Slow-Roasted Juliet Tomatoes
If I’d gotten nothing more from Molly Wizenberg’s A Homemade Life, her recipe for Slow-Roasted Tomatoes with Coriander would have been enough. As a sun-dried tomato lover, I never thought oven-roasted tomatoes could possibly come close, but Molly has proven me happily wrong.
Molly’s recipe calls for Roma tomatoes, but I forego these supermarket familiars and wait instead for the arrival of the more petite Juliet variety at the farmers’ market. Juliet tomatoes, actually, are how my affection for slow-roasted tomatoes began in the first place.
Last summer, not too long after I’d finished reading A Homemade Life (and at that point, Slow-Roasted Tomatoes wasn’t on my list of recipes to try), I was at the farmers’ market on a Saturday morning, doing my usual weekly shopping. One stand boasted a plethora of beautiful tomatoes of various shapes and colors, some of which looked to me like miniature Romas. These particular fruits were the size of large cherry tomatoes, but oval-shaped like Romas, glowy red and plump with ripeness. A sign above them read, “Juliet tomatoes. Great for roasting.” I asked the farmer about them, and she heartily urged me to give them a try. Remembering A Homemade Life, I bought two quarts, figuring I had nothing to lose.
I took the Juliets home, washed them, and consulted Molly. Deviating from her recipe only by the addition of a little freshly ground black pepper, I halved the tomatoes, tossed them in olive oil, arranged them on a cookie sheet, and sprinkled on some coarse sea salt, ground coriander, and the pepper. Into a just-hot oven they went, and there they stayed for six hours. Every so often, I would peek through the oven window to see them slowly changing into something altogether different.
As you slow-roast a tomato, it shrivels up like a raisin, shrunken and wrinkled. Its flavor also intensifies distinctly, and it becomes something new – something full-bodied and aromatic.
When mine appeared to have shrunken as much as they were going to, I took them from the oven and set the pan aside to cool. The house immediately filled with the most lovely aroma. My mouth began to water. As soon as they were cool enough to touch, I took one from the pan, took a bite, and promptly fell in love.
I toss my slow-roasted Juliets into salad and pasta, chop them for a slow-roasted tomato bruschetta, puree them with basil, olive oil, and parmesan for a unique pesto, and even eat them solo, as they really require no further adornment. I’ve wondered about slow-roasted tomato hummus, but just haven’t gotten around to it yet.
Someday, in a pinch, I might give slow-roasted Romas a try, and by all means, if you can’t find Juliet tomatoes at your local market, you should rush out and by Romas instead. The key, I think, is to use tomatoes that have a low juice quotient. Anyway, don’t let the variety be something that stops you from trying these.
Slow-Roasted Juliet Tomatoes
2 quarts Juliet (or Roma) tomatoes
2-3 tablespoons cold-pressed olive oil
1/2 teaspoon coarse sea salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
Preheat the oven to 200 degrees. Wash the tomatoes, and cut in half lengthwise. Toss with the olive oil. Arrange cut side up on a cookie sheet. Mix together the salt, pepper, and coriander, and using your fingers to take a pinch at a time, sprinkle over the tomato halves. Roast for about six hours, until tomatoes are wrinkled and shrunken. Cool. Stored in a sealed container in the refrigerator, they will keep for up to two weeks.
