I submitted an entry into the Queen Anne Farmers Market Holy Tomato! Contest last week. The objective: showcase the glory of the tomato. The parameters? None. What would you do? What do you think I did? Apparently I’m predictable as all get out, in more ways than one, since everyone who saw my dish (who knows me or my blog) took one look at it and knew I created it. I guess that means I have a niche, but sometimes it’s a little frustrating to be pigeonholed, especially if it’s the same hole you’ve been pigeoning around in more or less your entire life. I’ve always been, how do I say this properly, fringe-y. The first award I ever won was “most shocking pumpkin” at a pumkin-carving school contest when I was seven. Apparently sticking two meat cleavers on either side of the jack-o-lantern face was shock-inducing. Imagine a kid bringing that pumpkin to school in this day and age- seems crazy now that they let me get away with it.

The next award came along in junior high (this is not counting all the statewide spelling bee’s I so nerdily won, mind you) when I was voted “snazziest dresser.” WTF did snazzy mean in the 1990’s, people? I’m sure it was for the time I made a pair of bellbottoms out of upholstery fabric I found at the Goodwill and then tied 20 bells around the cuffs of each leg. I got sent home because my outfit was “disruptive.” Then in high school I was voted “most likely to be on the cover of Rolling Stone.” I have no idea where that one came from considering I haven’t played an instrument since the cello in sixth grade, and even though I KNOW I can sing, I’ve been assured by everyone else who’s heard me that I can’t carry a tune nearly as well as I can carry a glass of vino to my lips repeatedly, which is apparently my true Olympic talent. It was around that time I realized my calling was Halloween costume contests. I’ve never met a Halloween contest I couldn’t win, and enjoyed much success in that realm, due, in large part, to the fact that I’ve never dolled myself up like a “ho” and blasphemed the holiday by using it as an excuse to look cheap and tawdry. Not that I haven’t gone nearly nude, it’s just usually in more of an intellectual, complicated sort of way, and there tends to be fire shooting out my nipples or something equally as startling.

All this is to illustrate the fact that I’ve been eternally shoved into the odd box and I can’t seem to get out, no matter how hard I try to do something that might compel the masses. I’m really not counterculture- I have friends who drive Range Rovers, live in Beverly Hills and Bellevue, have fake boobs and get botox injections. I’m sure I know a Republican or two, even. I guess I just have a place in life and I might as well make myself comfortable and kick up my heels. Which is why I should have known my tomato entry would win “most creative” before I ever thought up what I was going to make. I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining- I am thrilled to add a notch to my bedazzled, Gaga-fied, chartreuse, shiny dragonskin belt. I just sometimes wish the ideas that come into my head as perfectly normal things to do wouldn’t be met with comments like “that’s so original” or “how on earth did you ever think of that?” I don’t try to be “creative” “original” or “complex,” especially on the plate. I just try to combine classic flavors in ways that seem delicious to me.

Once again, I deconstructed the classic BLT sandwich and presented it in frozen format. I did this last fall and I was not 100% thrilled with the outcome, so I went back to the drawing board, changed the “bread” to a maple-pecan Pizzelle, tweaked the bacon ice cream (by adding lots of bourbon), substituted pea shoots instead of lettuce in the sorbet, and finally messed around with egginess and creaminess in the tomato gelato. I garnished the plate with a candied heirloom grape tomato sitting on top of a pea shoot and piece of homemade bacon. It was pretty. It was classic. It was delicious (if you don’t mind me saying so). But I guess it was also “creative.” I’m just one big self-fulfilling prophecy so I better get used to it. The thing is, who wants to eat “creative?” Wouldn’t you rather eat “fan-fucking-tastic?” It’s kind of like the adjective I use when someone asks my opinion on something and I don’t want to insult them- “that’s interesting.” Or something you’d say to a five-year-old who just made you an indiscernible fingerpainting. “Very creative, little Suzie.”

photo courtesy of Queen Anne Farmers Market

That being said, I was thrilled to have won the award, and the ultimate accolade came when the lone chef at the judges’ table took out his iPhone and snapped a few shots of my dish. I don’t know what he was thinking, exactly, but whatever it was must have been inspiring enough to want to remember, so that made me very happy. All three judges popped the candied tomatoes like crack, and luckily I had brought an extra plate of them so was able to share some candied tomatoes with the crowd. They are so easy, and make great additions to other canapés and appetizers. For example you can candy a tomato and set it on a basil leaf perched on a round of mozzarella, or if you’re feeling really decadent top a cracker with a candied tomato and a slice of seared foie gras. I will leave you with the candied tomato recipe, though if you’re really interested in one of the frozen component flavors, let me know and I’ll email you that as well.

Candied Tomatoes

Note: increase the sugar and water as necessary if you have more tomatoes, or if your pan is not a very small saucepan, as you want enough depth to the candy syrup to be able to easily dip your tomatoes and coat them.

• 1.5 c granulated sugar
• ½ c water
• 24 grape tomatoes with stems intact, washed, and thoroughly dried

1. Boil the sugar and water in a small saucepan stirring constantly until the syrup reaches 330° as measured by a candy thermometer. Remove from heat. Working quickly, use tongs to dip the tomatoes into the syrup by their stems. Place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet to harden. If you want to affix them to the surface on which they will eventually set, do so within fifteen minutes so they retain some tackiness, but not right away, as they’ll be too hot.

