tomaaaaahtoes (can you dig it?)

september means a lot of things in this world.  it means heading back to school.  it means the weather starting to turn.  it means the opening of football season.  it means something to do with a green day song.  and it means i think to myself, "bloody hell!!  i forgot to do any canning this summer!" 

now, i could tell you that my foray into canning arose from a vegetable garden so brimming with perfect produce that i had no other option but to pickle or jam it.  i COULD tell you that, but you would probably be able to smell the flames from miles away of my pants being completely and utterly on fire.  sadly, the only thing my vegetable garden is currently growing is irritation at being so very neglected these past few years.  were tracts of land capable of emotion, this small raised bed would be in therapy three times a week to work through issues of abandonment.  i blame the small people i live with, naturally.  when they are a titch older, and a higher percentage of them are off at school, i shall sow and weed and tend, whilst casually throwing around words like "tilth."  but until then, my beautiful produce comes from my local fruit market instead.  and that's okay.

i've experimented with a whole mish mash of different fruit and veg and techniques in the world of canning; some successful, some decidedly less so.  but the one thing that i can never get enough of and come back to year after year are these oven-roasted heirloom tomatoes.  true to form, they are delightfully non-faffy (are you starting to see a pattern with my cooking style??), but they taste as if the italian grandmother you never had spent days slaving over her wood-burning stove coaxing the sweetness and tangy goodness out of them one tomato at a time, all the while shouting "ciao, bella!" and "mario batali!" and such.  so do yourself a favour: make some of these tomatoes, for the sake of your future self.  then pull out a jar in the middle of winter when proper tomatoes are but a ghost of a memory, and serve with some crusty bread and a bottle of soulful red.  ahhhh, just like imaginary-nonna used to make.

oven-roasted heirloom tomatoes (adapted from grist.org)

Makes about 3 pint jars (or assorted different sizes)
10 pounds heirloom tomatoes (give or take.  regular tomatoes also work just as well)
1 head of garlic, cloves separated but not peeled
1 tablespoon of dried thyme
lots of extra virgin olive oil
2-3 teaspoons kosher or sea salt
fresh basil (just make sure you pronounce it bazz-ill)

red wine vinegar

line 2 sheet pans with parchment paper or foil. preheat your oven to 250 degrees F.

rinse your tomatoes, and slice them in half across their equator, or into quarters if they are particularly large (like the beasts i got my hands on this year). 

line them on the baking sheet in a single layer, seed side up. drizzle generously with olive oil. scatter the garlic cloves, thyme, and salt over the tomatoes.  (if you have a three-year-old dressed as a dragon inexplicably wearing a backpack to help you with this, all the better.)

place the tomatoes in the oven and roast for about 4-6 hours, until much of the tomato juices have evaporated, and the slices have shrunk to about half their original size.

let the tomatoes cool at room temperature, and carefully peel the cloves of roasted garlic.  transfer the tomatoes to your sterilised jars.  (i use different sizes to give me options down the road.  note to my friends: the size of the jar you receive directly correlates to how much i like you.)  alternate the tomatoes with some fresh basil and the cloves of roasted garlic.  leave about 1 inch of headspace at the top of each jar.

set a large pot of water to boil and sterilise your jars (see previous post for details).

add 1 teaspoon of red wine vinegar to each jar and top off with extra virgin olive oil, leaving a final 1/2-inch of head space. (the added vinegar increases the acidity of your tomatoes even further to prevent the growth of toxins or bacteria.)  top with sterilized lids.

place jars back into the pot of boiling water and process at a steady boil for 30 minutes.  carefully remove the jars and place on a clean towel to cool completely without disturbing.  once the wee buttons on the lids pop down, you're golden! 

store on a cool, dry shelf for up to 1 year.   (if you can make them last that long.)