This is (and isn't) Etegami

Etegami means "picture letter" in Japanese and it's a charming way to send thoughts and well-wishes to friends and family. It takes very little to get started: paper, ink, watercolor, a brush or two. There are a few rules of course, but deviate from those traditional confines a little (or a lot!) and you've still got something you can proudly call "mail-art" which you can use to connect with somebody you know. And really, who wouldn't love to get something nice in the mail for a change?

At its most basic, Etegami is a handmade postcard featuring: a seasonal object outlined with a brush and black ink on absorbent paper, a few strokes of watercolor paint inside that outline, a meaningful quote/verse/thought that relates to the image, followed by a signature (hanko or chop)... and then mailed. That last bit is crucial. It must be mailed or it is not etegami. Follow-through is an integral part of the process!

What I love the most about etegami is that anybody can do it: young, old, artistically inclined or not. It doesn't have to be good... in fact, shaky, clumsy, awkward lines and dabs are not only preferred, but built-in (and frankly, guaranteed) by the way you're supposed to hold your brushes! This is an art form created for loosening up, being in the moment, and for genuinely connecting with each other.

The tomato etegami above, ticks many of the boxes for a "real" etegami, but not all. For one thing, I did not use the proper paper. Because Japanese etegami paper tends to be scarce (and/or pricey) state-side, I used what I had, which was watercolor paper. Other than that, the subject was seasonal and in front of me, the sentiment related to the both the recipient and the subject, and there were no shadows or backgrounds to clutter it up.

That was my very first etegami* and was sent to a family member who was going to be visiting us a couple of years ago. At that time, like now, our beefsteak tomatoes had just started to turn red, and their peak would coincide with the arrival of our visitor. The double meaning of the sentiment I chose is very much in keeping with the etegami spirit (playfulness is encouraged!) 

If you want to learn more about etegami, you can find an incredible wealth of generous and fascinating information at the blog: DosankoDebbie's Etegami Notebook.  Side Note: I have spent an embarrassing amount of time on her blog over the years, it's just such a wonderful and inspiring place to wander around in.

 

Etegami is one of those things that is paradoxically simple and complex. So, while there is plenty of enjoyment for everybody to wade around in, there are also many layers of nuance to uncover should you wish to dive deeper into it.

 

Though still not very widespread outside of Japan, Etegami is so charming and enjoyable, it is definitely deserving of a wider appreciation and participation. And don't fret about the supplies or the rules... it's more important to use what you've got and get them mailed out.

 

Another nice thing: postcard stamps cost a lot less than letter-rate postage! So now that there's nothing to stop you... Go make somebody's day!

Clumsily yours,

 Steph

*My first clumsy attempt. But remember: Etegami embraces clumsiness! Call it "anti-perfectionism" if you will. It's not about how good it is! It's real, it's immediate, and most importantly: it shows a human/personal heart and hand.

End-Of-Season Misfit Cherry Tomato Paste

Well, it's over. For us anyway. Tomato season is officially done. We plucked the last hangers-on off, and there won't be any more until next summer. Do you still have tomatoes where you live? Some years have found us picking them into November, but that was an exceptional year in a backyard that got oodles of sunlight. This was not such a year, and this is not such a yard. Alas.

Waste not... want not

As you may have noticed by now, I hate to waste any bounty and am always looking for ways to make the most of what we have. These last-of-the-season cherry tomatoes were in all different states of being. Some were perfection, some on the green side, and a few so ripe they practically imploded on contact. There were also those that looked ripe but had taken so long to get color that they just didn't taste as good as they should have.

You can leave the skins on
I figured the best thing for this to-motley crew was to make a tomato paste. But with all the stuff I've got going on right now, I just didn't want to drag out the food mill. Did I really need to get rid of the skins? (That's another theme around here: I don't peel or skin fruits and vegetables unless I absolutely have to.)

It's not laziness, it's efficiency!
I'm all about saving unnecessary steps, time, and energy, with one condition... the end result can not be lacking in any way. In fact, the end result should be at least as good as the version that it's riffing. OK, so maybe it doesn't always happen that way, but that's what I shoot for. This golden tomato paste (from Sun Gold tomatoes) is the very essence of ripe homegrown tomatoes. It's like all of summer condensed down into a little jar (and it's going to taste grand this winter in stews and pasta sauces)!


The Lazy Girl's End-Of-Season Misfit Cherry Tomato Paste
There is a tinge of bitterness from the skins, but it can be tempered with a bit of sea salt and/or sugar. I'm betting though that when used in a hearty stew or ragout... it will won't be an issue.

Ingredients...

