Friday, September 6, 2013

Sometimes You Just Need a Little Tomato Pie

 
 On the day before I leave for Arkansas:
 before I strap myself into the car for a 14-hour drive,
 after I finish my work day where I am assembling 450 snack bags of Double Bubble and business cards advertising the university writing center,
after I stop on my way home at the Giant Eagle to stock the fridge for my son who'll be watching our dogs,
 after I drive the 50 minutes on 79 and open my front door at 6 p.m.,
but before I wash and iron and select a week's worth of clothes,
and before I write the checks that have to be mailed before we leave,
and before I run the sweeper, change the sheets, and spritz up the bathrooms
---on this day in particular,  I should not be making tomato pie. 
 
Tomato pie isn't difficult, mind you. Assembling it, however, does include slicing, salting, mixing, layering, topping, and baking. Then, that tomato pie will beg for an arugula side salad drizzled with my tart and sweet lemon dressing and an ear of sweet corn. You may not know this yet, but it's hard to say no to a tomato pie.

To make one, you'll need:
4-6 glamorous tomatoes, red and ripe to bursting
1 refrigerated pie crust (unless you aren't leaving for Arkansas the next day, and then you might want to make your own)
2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese
1 cup mayonnaise
1/3 red onion, thinly sliced
1 giant handful of garden basil, thinly snipped with kitchen shears
salt and pepper.

Slice those red beauties, salt, and drain in a colander for about 30 minutes. Layer the tomatoes and basil into the pie shell. Sprinkle with the onions.


 
Top with a mixture of the mayo and cheddar cheese.  
.


Bake at 375 for 40 to 45 minutes, and be prepared to bite into a hot and creamy slice of heaven. If you aren't going to eat directly from the pie pan (which some people may or may not have done), let the lovely pie set for about five minutes for easier cutting.

 
 I could have/should have called for a pizza.
 
But the tomatoes! There they sat on my kitchen counter, their brilliant red flesh calling out to me. "Don't leave us here when you go!"

 
  And, so, on the day before we rolled down through Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Mississippi into Helena, Arkansas, I made a tomato pie. The next day, all of the highways' white lines formed a giant string of em dashes taking me closer and closer to my girl who'd moved so far from home.