 

How many reinventions can the classic BLT sandwich undergo? This version, while not your typical rendition, certainly packs a punch in the department of deliciousness.  My new favorite thing is blind gelato tastings; it’s amazing the flavors people think they’re eating, and when you break down and tell them the actual taste, the look on their faces tends to be photo-worthy.   With the BLT redux I did everything I could to make it obvious what we were eating.  The hardest part was the bread.  I finally settled upon shortbread cookies cut into squares and dipped in chocolate around the edges so as to resemble crust.  The color of each flavor turned out remarkably akin to their natural-state counterparts, yes, the frozen BLT is something to behold. 

The inspiration for the frozen BLT is threefold.  I just finished curing and smoking my first-ever batch of homemade bacon, thanks to Michael Ruhlman.  When I think of him, I think of his BLT challenge, something I did not participate in mere months ago as I had still not come around to eating pork products at the time.  I’ve always viewed pork as the final frontier, having gone from a complete vegetarian to one who eats meat occasionally in the last few years.  Only recently did I get to the point where I included pork in the acceptable category, and when I embrace something, I like to do so wholeheartedly. 

I twittered about my homemade bacon, soliciting recommendations on the highest and best use for it, and the mastermind behind the beautiful blog Vegetable Matter suggested bacon gelato.  Leave it to a vegetarian to come up with a great use for meat!  One thing led to another and I soon found myself poring over David Lebovitz’ Perfect Scoop- the bible of frozen desserts.  He inspired me to go the maple bacon route, however I deviated quite a bit from his recipe, most notably using maple sugar as my sweetener which is soooo delightful I’m tempted to use it in all gelato hereto forth. 

My jumbled mind kept ruminating on all these thoughts and like a slot machine spinning its three wheels for a perfect jackpot, the BLT idea pinged to the forefront.  Initially I planned to make all three flavors into gelato, but I started pondering the quandary of the lettuce, and eventually decided because of the high water content, it would have to be a sorbet instead.  Since I went down that path, I started considering the weight of all my ingredients, and I think you’ll agree with me in considering bacon more appropriate for ice cream than gelato.  It is such a rich, deep flavor first off, so the creaminess of ice cream should hold up to it better.  It is also incredibly American, in that regard ice cream is apropos also.  The tomato has a gentleness that gelato is perfect for, and while cream might overwhelm it and bring it into the tomato soup realm, just water a la sorbet would be a touch too light for my sandwich style dessert. 

The hardest part for me is keeping my mouth shut during dinner when all I want to do is bust out dessert straightaway and gets everyone’s honest take on the wild new concoction of the week.  When the time finally came to serve it up, Jonas and I snuck away into the kitchen and plated away like mad elves.  I quickly brought out dessert, trying to have everyone taste at the same time so that no one could unduly influence another’s opinions with preconceptions.  The bacon was pretty easy to guess; I had cut my candied bacon strips into small chunks, but not so small that they were unrecognizable.  The tomato and lettuce proved completely unrecognizable.  People thought grass, pea, bean, even mint (!) for the lettuce, which I found highly interesting. 

I suggested that my guests start thinking about the plate as a whole, asking what the shortbread cookies resembled, urging them to go in the right direction.  It was not until I outright gave the “sandwich” clue that someone finally guessed the infamous BLT.  I personally was a little nonplussed with the lettuce flavor, but once it was revealed, everyone was shocked by how much they liked it given what it was.  I’m going to leave you with the recipe for the real standout of the evening, the bacon ice cream.  I mean, how wrong can it be to combine two of the greatest things on earth into one, right? Enjoy.

Bacon Maple Ice Cream a la Awesome

For the bacon

• 5 strips of thick cut maple (or sorghum in our case) bacon
• 2-3 tbsp maple sugar

For the ice cream custard:

• 3 tbsp butter
• 2/3 c maple sugar
• 1.5 c whole milk (preferably raw)
• 1.5 c heavy cream (add cream to milk and stir to combine)
• 5 duck egg yolks (or 6 if using chicken eggs)
• ½ tsp pure vanilla extract
• 1 tbsp bourbon such as Maker’s Mark

1. To candy the bacon, preheat the oven to 400F (200C).
2. Lay the strips of bacon on a baking sheet lined with a silicone mat or aluminum foil, shiny side down.
3. Sprinkle maple sugar evenly over each strip of bacon.
4. Bake for 12-16 minutes, turning once halfway through baking to encourage even sugar distribution.  Set on a wire rack to cool.
5. Once crisp and cool, chop into bacon bits.
6. To make the ice cream custard, melt the butter in a heavy, medium-size saucepan. Stir in the maple sugar and 2/3 of the milk/cream mixture. Pour the remaining milk/cream into a bowl set in an ice bath and set a mesh strainer over the top.
7. In a separate bowl, stir together the egg yolks, then gradually add some of the warm sugar mixture to them, whisking the yolks constantly as you pour. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan.
8. Cook over low to moderate heat, constantly stirring and scraping the bottom with a heatproof spatula, until the custard thickens enough to coat the spatula.
9. Strain the custard into the milk/cream, stirring over the ice bath, until cool. Add vanilla and bourbon.
10. Refrigerate the mixture. Once thoroughly chilled, freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions or hand churn using an immersion blender between three freezes over the course of 4 hours, then freeze completely.

Add the bacon bits during the last moment of churning, or stir them in when you remove the ice cream from the machine.