Cherry Tomatoes: enough to cover the bottom of a baking sheet in a single layer
Olive Oil
Salt & Black Pepper
Fresh Herbs: basil, oregano, or thyme, roughly chopped (Don't bother chopping the thyme, just strip the leaves from the stem.)
Sugar (Optional, and possibly not needed depending on the tomatoes of course)

Directions...

1. Wash, stem, and dry the tomatoes. Fill the pans with a single layer of them. Turn the oven to 300°F.
2. Drizzle a little olive oil over the tomatoes. Grab the baking sheet in two hands and shimmy the tomatoes back and forth in the oil. Then sprinkle some sea salt over the tomatoes, followed by the black pepper.
3. Roast for two hours, rotating the tray(s) half-way through. If the tomatoes start to get too dark, push them around on the tray and turn your oven down a bit. If after two hours, they don't seem done (kissed with golden brown, squishy and collapsed), leave them in until they do.
4. Take trays out of oven and let cool briefly, then transfer roasted tomatoes to the bowl of a food processor. You may have to process them in batches, but it will go fast. Pulse until skins are cut up quite small.
5. Look at the texture: does it look dry-ish and too pasty? If so add a little more oil and pulse it in until it's more of a glossy-creamy consistency. Now taste it. Does it need more salt? More pepper? What about a touch of sugar? Always add in small increments. Keep tasting until you're happy with it.
6. Toss any herbs you want to use (if any) into the food processor with the tomato paste and pulse briefly to distribute them throughout.
7. You're done! Let it cool completely, then transfer to freezer containers, label, and freeze.

Notes: This yields anywhere from 1 to 2 cups of finished tomato paste. Freeze it in quantities that you are likely to use when cooking: half-pint canning jars, smaller plastic freezer-safe containers, even ice cube trays. 

More Notes: The first batch I made got some thyme added in at the end, and I used my stick blender. It took longer to get the skins broken up enough that way, but it's a good option if you don't have a food processor. The next two trays went into the food processor and had fresh chopped basil and oregano added.

Shine on, harvest moon!

Farm Fresh Harvest Pasta Sauce

Just days before our trip, while I was in fact hip deep in Concord grapes, cherry tomatoes, and other fresh produce that wouldn't wait for our return, we stopped to chat with a neighbor while on a walk through the neighborhood....

This neighbor, who has a small farm, was busy that day harvesting everything she possibly could before they moved. They were being forced out, not by a giant food conglomerate, and not by the government policies that hobble small farms. No, it was the simple act of their rent being raised to the point where they could no longer afford to remain. It's a sweet little farm with a tidy little house to one side with contented cows, happy pigs, and chatty chickens wandering about. The kind of sweet little farm that could only exist because of the hard work and commitment of two conscientious and genuinely nice people.

She asked if we'd like some tomatoes
Well, we couldn't say no. Who can say no to homegrown tomatoes? We may have had a truckload of cherry tomatoes this summer, but it's a little hard to make a BLT with tomatoes the size of marbles. So we finished our walk and Hubby went back over with a bowl. What he returned with were the most glorious Roma tomatoes I'd ever seen. There were a couple of big heirloom beauties also, and an onion that left me speechless, it was so fat and healthy looking.

Freezer Jam Of The Golden Sun

Forget the moonbeams and butterflies, or catching falling stars that will fit in your pocket... that's just the stuff of sappy love songs. You can however, catch the summer sunshine and keep it in a jar. At least that's what this jam tastes like to me. Tomato sunshine.

Picture yourself in the middle of winter... it's cold, it's wet, the weather is miserable. You take a jar out of the freezer to thaw. You toast some rustic bread until it's crisp and golden, add some good flavorful cheese—maybe an aged cheddar or smoked Gouda—then pry off the lid of the jam jar and dollop this golden orange stuff over the top. You're transported. You suddenly remember the smell of your hands after picking tomatoes last August. You get a flashback of a warm ripe tomato bursting sweet in your mouth and forever defining the word "summer". It could happen. In fact, I'm planning on it.

Harvest Gold
I've got Sungold cherry tomatoes practically coming out of my ears right now, and while I love them, I know this gloriousness won't last much longer. So I'm "saving for a rainy day" the only way I can right now and capturing the very essence of summer sunshine in a jar for later. 

When I read this recipe, I just knew it would be amazing made with our Sungold cherry tomatoes. Some of them are so sweet, they stop tasting like tomatoes at all and say with assurance, "You see, we really ARE a fruit!". I made one batch at first just to try it out. I filled two half-pint jars, lidded them, labeled them, and stuck them in the freezer. With the bit that was left over, I dolloped it over toast with brie. Two or three times. The creamy pungency of the brie with the sweet, earthy tomato jam... my, oh my... oh my.

