The Best Tomato Salad EVER

When I was visiting my parents in Kentucky this weekend, they sent me home with three treasures, two of which are important for this post. (The other is Chocolate-Peanut Butter Crunch Candy, which--trust me--deserves a post of its very own.) They gave me a box full of fresh tomatoes, grown in friends' gardens, that they just couldn't eat. I'm reminded of Kingsolver's chapter, "Life in a Red State," about living in the South during August--tomato season. My students, by the way, are reading this chapter for November 4, Election Day--how great is that? Anyway, so we have a box of tomatoes sitting on our kitchen table and it really is like the chest of toys at the dentist's office when you were little--you knew that if you were good through the cleaning, if you swished and spit in that tiny whirlpool sink, you'd have a bright new plastic toy to take home with you. I make it through the morning, and I know I get a sweet tomato sandwich for lunch--the best use of Hellman's mayonnaise, hands down. I make it through the afternoon, and I get a tomato salad for dinner. Which leads me to the second treasure: Sally Schneider's A New Way to Cook. 

I've been eyeing this cookbook for several visits to my parents' house, and this time, my dad let me take it with me. Dan asked me the other day why I liked it so much. It's hard to explain. It's a beginner's cookbook that looks sophisticated without being fussy or difficult. It illustrates healthy ways to cook without being a diet cookbook--there's not a calorie count in sight. The dishes it describes are basically bistro fare at home--they are rustic dishes that allow the integrity of the fresh ingredients to take center stage. It reminds me of Kingsolver and Madison, without the dogma (though I use this term in its best possible sense). Even the autumnal color palette and the thick paper add to the satisfaction of thumbing through this book. It is minimalistic in every sense, and calms me just to hold it--is that silly? It's just peaceful, and makes anything seem possible. So when facing a box of beautiful fresh tomatoes in fear that I would not do them justice, I knew this was the best place to turn--and Sally did not disappoint.

Here's her recipe (though you hardly need one) for "The Best Tomato Salad." Really. That's the recipe title. Normally I'd find that pretentious or overly confident. Not here. She makes me trust her completely. If she says it's the best, it's the best. And it is.

Cut up a few tomatoes--thick slices, wedges, halves, whatever suits you and the tomato. Arrange them on a plate. No more than 20 minutes before serving, sprinkle them with salt and pepper. Right before you serve them, sprinkle with any fresh herbs you like--basil, cilantro, parsley, anything green and delicate. I will admit, though, that a little dried basil and oregano, which I used tonight, work fine, too. Drizzle with fruity extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and if you like, shave a few slices of parmesan over the top. And enjoy that the best part of summer comes at the end. 

Thanks to Kingsolver, tomatoes and southern politics will be forever connected. Makes election years a little more bearable, I suppose.

(I hope you enjoy the picture--I ate the salad to fast to photograph it, so I gave you a picture of me typing. Very meta.)