It’s peak tomato-time, and I’m soaking it up. Let me rephrase that: I’m soaking it up whilst pruning the life out of my tomato plants, trying to eke out every burst of blossoms they’ll allow in this unforgiving Texas heat. They say give your tomatoes one deep soak a week. Mine are drinking that up with a straw these days. They’re not alone- I’ve been enjoying any opportunity to slather on the sunscreen and slide into some water like an otter…for about 30 minutes, then my sunburn ensues and my dreams of being a beachy, sun-kissed girlie die…again. But alas, summer is absolutely in full swing, and ours has been very low-key and sweet.

When I say low-key, I mean every time I talk to friends or family, I feel like my only news is garden or cat-related, so I’ve become a very specific flavor of arguably-boring. I prefer to call it peaceful. 2022 was so very full, and frankly, flew by. This year has been much slower. I’m enjoying every “arguably-boring” second, knowing (God-willing), maybe, one day it won’t be just us and our two cats, leisurely gathering tomatoes, making pickles and fig jam, and cooking dinners with zero rush. However, this season, literally, with figs, and figuratively, happens to be full of all that good stuff, and it’s very peaceful indeed. Everything about this time screams “these are some of the good old days”, but I also feel the best is yet to come. Not a bad place to be, at all.

Speaking of a leisurely tomato-gather…this is something I’ve been incredibly grateful to do a lot of these days. Not every year has been a tomato bounty, and like every crop, tomatoes have come with a lot to learn, and a lot of mistakes to be made. They’re a finicky fruit. Over and over this past year, talk and tips about pruning rang in my ears. I resisted. The thought of hacking away all the gorgeous work my plants were doing made me wince. How could this be helpful? This thing is over here trying to sprint, and I’m supposed to lop off its legs? It’s counterintuitive to think about, until I frame it this way: When we as humans hack away what isn’t working for us, we get the room, strength and energy to grow. It’s painful, but it produces good fruit. Same goes for our plants. Now, I get out there with my shears and I joyfully hack away because I know I’m giving that plant the room to do its thang. And boy…have they ever done their “thang”.

This year, we got blessed big time. First, the sungolds began showing off, producing around 3+ racks of around 8-10 tomatoes each per day. I would place the green ones into a dish to ripen, and as they ripen, seemingly within hours, I’d transfer them into a separate dish for immediate usage. This tomato I was particularly excited about. On our honeymoon in Italy, we had a pizza with an ultra-concentrated Sungold tomato sauce. The flavor was the most pure, bold, sweet, and incredibly full of umami in any tomato I'd ever had. I knew I desperately wanted that straight out of the garden. Can you tell I don’t need a lot of time to pass before my nostalgia sets in?

See the aforementioned glorious pizza above from Hortus in Florence. On the left is a Stracciatella di bufala, mortadella, concentrated sungold tomato sauce, and micro greens, and on the right is pesto, fresh mozzarella, zucchini, and dots of that sungold tomato sauce perfection.

Back to tomato talk- Next, the beefsteaks and Costoluto Genovese came in hot. Seeing the larger tomatoes on the vine is always a sight to behold. Every time I harvest a really big one, I think in my head…”I’d be paying $3+ for this one tomato at a farmers market”, and it’s very satisfying. It never gets old.

Going on 6 years of this garden thing now, and this is the first year we feel we’ve finally really hit a groove where we know what works for our garden. We’ve come a long way in this scruffy little space.

So here we are, blissfully existing in our peak-tomato era. What are we doing with all these rapidly-ripening tomatoes?! I won’t lie to you: if you plant the seeds, you should prepare yourself for them to grow. Kind of an “if you build it they will come” situation. This, I never anticipate, because I’m a worrier, but let me tell ya…when they come in, they come in hot, and it’s so much more fun to have a plan. I’ve done this quite a few times- many more times without a plan than with, and to be fair, there really is only so much you can plan for before you learn some lessons. Knowing what I know now, I like to plan for (at least) a few jars of sauce, plenty of fresh eating, a couple jars of oil-packed, and this year, per a great idea my mom had, I’m going to try my hand at “sundried” tomatoes on the dehydrator setting in my air fryer. Refrigeration is the killer of delicious tomato flavor, so I really try and stay on top of this one. However, lest you think I’m super on-it, I just bummed myself out throwing out 6 cucumbers that I grew from the bottom of my produce drawer— sure, it happens, but it’s never a proud moment!

All of that is to say that I’m making pasta sauce out of these beauties left and right. Orzo is really having what I would say is about as much of a “hay day” as a rice-shaped pasta can possibly have. As a lifelong orzo lover, I’m happy for its moment in the sun. It’s a nostalgic pasta for me. We ate it a lot growing up in soups, in salads, or really casually in an almost “cacio e pepe” application (aka pasta with lots of pepper and parmigiano reggiano, emulsified with pasta water into silky cheesy goodness). We also had orzotto. Only, I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time. Often, my mom made it alongside osso bucco (veal shanks braised in a tomatoey, red wine situation until fall-off-the-bone-tender and amazing), which is one of my last meal-meals, or something else hearty like a grilled meat or fish.

Orzotto is orzo pasta prepared in the style of risotto. All this means is that you bring stock to a simmer, sauté up your aromatics in a pan- in this case, we’ve got our tomatoes, some garlic, herbs, crushed red pepper. Add in the orzo plus some wine, and then gradually add in the stock, a little at time, stirring regularly until absorbed. The natural starches in the orzo get coaxed out during the stock absorption process, and the result is creamy, but light and delicious. That was not me giving you the recipe, but in truth, it will be just as simple!

Tomato Orzotto

(Serves 4-6)

Ingredients

2 tbs butter

2 tbs extra-virgin olive oil

2 cups cherry tomatoes

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 tbs tomato paste

1/2 tsp fresh thyme, minced

1/2 tsp fresh oregano, minced

Pinch crushed red pepper, optional

1 1/2 cups orzo pasta

3/4 cup white wine

4 1/2 cups chicken stock

3 tbs butter

1 cup Parmigiano Reggiano, grated, to serve

Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste

Directions

Bring stock to a simmer. In a large Dutch oven, combine tomatoes with butter and olive oil, and season with salt and pepper.
Add in the garlic, tomato paste, oregano, thyme, and crushed red pepper. Sauté everything together for about 2 minutes.
Add in the orzo pasta. Sauté to give the orzo a nice toast.
Pour in the white wine, seasoning with salt and pepper, stirring everything to combine.
When the wine is almost completely absorbed, add the stock until just barely covering the orzo. Stir gently, regularly, until almost (but not all) stock is absorbed the pasta.
Repeat the process, covering the orzo with stock, until the pasta is perfectly al dente. The process should take around 15-20 minutes, total.
When the orzo is al dente, turn off the heat and stir in the remaining butter and Parmigiano Reggiano cheese.

This is such a comforting side. Classic tomato flavors, combined with the perfectly-cooked, creamy orzo and nutty parm is a combo I could eat forever. If you want to see this recipe process in-depth, head on over to my Instagram and check out my reel.

All this talk of pizza really made me in the mood for some. Happily, I just made some last night, so some delicious leftovers are in my future. It’s not pizza from Florence, but the tomatoes are garden-grown sungolds.