Sungold {Cherry Tomato} Freezer Jam

adapted from: The Vanilla Bean Blog

4 cups Sungold cherry tomatoes
1-1/4 cups sugar
a pinch of sea salt

1. Wash the tomatoes and cut them in half.
2. Put them in a heavy pot with the rest of the ingredients.
3. Bring mixture to a boil then drop the heat down to a simmer.
4. Cook the jam until thickened, 60-90 minutes, stirring frequently.
5. Jam is done when you can swipe a finger across the back of your spoon and the path remains.
6. Blend briefly with an immersion blender if you'd like a smoother texture.
7. Let cool and transfer to jars.
8. Refrigerate for up to two weeks, or freeze for 6 months.

Yield: 2 to 3 cups.

Notes: Flavor is the name of the game here, so obviously you'll want to use only homegrown or farmer's market cherry tomatoes. This recipe doubles well. My first (single) batch made just over 2 cups. The next time I made it, I doubled the recipe and got just over 5 cups. Can't wait to try this on a grilled cheese sandwich, panini, cheeseburger... hmm, what else?

The State Of My Tomatoes (2012)

It's time for my annual "state-of-the-tomato address". Actually, I don't remember if I did this last year or not. I do know that I've talked about my love of homegrown tomatoes before, and that has not changed. If anything, that love just grows deeper with each passing year.

Now, while I can't imagine that anyone else could be all that interested in how our plants are doing, at the very least you can learn from our mistakes and do better in your own garden or patio. And let me tell you, we made a couple of doozies this year!

New this year:

• All tomato growing has been shifted to the front yard. If you want tomatoes, you must plant where the sun is. And we want tomatoes.
• Hubby built a two-tiered raised planter to one side of the driveway near the street. The lower tier was planted with basil, the upper, home to two tomatoes with a row of chives in front of them.
• We rigged up a shepherd's hook in the top tier of the planter to hang one of those upside-down hanging planter-thingies as seen on...

What we planted and how they're doing:

• Black Krim (in half-barrel)... We got a half-dozen that ripened a couple weeks ago. The rest are still green and quite small. Growth has slowed.
• Cosmonaut Volkov (in ground)... Topped out at around 8-feet and set large fruit like crazy. A few weeks ago the top started withering and dying back. When we checked the ripest fruits last week, they were soft though not yet red. We picked them and they were a mushy and the flavor was lacking.
• Lemon Boy (in raised planter)... After a slow start, grew vigorously and set lots of fruit. We discovered blossom-end rot on half a dozen of the fruits last week and a few more this week.
• Sungold (in raised planter)... What can I say that I haven't said before about this flavorful and amazing tomato? The shrub is absolutely huge and completely covered in clusters of cherry tomatoes on the verge of inundation... same as always.
• Black Prince (in hanging contraption)... This one was a last minute addition. Is growing pretty well and has some fruit set but so far doesn't look like a big producer.

Total Concentration

We were blessed this summer/fall with an abundant crop of tomatoes. I am talking about major abbondanza. Some of the shrubs didn't do very well or produce much, but the ones that did... did so with sheer abandon. Not only did we have enough to stuff ourselves silly with, but we had enough to bless friends and neighbors with too. Such a great feeling. But all good things come to an end as they say, sunshine and tomatoes included. So I reduced, concentrated, and intensified the last 5 lbs of sun and warmth... and stuck them in a little jar for when the cold, wet, gray of the coming winter starts to get me down. Just like rainy days and Mondays. 

Eating Paste

It may seem an odd choice, to make what is essentially a small amount of tomato paste out of the last of our homegrown tomatoes, but to call this stuff "paste" is to call filet mignon "a steak", or aged balsamic "vinegar"... doesn't quite do it justice. No tomato paste I've ever had has the depth and intensity of flavor that this stuff has. So is it tomato paste? Yeah... but it's really really really good tomato paste. And won't it be wonderful to use in the middle of winter when flavorful ripe tomatoes are the stuff of summer dreams and memories.

The Garden Wars Of Aught-Eleven

I speak primarily of the big one: the Aphid War of 2011. Then there was the White-Fly Skirmish of the same year. And though it pains me to bring it up, I won't soon forget the Great Snail Ambush... we lost a lot of good basil in that one. They caught us unprepared there. It won't happen again.

Pest Control to Maj. Tom
The Aphids though, they were a tough bunch. As challenging an adversary as I'd ever come up against. But I persevered. I stood my ground and cried out "Remember the basil!" as I doused the tomatoes with soap spray. Over and over... day after day. In the end, I was victorious and the tomatoes were safe. I just hope the little creeps didn't send for reinforcements.

Gardening isn't usually all that serious around here... except when it comes to tomatoes*. And after last year's utterly dismal display of tomato productivity, I am fiercely protective over what is shaping up to be a bountifully good year for my favorite summer fruit.** That's right, fiercely. It has brought out my inner-Rambo.

