick of mustard to bring the whole thing together.
Traditionally, these tarts can be made with puff pastry or a savory shortcrust. If you’re using ready-made pastry, I’d opt for puff, as shop-bought puff pastry tends to be better than the shortcrust (if possible, get the all-butter stuff). But if you’re making your own pastry, then I’d probably opt for a shortcrust, which is far simpler to make and handle. My recipe, however, leans into summer laziness, and uses a sheet of pre-made puff.
Whichever pastry base you plump for, there are a couple of ways to avoid the dreaded soggy bottom: cooking the tart at a high temperature really helps, as does salting the tomatoes before cooking to draw out excess moisture. Both the heat and the salting will also intensify the flavor of the tomato, bringing out its natural sweetness and depth.
The goat’s cheese is entirely optional: sometimes I add it, sometimes I don’t. Both ways are delicious: the simplicity of the tomato and fresh herbs is great, but the creamy tang of the goat’s cheese, caramelized under a high heat until it bubbles, is sometimes exactly what I fancy. Often, these tarts have a layer of grated hard cheese such as gruyère between the Dijon and tomatoes, which brings a richness and nuttiness.
Oh and feel free to use any herbs you particularly like in place of the fresh oregano — tarragon or thyme leaves are particularly good. Of course, this tart needs to be served with a classic French salad: a bowlful of soft green lettuce leaves, dressed with a simple vinaigrette made with olive oil, red wine vinegar, a pinch of salt and a teaspoon more of that Dijon mustard, all whisked or shaken together until emulsified.
- 1 sheet puff pastry (approx. 11 oz)
- 3 or 4 large ripe tomatoes
- 2 tbsp Dijon mustard
- A small handful of oregano
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 5¼ oz goat’s cheese, sliced into discs (optional)
- Press the puff pastry into a nine-inch pie tin, making sure it is flush at the edges and base. Refrigerate for 30 minutes
- While the pastry is chilling, cut the tomatoes into thin slices, place on a plate covered with kitchen paper, and sprinkle with salt. Leave for 15-20 minutes before dabbing away any moisture which has come out
- Preheat the oven to 390°F. Remove the chilled pastry from the fridge. Use a sharp knife to cut off any overhang. Prick the bottom of the pastry all over with a fork. Spread the Dijon mustard over the base of the pastry
- Lay the tomatoes evenly across the pastry. Drizzle the olive oil over the tomatoes. Add the sliced goat’s cheese, if using. Pull the oregano leaves from the stems and sprinkle across the tomatoes and cheese
- Bake for 30 minutes. Enjoy straight from the oven, or at room temperature
This article was originally published in The Spectator’s UK magazine. Subscribe to the World edition here.
