If I stumble upon one more recipe claiming to rescue me from an overload of summer tomatoes, I might just let out a frustrated sigh. But out of respect for my neighbors, I'll keep my cool. In my world, there's no such thing as too many tomatoes – that's just absurd.
Here in Paris, we don't quite enjoy the abundance of stellar tomatoes like in Agen, where markets overflow with them, or in vibrant cities like San Francisco or New York, where every corner brims with tomatoes of all hues and shapes. So, whenever I chance upon good tomatoes, it's like discovering treasure, and I handle them with utmost care, knowing just how precious they are.
Hot tomato soup never really appealed to me, until last year during my visit to New York City. There, a restaurant paired small servings of it with grilled cheese sandwiches, and I found myself completely won over. It made me wonder, what other culinary delights have I been overlooking for the past fifty-four years?
Even though I was tempted to serve the tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches, I refrained because I was dining with a friend's French mother, who adhered strictly to the traditional sequence of soup followed by a sandwich during meals. However, she was utterly taken aback when I dared to combine soup with bread and cheese simultaneously for lunch or dinner. It never occurred to me that my dining habits were so unconventional. Perhaps I've been a bit uncouth all these years without realizing it.
On a countryside excursion, I stumbled upon a lovely bunch of fresh savory, a lesser-known herb. Its aroma is reminiscent of thyme but with a gentler, more rounded flavor profile. Plus, there's something quite satisfying about saying its name aloud.
While I may not be accused of being "easy" (thus not a bon homme), I decided to infuse this dish with a distinctly non-French touch by adding a generous portion of corn salsa at its center. I envisioned a relish-like condiment, slightly pickled to preserve the flavor and texture of the fresh corn without overcooking it. My hope was for it to harmonize beautifully with the soup, although I wasn't entirely sure how well it would pair. Yet, in the end, it proved to be just the right addition.
Determining the precise amount of chopped chiles to add is always a bit of a challenge, as each pepper and variety varies in spiciness. In my case, I may have gone overboard with the Moroccan chiles I found here in Paris, which can range from mild to spicy, depending on the individual pepper. Luckily, I didn't get any complaints about turning up the heat in the kitchen. Still, I erred on the side of caution and refrained from serving the soup with any cheese.
However, if you're inclined to garnish it with some crumbled queso fresco or a dollop of crème fraîche, well, I won't tell.
LET'S HEVE SOME Roasted Tomato Soup :
- - 2 pounds of tomatoes, halved and deseeded
- - 6 cloves of garlic, peeled
- - 2 tablespoons of olive oil
- - Salt and pepper to taste
- - 2 cups of water or low-sodium chicken stock
- - 1 teaspoon of minced fresh thyme or savory
- - 1 tablespoon of sugar
- - 2 cups of fresh or frozen corn kernels
- - 1 tablespoon of olive oil
- - 1 small tomato, diced
- - 1 small red onion, diced
- - 1/2 bell pepper, diced
- - 1 small fresh chili, seeded and chopped
- - 1/2 cup of chopped flat-leaf parsley or cilantro
- - A generous pinch of ancho or chipotle chili powder
- - Juice of 1 to 2 limes
- - Salt to taste