Summer's Last Hurrah

Next summer, when we have more tomatoes than we'll know what to do with*... I'll know exactly what to do with them. I will make this tart. I will make this tart over and over and over, all summer long... and we will never tire of it. It's that good. There is so much going on in this tart I can't even begin to describe it. So I won't. I'll just let the ingredients speak for themselves: some homegrown tomatoes, fresh herbs, a smear of homemade mustard, a drizzle of olive oil, tangy goat cheese, a touch of honey... all caramelized, concentrated, cozy and warm, and in the loving arms of a crisp pastry shell.

I rolled the pastry dough out quite thin so I could make two tarts and use up all the tomatoes we had picked. We'll still get more tomatoes over the next few weeks, but not in this quantity. This was summer's last hurrah. Here, baked together in a tart shell, were our Sungold, Early Girl, Juliette, and Sun Kiss, snuggled up cheek-to-cheek.*

Tomatoes On My Mind

Our five tomato plants have taunted us with a total of 7 little ripe tomatoes last month and then nothing since. They were freaks. Delicious freaks. Cruel, that these few ripened so much earlier than the others. I know more are on their way, I can see them, a multitude of green and gold marbles hanging in clusters. The lesson is patience and the trick is to just keep my eye on the prize. That doesn't mean I'm camped-out in the back yard or installing a tomato-cam in the garden; but focussed on what I know in my heart to be true: that in just a few short weeks, we'll be swimming in tomatoes.

In preparation for that glorious time of year, I've compiled some links to a few tomato-rific treats and tidbits... you know, in case shoving them in our face as fast as we pick them gets too tiring... It could happen.

• 30 Days Of Ripe Tomatoes at the LATimes. I could probably just stop right here.
• Here's a suggestion for wine to pair with all those ripe tomatoes at Good Wine Under $20.
• Fantastically interesting article by Harold McGee in the NY Times about cooking with tomato leaves... yes, the leaves! Read it! 
• This easy French Tomato Tart from David Lebovitz will be one of the first things I make (but I'll have to call it Domestic Tomato Tart since I don't have any French Tomatoes).* 
• After the tart I want to try this Spiced Tomato Gratin at 101 Cookbooks, chock full of amazing summer flavors. 

* That's a joke... admittedly a bad one, but a joke nonetheless.

Linguine With Raw Sauce

I first came across this recipe for pasta with raw sauce last summer while looking for tomato recipes in anticipation of our bountiful crop of heirloom beauties. The idea of an uncooked "sauce" was a revelation to me. I had to try it. After all, who wants to babysit a big pot of marinara in the middle of summer? I know I don't. This turned out to be so fresh tasting and easy to put together. Perfect for a summer meal and just the thing to highlight the flavor of our homegrown tomatoes.

I only had a chance to make this a few times though; we moved a couple of months later. It just killed me that it was right at the height of tomato season. We picked whatever was ripe at the time and gave the plants to friends. Our new home doesn't have room or sun enough for tomato growing on the scale we had at the old place. It makes me kind of sad to see the photos of our old garden again. I miss it. Don't get me wrong, the house was a slum and we're grateful to be away from there. The garden however... was an oasis.

Linguine With Raw Sauce 
Adapted from: this recipe at seriouseats.com

Serves: 4

1 lb linguine
10-12 small tomatoes, or 5-6 large ones
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbsp fresh basil, chopped
Enough olive oil to cover
6 ounces fresh mozzarella, grated or diced
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Bring a small pot of water to a boil and blanch the tomatoes for 30 seconds. Remove tomatoes, drain and let cool slightly. Slit the skins with a sharp knife and peel them off. Cut the tomatoes in half and squeeze out the pulp and seeds. Chop the tomatoes into a coarse dice.

2. In a large bowl, mix together the chopped tomatoes, basil, garlic, and olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste. Let mixture stand and marinate for an hour (longer if possible).

3. Cook the pasta until al dente in salted water. Drain, then add the cooked pasta to the tomato mixture and toss. Add the mozzarella and toss again. Serve immediately.

My Notes (7/18/08): Added lots more tomatoes (cherry toms didn't work well, too labor intensive) and marinated them for well over an hour. 1 clove of garlic was MORE than plenty! Yowza. Added lots more of our own fresh basil and more black pepper. Cut up half a container of mini mozzarella balls (happened to have them in the fridge). Next time use the whole container of mini mozzarella balls or just get a regular mozzarella ball. A cheap Zin from Trader Joe's (don't remember which) went pretty well with it. The Hubs snarfed it down and even had seconds... said it "was o.k." when asked to comment.