The tomatoes started piling up on the kitchen windowsill around the middle of July, and by the first of August there was no stopping them. Our neighbor two doors down grows far more than his family can eat and leaves paper sacks of them on our porch steps without a word. Add the farmers market, where a basket of seconds costs three dollars on a Saturday, and we've reached that point in the summer where I start looking at every tomato as a responsibility.
That's when I make tomato pie.
If you didn't grow up in the South, tomato pie can sound strange. It isn't sweet, and it isn't pizza. It's a savory pie: a crust filled with layers of thick tomato slices, onion and herbs, topped with a rich mix of cheese and mayonnaise, and baked until bubbling and golden. It's best eaten slightly warm, on a hot evening, with nothing else on the plate except maybe a few slices of cucumber.
Yes, it uses the oven
I know. Early August in South Carolina, and I'm turning on the oven for 35 minutes. My compromise is to bake it in the morning, before nine, while the house is still cool and the heat pump isn't fighting the afternoon. Then I let it sit on the counter until supper. Tomato pie is better at room temperature anyway, after the filling has settled.
Ingredients
Total cost, using market seconds and a store-bought crust: about $11.
- 1 deep-dish pie crust, store-bought or homemade ($2.50)
- 3 to 4 large ripe tomatoes, about 2 pounds ($3 in seconds)
- 1 teaspoon salt, for drawing out water
- ½ sweet onion, thinly sliced ($0.50)
- A big handful of fresh basil, torn, plus a few chives if you have them (from the porch pots)
- 1 cup sharp cheddar, grated ($2)
- ½ cup mozzarella or Monterey Jack, grated ($1.25)
- ½ cup mayonnaise ($0.75)
- Black pepper, a pinch of garlic powder, and a dash of hot sauce
Steps
- Salt the tomatoes. This step matters more than anything else. Slice the tomatoes about ¼ inch thick and lay them on a rack or on a layer of paper towels. Sprinkle both sides with salt. Let them sit for 30 minutes, then press gently with more towels. Watery tomatoes make a soggy pie.
- Blind-bake the crust. Heat the oven to 375°F. Prick the bottom of the crust with a fork, line it with foil and dried beans or pie weights, and bake 12 minutes. Remove the foil and bake 5 minutes more, until it's dry and lightly golden.
- Layer. Scatter half the onion over the warm crust. Add a layer of tomatoes, slightly overlapping, then basil and pepper. Repeat with the rest of the onion, tomatoes and herbs.
- Make the topping. Mix both cheeses, the mayonnaise, garlic powder and hot sauce in a bowl. It'll be thick and sticky. That's right.
- Top and bake. Spread the cheese mixture over the tomatoes all the way to the crust edge, sealing them in. Bake 30 to 35 minutes, until golden and bubbling. If the crust edge browns too fast, shield it with foil.
- Wait. Let it cool at least an hour before slicing. Two is better.
Notes
- Which tomatoes: Any ripe, meaty slicing tomato. Cracked or misshapen seconds are perfect, because nobody sees them under the cheese. Avoid very juicy heirlooms unless you salt them longer.
- About the mayonnaise: I know some people flinch. It melts into the cheese and turns into a golden, tangy crust on top. You won't taste "mayonnaise." If you really can't, use a half-and-half mix with plain Greek yogurt, though the top won't brown as nicely.
- Crust: A homemade butter crust is wonderful. In August I almost never make one. A store-bought deep-dish crust works fine as long as you blind-bake it.
- Leftovers: Keep covered in the fridge up to three days. Eat cold for lunch, or warm a slice in a skillet on low to crisp the bottom.
- Variations: A layer of crumbled bacon, a handful of sweet corn cut off the cob, or a little sliced jalapeño all work.
My grandmother made tomato pie exactly three or four times a year, all of them between late July and Labor Day. When I asked her once why she didn't make it more, she said it wasn't worth making with a tomato that hadn't seen a real summer. I've never bought a tomato in January to try it, and I don't intend to.
Lila, at six, is still deciding about tomato pie. She eats the crust and the cheese and leaves a tidy red pile of tomato slices in the middle of her plate, which Ben then eats. Last night, though, she ate one whole slice of tomato before she noticed. I didn't say a word.
There are four more tomatoes on the windowsill this morning, and a fresh paper sack just appeared on the porch steps. I think there will be another pie next week.
