pomodori al riso

I just realized I’ve been a bit remiss on the tomato front this summer. Besides the posts on friselle and the tomato stand in Bari, I’ve not given a hint that what we’ve been doing out here in Todi is mostly living off of tomatoes.

If you follow me on Facebook, then you saw some of the gorgeous heirlooms I get from Salvatore Denaro’s garden. But we’ve got our own orto and this year the tomatoes are the best they’ve ever been. Our experience with tomatoes over the years is a bit hit or miss. Sometimes they thrive, other times they get blossom rot. I’ve learned that grafted cherry tomatoes are the most prolific, but I always end up planting whatever varieties I can get my hands on. I never give up on San Marzano, even thought they always let me down.

Even in the best of years, when our tomatoes do really well, they don’t always lend themselves to pretty pictures. Sure, I love them, since they are my babies. But worm holes, rust spots and bruises make them children only a mother could love.

But this year, for whatever reason, my tomatoes look like they came straight out of a box from Holland. Perfectly round, not a spot on ‘em. But the taste? Pure central Italian.

So, what have I been doing with these treasures? Mostly slicing them and eating them topped with some salt and olive oil. Fresh mozzarella from the caseificio turns it into a insalata caprese. My friend Jane purreed some one night and called it soup. There’s the friselle which I’ve already told you about.

But my favorite summer tomato recipe is one I often can’t make with my own misshapen tomatoes: pomodori al riso. These rice-stuffed tomatoes are best with garden fresh, ripe-as-can-be tomatoes. But since they are stuffed, the tomatoes should be big, round and more or less regular shaped.

This year I’m in luck. Almost every morning I’m able to harvest a dozen perfectly round, perfectly ripe orbs.

The recipe comes from my Barese mother in law Rosa, and couldn’t be simpler. My only change is that I add chunks of potatoes to the pan, which is a trick I picked up in Rome. Have you ever noticed that when you buy pomodori al riso at a rosticerria in Rome they always come with a few chunks of potatoes? These wedges not only taste good, but they also serve to keep the round bottomed tomatoes in their place. Clever.






Pomodori al Riso
Serves 6

12 round, firm medium sized tomatoes
12 small handfuls of long grained rice
1 small onion, grated
3 Tablespoons of olive oil, plus more for drizzling
3 large potatoes
salt
12 basil leaves

Cut the tops off of each tomato and set aside. Using a small melon scooper or spoon, carefully scoop the flesh out of each tomato, without breaking the outer skin. Collect the flesh and juice in a big bowl.

Set the tomatoes and lids aside, upside down, in a colander.

Add raw rice to the tomato flesh and juice. Add olive oil, salt and chopped onion. Stir to mix well and let sit for about an hour and a half. (make sure you add enough salt, taste to make sure)

Sprinkle a bit of salt into each tomato, and place one basil leaf at the bottom of each one. Spoon the rice mixture into each tomato and replace the tomato top on each one. Fill up to the very top. (somehow I always end up with a bit too much filling. Just empty out another tomato and fill her up)

Place carefully in an oiled oven dish, so that they fit snugly.

Peel and cut potatoes into wedges and slip in here and there amid the tomatoes to keep them up right.

Drizzle liberally with oil and sprinkle generously with salt.

Bake in a preheated 350F/180C oven for about 40 minutes. About half way through, check to see how they are doing. You don’t want the tomatoes to over cook and burst.

You’ll also see a lot of liquid at the bottom of the pan. I use a turkey baster to baste the tops of the tomatoes about every 10 minutes or so.

When done take out of oven and let sit at least a half hour. Pomodori al Riso are definitely a summer dish, and so best served room temperature.

*Later on, when you are washing up, you can drink all that oily, salty tomato broth at the bottom of the pan yourself. It’s heaven.