Roasted Tomatoes and the Pizza That Failed
Oh, I started off with the very best of two things yesterday: intentions and tomatoes.
These are from Matt’s grandpa’s garden, and they are as good as they look. (Sidenote: Growing up, I thought I didn’t like tomatoes. Turns out, I just don’t like sucky tomatoes. Surprise!) They are such incredible tomatoes, in fact, that they inspired me! “I’m a decent cook,” I thought, “I’ll make something delicious out of these! And then blog about it! I’ll be a FOOD BLOGGER!” I even got all of my ingredients together and made a little display like the Pioneer Woman does.
See my little prep bowl? Instead of unceremoniously dumping the single teaspoon of brown sugar into the mixer, I measured it out, rinsed out the bowl (it was dusty since I never ever use a bowl for a teaspoon of anything), and rearranged these items multiple times. I even opened the blinds in our little kitchen to let in some natural light, as legit food bloggers tell me that’s the best way to photograph food.
Pictures cannot do these tomatoes justice. They were not mushy or runny, they were naturally sweet, juicy without being goopy, and almost crisp. A. mazing.
I chopped them into large chunks and topped them with plenty of pre-minced garlic in olive oil. I don’t buy many convenience foods. I do own a garlic press. But being able to get a jar out of the fridge and cook with garlic without my hands smelling of it for days is one of the small joys of living in the 21st century. I roasted these in a 400 degree oven for about half an hour.
You wish your house smells like mine did. I might have eaten some straight out of the roasting dish. In fact, I might have been so preoccupied with eating and smelling the roasted tomatoes that I forgot to take a picture.
I also made a crust! This one. I took no pictures of the crust or the crust-making process. But I did make it from scratch! This becomes important later!
I shredded some bacon cheese, which contains no bacon but tastes so much like bacon that I have forever dubbed it “bacon cheese”. The rest of the world calls it “smoked cheddar”. I sometimes harass my husband into cutting me a slice by coming up close to his ear and whispering, “Only one thing smells like bacon and that’s BACON CHEESE!” a la this commercial. (The words in caps are no longer at a whisper.)
So, I topped the crust with olive oil, basil, oregano, garlic salt, and bacon cheese. I artfully arranged the roasted tomatoes around the outside. It was beautiful. I didn’t take a picture.
I then proceeded to bake the pizza at 325 degrees for 10 minutes. And then 5 more. And then another 5. Ad nauseam. I… well… I was waiting for the crust to brown, and it never did, because it was from scratch, and it was mostly just flour, water and yeast. So I didn’t take it out of the oven until the cheese in the middle formed a big crusty bubble.
Here is a picture of the least crusty slice, after I cut it, at about 8:45 pm when there was no natural light left anyway.
That crust is solid as a rock.
I ate it for dinner, because those tomatoes will make anything edible, but I advised Matt to go find dinner elsewhere.
I am not a food blogger.