Summer's Erubescent Delights

Late evening walks, thundering mid-day monsoons, and crisp bright mornings signal the arrival of summer's peak. For us at the Tree House Pastry Shop and Café, one of the most anticipated joys of summer is the appearance of juicy, ripe tomatoes at the Santa Fe Farmers' Market. Tomatoes started showing up at the Market a number of weeks back, a few here and there. (And, truth be told, we may have obtained a few for our own "personal use.") But it wasn't until the end of July that these crimson jewels of summer started showing up in the kind of numbers that would affect our menu planning. As always, this summer's tomatoes have been worth the wait.

Tomatoes are the hot new item on our café menu. We're experimenting with thick-slicing them as the featured flavor on our basil and mozzarella sandwich, oven-roasting them for our savory tomato tart, and pureéing them in our fresh gazpacho. In whatever format, summer's tomatoes steal the show and, often, touch our hearts. Their succulent goodness reminds us of long-cherished meals shared with family and friends.

My husband grew up in the metropolitan Midwest. Not exactly a "farm boy," the summers of his childhood were spent in the concrete confines of the neighborhood pool or riding his bicycle through the streets of the city. Nonetheless, his early memories of summer include learning to eat thick tomato slices—straight from his mother's garden—with a pinch of salt while sitting on the family's porch swing.

My own tomato memories are twofold. I remember, as a child, working in the kitchen beside my tía Laura in her tiny Mexico City kitchen where, from the simplest ingredients, she concocted incredible salsas and móles; the smell and taste of which I can remember to this day. Later, as a teenager, I spent a year in Caserta, in the Campania region of Southern Italy, which is often acknowledged as the birthplace of pizza. There, tomatoes were as ubiquitous as in the central Mexico of my childhood, and though the number of cultivars is not as great as in Mexico, the tomato has, nontheless, inspired a renowned cuisine.

Now that tomatoes have been cropping up on our menu, I imagine that one day Edan, my four-year-old son, will have fond tomato memories of his own inspired by Tree House Pastry Shop and Café. I hope you will too.

Buen Provecho,
Maria