If this meal could speak, it would have a sweet, seductive voice. It would be enticing, wise, and nurturing. The roasted tomatoes, the small, creamy garlic cloves, the smattering of cream cheese on a toasted and seeded bagel... oh my.
Yes, this meal could speak volumes, but I am stammering, struggling to find the right combination of words to describe my conversion, my naive venture into the magnificent world of the roasted tomato. People, I tell you, I had no idea. It's so simple. They're only tomatoes, after all! But good gracious, with the smallest effort, they became so much more!
Alex ate even more than I did. We pulled them off the sheet, like hot cookies. They are a savory dessert. Geoff came home, late, and the few that were left were his dinner. Suddenly, we no longer have a lot of tomatoes. Suddenly, I want to build another garden bed, just for tomatoes, a hot house for February fruit... we are this smitten.
Everyone, I've read some sad comments about drought, heat, withering gardens... I'm sorry. Last year our garden was a silly thing, and we had no more than five tomatoes, as late as August. Gardening, it's not for the weak, or faithless, is it? I send sincere wishes to all, for relief from heat, for gentle rain, and for at least one cookie sheet loaded with heirloom, garden tomatoes, seasoned as you like, and roasted to sweet, seductive goodness.