By Frances Boswell
Photographs by Jim Henkens

Rare is the grocery store that does not stock tomatoes. In fact, the inventory is often splendid. Beefsteak and cherry are ubiquitous. Cocktail, Campari, Sugar Bomb and vine-ripened are pretty much standard fare. And even heirlooms, which always appear to me like wedding china—too precious for everyday use, symbolic of both hope and aspiration—can be found year-round. Beyond the produce aisle, strategically located between Global and Pasta (so to bridge the gap between the exotic and the mundane) one finds still more: canned, jarred, boxed, and even tubed. These can be further classified as whole, peeled, whole peeled, fire roasted, fire roasted with garlic and basil, chopped, diced, crushed, and pureed. Insider’s tips: Purchase the whole tomatoes, as other forms can be fashioned from these, a truth that does not work the other way around. Also, get 14-ounce cans instead of 28, as it is easier to double than it is to half.

Truth be told, most of the year I am satisfied with the options, all of which can be doctored up in ways that yield something between serviceable and delicious. Think shakshuka, Bolognese, or sambar. Then—just in time for my birthday (late August FYSA)—comes the season that separates this beloved fruit from the veg!

For the best tomatoes, not only must the stars align, but the sun and soil too. The earth needs to be alive, nourished with compost and welcoming to worms. The varieties (be they garden or heirloom) have to be first and foremost for culinary use rather than commercial endeavors. There is staking and pruning to be done in order to foster good air circulation, reduce disease, and prevent pest infestation. One needs a hot and dry summer to concentrate the tomato’s flavor. Yet there has to be enough rain for the plants to flourish—excessive amounts at best dilute flavor and at worst cause the fruit to split and rot. Floods wipe out crops in seconds flat. The wise farmer plants a succession of crops and many varieties to spread out the harvest and mitigate risk.

Tomato growing is an angsty business, subject to forces that have one knocking wood from summer’s beginning to end. From a culinary perspective however, the perfectly ripe fruit of a farmer’s labor is all about easy living. Dinner suddenly might require no cooking at all. It is hard to improve upon—impossible maybe—a salad of sliced tomatoes (a mix of sizes and types is fun but hardly necessary), drizzled with a good olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt, and left until the juices mingle in the heat of the sun. For a slight variation on a theme (or to feed a crowd) one can toss this concoction with pasta, spoon it over toasted sourdough, top it with soft cheese, or augment it with tinned fish, perhaps a boiled egg.

As the tomato harvest progresses, there are divine ways to keep pace with the bounty, from pitchers of gazpacho to Ball jars full of sauce. As mentioned, tomato season does in fact line up just about perfectly with my birthday. I would be hard pressed to think of a celebration that did not include tomatoes in one form or another. Tomatoes and corn. Tomatoes with homemade mayo, sprinkled with pickled coriander seeds. Tomato pie that a friend brought to a potluck. Once, when the local harvest was lousy, I splashed out on a jar of estratto, the Sicilian tomato paste that can be eaten with a spoon. There was the year that I had a BLT for lunch and the same for dessert. Thinking about this year, perhaps I get fancy: a tomato galette with a whole wheat pastry mixed with some rye. And some decadent burrata—like a dollop of cream—served on the side.

Birthday Tomato Galette

Makes one 10-inch galette

Whole Wheat and Rye Pastry
I like to add a little sourdough starter to my pastry. I love the tangy flavor. It is not necessary; simply omit and add a tad bit more ice water

1¼ cups whole wheat flour
½ cup rye flour
½ teaspoon kosher salt
10 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces, chilled
6 tablespoons ice water
2 tablespoons ripe sourdough starter, optional

Combine flours and salt in a food processor and pulse to combine. Add butter and pulse a few times until the mixture resembles a gritty sand. Whisk together ice water and sourdough starter (if using) and add with the machine running. Process for 15 to 30 seconds. Squeeze a small handful of dough; if the mixture appears too dry add an additional splash of ice water and pulse to incorporate. Turn dough out onto a large sheet of parchment, and shape into a flat round disk. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to two days.

Oven Roasted Tomatoes

1¼ cups whole wheat flour
½ cup rye flour
½ teaspoon kosher salt
10 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces, chilled
6 tablespoons ice water
2 tablespoons ripe sourdough starter, optional
2½ pounds mixed cherry and medium slicing tomatoes
1½ tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for serving
½ teaspoon flaky sea salt, plus more for serving
A few cracks black pepper
A few sprigs fresh thyme
1 ball burrata
A few sprigs basil

Preheat the oven to 250 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Slice cherry tomatoes in half and place them with their cut sides up in a single layer on the baking sheet. Slice medium tomatoes into thirds and add to baking sheet. It is fine if slices bump up against one another. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast the tomatoes until they’re shriveled and browned around the edges, about 3 hours. Turn off the oven and keep tomatoes in the oven overnight so they coast to perfection.

Let dough stand at room temperature for a few minutes to soften. Dust dough, rolling pin, and marble slab with flour. Roll dough into a circle about 12 inches in diameter and 3/8 of an inch thick. Brush away excess flour. Transfer to parchment paper and set on a baking sheet. Chill until firm, about 15 minutes. Heat oven to 400. Arrange tomato slices over pastry, leaving about a 2-inch border of pastry. Place thyme sprigs on top. Gently fold up the edge of the dough to cover tomatoes, pressing down to form a rustic pleated edge. Bake 15 minutes, until pastry is golden brown; reduce temperature to 350 and cook an additional 25 minutes until pastry is cooked through. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly. Scatter basil on top and serve with burrata drizzled with a bit of olive oil and sprinkle of salt.